WHEN THINGS GO WRONG ON HOLIDAY

On a trip to Barcelona, I spent the night under eight layers of blankets, shivering with sunstroke.

Yes, apparently that is not the recommended treatment for it, I know that now.

I've been a bit quiet since this trip.

Not because of the trauma of losing Pete’s camera in a taxi. (No, we didn’t get it back.)

Or even because of the sun poisoning I gave myself on the same day.

But because the following day, I dropped my fecking phone down the toilet, and only just got a replacement.

A public toilet.

That my daughter had just used.

“I got it out straight away Pete, and it was standing on its end, so I think it might be ok!”

(I have never moved so fast. Like a child whose sibling just shat in the bath they’re sharing.)

He looked slightly dubious.

Actually his face said ‘it’s fecked’, but he just said ‘Anything’s possible babe, just switch it off’.

In the back of (another) taxi, he looked down ‘Why have you turned it back on?!’ 

‘I haven’t! It’s done that itself! It’s getting really hot, is that bad?’

The phone was indeed, fecked.

Luckily, it’s insured.

Doubly-luckily, for some reason, before we went away, I uploaded all 2857 photos on it to Dropbox.

However, I know, that when you’re having a great time, and suddenly you trash and misplace stuff that’s worth a decent amount of cash, and end up in bed thinking you might die of sun stroke in a hotel room, something’s not right.

Upper limits, much? Was my first thought.

We’d been sitting outside a lovely restaurant, in the afternoon sunshine, cheeky glass of wine in hand (and listen, I’m British, alcohol in the sun doesn’t usually take me down), eating amazing tapas, watching the kids watching the street dancers, and sharing a moment of ‘ahhhh, this is the life’.

A few hours later, I’m completely pale, shaking in bed like a right little idiot, and Pete asks ‘has anyone got my camera bag?’

We had not.

The following morning, feeling back to normal, I realized that I’d left my Energy Editing manual at home. 

This is my little magic book that I muscle test from, which basically allows me to find out exactly what my problem is, and immediately stop it being a problem. 

I did a bit of guessing, maybe something around things going wrong when everything is perfect? But I felt like I’d worked on that issue already, and whatever this was I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

We had a relaxing day by the pool, and then went to the Gaudi park. 

Ten minutes after leaving, I dropped the phone.

We had dinner by the beach, and then another 'disaster':

I missed the argument that broke out between two of the waiters, including one slapping the other around the face, before they were separated by the manager. Ellie saw it, and apparently it was hilarious, such a shame I missed it. 

We flew home early the next morning, and got home with no more ‘incidents’.

I got my book out, and started testing. One limiting belief had caused all my stress:

“When I fully relax, life beats me.”

Wow.

The thing is, life can only reflect back to us the stories that we carry around with us.

Somewhere along the line, I’d picked up this idea that ‘when I fully relax, life beats me’.

I can see this in the family work ethic; I can see it in my ‘Hustler’ tendencies; I can see it in how I can’t stop working until *everything* is done; and I can remember times when the consequences of this belief have shown up before:

Pregnant with Milla, and accidentally dozing off on the sofa whilst Ellie played on the floor, and waking up to find she’d smashed a bowl of rasperries into the carpet, the sofa, and the cushions: “Look Mummy, I’ve got pink feet!”

Or the time in Thailand as a youngster when I was having an amazing time, letting go of a heartbreak, and really relaxing, and the moped I was on the back of tipped off the side of the road, down a ravine. 

We didn’t fall far, but the exhaust landed on my leg, and the results were… well, there was a lot more of me attached to the burning hot pipe than was ideal, let’s just put it that way. 

Thinking about it, something has gone awry on so many of my holidays. I’ve just chalked it up to adventure, always found the positives, and things to laugh at, and it’s never stopped me wanting to travel. 

On our last two big holidays, California, and Thailand, and on all my solo adventures, there have been no hitches or disasters - everything went ‘perfectly’.

Then I realized that was partly because when you’ve got a tiny baby or a small toddler, you very rarely relax. Partly because we were packing in lots of activities. And also, on both of those trips, I’d been uncomfortably overweight, and I couldn’t relax in my own body. 

In Barcelona last week, I was relaxed in myself. I was comfortable. I was content. And in that little moment with my husband, I fully relaxed. 

So life threw a few punches to show me I’d got something I needed to sort out.

Cheers life!

I cleared the belief, and then it tested that I needed to program in the positive belief:

“When I fully relax, life gives me everything I desire.”

I’m thinking that might be a better story to lug about with me, and it’ll be interesting to see what happens when I fully relax.

Better book another holiday. 

You know, as ‘research’.

Love from,

Michelle xxx