I struggled to rest.
Not because I didn’t have time but because I don’t know how to be still without feeling like something is falling behind somewhere.
Even being here, in a completely different environment, my default setting hasn’t changed. Most days I’m either working… or thinking about work. And if I’m honest, those two feel exactly the same.
Then my cycle hit.
And apparently, that was enough to force a system shutdown.
I became a cat.
There’s no better way to explain it.
I spent two entire days rotating between spots like I was testing lighting in a house I didn’t own:
bed, couch, balcony, pool chair.
I’d lie down, get up, walk around a bit, find a new place to lie down again. Occasionally I’d get a random burst of energy, swim a few laps, and then immediately return to doing absolutely nothing.
No productivity. No guilt. Just… existing.
And I wish I could say I hated it but I didn’t.
The part I did hate?
The following days I was more productive than I’ve been in weeks.
Clear mind. Faster decisions. More output in less time.
So now I have to accept something I’ve been avoiding:
rest isn’t a reward, it’s a requirement.
People, Patterns, and Unexpected Community
Somewhere in between doing nothing, my life started filling up.
Not in a loud way. Not in a forced networking way. Just… gradually.
Breakfast turned into lunch plans. Lunch turned into dinners.
Then events. Then familiar faces.
Women’s networking spaces. Sustainability conversations. Rooms filled with people actually trying to build things, not just talk about them.
There’s something different about connecting outside of your usual environment. You show up slightly less defined. Slightly more open.
I even went to an all-women comedy show and laughed harder than I expected to. Not polite laughs. Real ones. The kind that catch you off guard.
And then there’s Muay Thai.
I did not expect this to be the thing I’d love the most.
But there’s something about it boy, the discipline, the repetition, the physical interaction that clears your mind in a way nothing else does.
That… and the food.
Let’s not lie.
The Realization I Didn’t Plan For
At some point, sitting quietly, I had a realization that hit deeper than I expected:
My mother is now a barrel baby.
And if you’re from the Caribbean, you understand exactly what that means without explanation.
It’s a full-circle moment. A shift in roles. A quiet reversal that doesn’t announce itself, it just is.
That realization stayed with me long enough that I decided to start writing a book.
Not just about her.
About us.
About this strange, uncomfortable, necessary process of unparenting.
There’s no clean way to do it. No guide. No “right” version.
Just layers of responsibility, identity, resentment, love… all existing at the same time.
So I’m writing it.
Because if I don’t, I’ll pretend I understand it when I don’t.
Living Here (and Learning the Small Things)
I’ve been going to more events. Meeting more people. Saying yes more than I normally would.
And I’m enjoying it.
Not in a “this is amazing every day” way but in a steady, grounded way.
Also learned something very practical:
Tax refunds are a thing here.
Which means I have now become someone who keeps receipts like they are part of my personality.
Every purchase suddenly feels like it has a future purpose.
The Decision to Take This Seriously
I finally bought a DJI Osmo Pocket.
And this wasn’t random.
This was me deciding:
If you’re here, then use it properly.
Stop observing. Start documenting.
Filming began almost immediately.
And what’s funny is, even that moment felt very Bangkok.
While I was in the mall buying the camera, there was a Spartan Thailand event happening. Think obstacle course, competition energy, mini crowd, music. All happening in the middle of a regular day.
This city doesn’t ease you into things. It just layers experiences on top of each other and expects you to keep up.
The Awkward Night
I met a guy while buying the camera.
We exchanged numbers. Later that day, he wanted to hang out.
Now….. if you know me.. once I’m inside, I’m not coming back out unless it’s absolutely necessary.
So I suggested we just hang out in my building. Pool area. Easy.
That plan lasted exactly until we got into the elevator.
Without warning, this man went straight into:
hugs, shoulder kisses, full affectionate energy.
No build-up. No conversation. Just… action.
I was so caught off guard I didn’t even react immediately.
Then I shoved him off and said:
“This is not that kind of party.”
My brain, clearly under pressure, produced the only solution it could find:
“I’m gay.”
Which… worked. Kind of.
The whole situation was awkward. Start to finish.
But it’s over. Filed away under “stories I didn’t ask for but now have.”
The First Moment That Felt Aligned
I finally used the camera properly.
Visited Canabangka. Filmed a full tour and interview.
And for the first time since being here, things clicked.
It stopped feeling like I was just existing in a new place
and started feeling like I was doing something with it.
That shift matters more than it sounds.
Songkran: Water, Chaos, and Letting Go
Towards the end of the month, the energy of the city started shifting.
Songkran was approaching.
Songkran is Thai New Year but calling it that doesn’t really explain it.
It’s a full reset.
Traditionally, it’s about cleansing, renewal, washing away the past year to step into the new one fresh. Water is used as a symbol of that.
But in practice?
It turns into a nationwide water fight.
And not a small one.
Entire streets shut down. People line the roads with buckets, hoses, water guns. You cannot walk outside without getting soaked. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you’re going, or how serious your day is supposed to be.
You will get wet.
Strangers throw water on you. You throw water back. Music plays. People laugh. No one is pretending to be composed.
It’s chaos but it’s intentional chaos.
And what stood out to me wasn’t just the fun of it.
It was the permission.
Permission to stop being controlled.
Permission to not be “on.”
Permission to participate in something messy, communal, and temporary.
For someone like me, who is always structured, always thinking, always calculating, that kind of environment forces a different version of you to exist.
Even if only for a few days.
The Earthquake
And then just when I thought the month had settled, it didn’t.
There was a massive earthquake.
And of course, I was at immigration doing my 90-day check-in when it happened.
Inside a crowded office. Inside a larger building. Everyone suddenly trying to leave at the same time.
That moment where you realize:
if this goes wrong, it goes wrong fast.
For a second, I genuinely thought I might get trampled.
It was chaotic. Loud. Urgent.
But what stood out was how quickly things moved.
Staff directed people out. Systems kicked in. There was a level of order inside the panic.
I was relocated to a hotel for a few days while they assessed building safety.
And honestly this part matters:
My agent handled things well.
My landlord was responsive.
Maintenance staff helped with luggage, groceries…. everything.
Support like that doesn’t always show up when things go wrong.
This time, it did.
Where I Landed
March wasn’t clean.
It wasn’t one clear theme or one clear direction.
It was:
rest I didn’t plan for,
people I didn’t expect,
moments that were funny, uncomfortable, productive, and slightly chaotic.
But underneath all of that…
something started forming.
Not a final version. Not clarity.
But structure.
And maybe that’s what this month really was:
Not about doing more.
But about creating space for what’s next to actually fit.
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