Losing My Routine In Argentina (And Why It’s Not The End Of The World - Even Though It Kind Of Is)

What happens when everything that keeps you on track disappears at once.

I am writing this from Ushuaia. It is the southernmost city in the world, and right now it feels like the end of the world in more ways than one.

This is our town. Silvina and I have history here. So arriving back is not like arriving somewhere foreign. It is like coming home to a home that has changed while you were away, and finding yourself a little out of place in it.

We stopped in Buenos Aires for a couple of days on our way here. That part was fine. Hotel, restaurants, our own choices. I felt in control. We were eating well. Then we arrived here, moved in with family, and things shifted fast.

First I got sick. Nothing too bad, just the kind of thing that drains you and leaves you off balance, struggling to breathe. Then our food changed. Breakfast is toast, usually plain or with a little cheese. Lunch is pizza. Dinner is pasta or empanadas. Everything is flour. Or sugar. Or refined carbohydrates. And travel already does a number on your digestion without adding a near-zero-fibre diet on top of it. Let's just say the cork metaphor comes to mind.

Then the wine appeared. We visit family, and there is wine. Three glasses some evenings, which felt obliged rather than optional. Silvina and I had both stopped drinking for a long time. That boundary quietly dissolved over a few family dinners. That really wipes out your sleep.

And the stillness is doing something to my head. I can feel it. There is a weightiness that creeps in when I stop moving. Not full depression, but a dull weight. Boredom mixed with frustration mixed with tiredness.

· · ·

So today I just stopped. Dropped everything and everyone. Called the kids, put on my coat and just went. My wife needed to rest, so I took the kids and we went for a hike. It was exactly what I needed. What a breath of fresh air, change of perspective, refreshing stretch. It didn’t fix anything. It wasn’t even a workout. But we moved, and we were outside, and it was a lot of fun. Plus I got some great photos along the way too.

That one decision changed the day. It’s not going to change the week, nor my health trajectory. But it did change the day. This day. Today. And sometimes that is enough.

· · ·

Here is the other thing keeping me anchored. I am still taking my supplements every single day. There is a reminder on my phone and watch that fires without fail. I cannot dismiss it unless I have actually taken them, because marking it done without doing it would be dishonest with myself. That one habit has not broken. Everything else has bent or snapped, but that one stands.

And I have been fixing things around the house. The gate outside. The front door that would not close properly. A leaking toilet. Blocked drains. Damaged lights. My mother in law is getting older and the house has collected a long list of broken things that nobody has gotten around to fixing. So I am getting around to them. It gives me something real to do. Something that matters. It grounds me here and reminds me why we came.

All of this is the bit that does not make it into the health posts. The messy stuff. The season where your routine collapses not because you failed, but because life is bigger than your routine. Family is bigger. Presence is bigger. And sometimes the most important thing you can do for your health is not optimise your morning. It is fix your mother in law's toilet and sit at the kitchen table with people you love, even if the food is not perfect.

I am not perfect. I fail, often daily. But I get back up. I refuse to stay down. Life is not what you get perfect, but what you keep doing, over and over again, until you do get it right. This is my life and I am writing this to say it is fine if things go haywire. But it is not fine to just let everything slide. It is not. For me, I can feel what the flour is doing, what the stillness is doing, what the late nights are doing. But I am not giving up. I will course correct. I will get back to what I know is better food, better actions. When? When I can.

This season is not a failure. Just because it does not look like my best days, it means I am human. But there are good things in this time too. Family. Life. These things matter too. Sometimes you need to take the good with the bad and keep moving forward.

If you are in a hard stretch, travelling, staying with family, navigating someone else's rhythms, maybe this helps. You do not have to have it all together. You just have to hold on to one or two things that remind you who you are.

For me right now, it is the supplements, the toolbox, and a hike with my kids on a good afternoon in Ushuaia.

That is enough.

Rob Thiesfield,
Writing from the end of the world