'You do it to yourself, and that's why it really hurts.' — Thom Yorke
We went to Nicaragua tired. Not vacation-tired… the deep kind. The kind you get after a year where the ground moves under you and you spend all your energy just putting the pieces back where they were.
Some of you may or may not know, but the rental of Del Lago Hotel fell through in July 2025, and it forced me and my family to come back to Lake Atitlan. It felt like someone put our business in a blender and now I had to go around finding the pieces to put back together. It's hard to describe those first months back… a mix of fear, resentment, frustration, depression and shell shock.
But after some time feeling sorry for myself, or pissed, or hopeless… a person needs to give up or get their head down. Giving up wasn't really an option, so we rebuilt through many months of blood, sweat and tears.
By the time high tourist season hit we were so exhausted that out of self-preservation we went into pure survival mode. Made it through. Barely noticed it happening. April hit and it was like… shit, how did we even get here?
That's when we took a much-needed break as a family. And somewhere on that Nicaraguan beach, somewhere deep in that hammock, a plan was hatched. Hammocks are dangerous like that.
The plan had always been October escape. Finish the apartments, finish the work on the hotel, wrap everything up properly, leave when it's done. That's how long it takes. That's how long I need. I'm a stubborn guy… and it just is what it is.
But I could see October was too long for Sarah, too long for the kids.
San Marcos was the perfect place to raise kids… until it wasn't. From 2 to 10, the lake is idyllic. Nature, culture, other kids… the learning was life. But creeping into the teen years, the lake = boredom for a teenager, and boredom is the worst enemy in those teen years. Not enough activities, not enough peers… it's why we rented the hotel in the first place, and now here we were, back again. Mom wasn't happy, and I knew what was needed to get the place back on track, and the six months to October were what was needed.
But here's the thing about a hammock and nothing to do. It gives you space to actually think, instead of just react. And when I finally had that space, I already knew the answer. The kids needed to go sooner. Sarah needed it… I needed it.
So in the last days of that trip I told Sarah: I think I can do it. It will be a fuck ton of work and I'll need help… but I see a path. We can do it… end of June.
I'm a crazy Butt. I'm certainly delusional. But mix stubbornness with crazy delusion and well… no turning back now.
So we landed back at Lake Atitlan and I did the math. Nine weeks. There is no fuck-around time.
If I was going to pull it off, I couldn't wing it. So I got a whiteboard and I wrote '9 Weeks to Ecuador.'
https://youtu.be/0is4swt-S5k?si=DkpOqGPFn8v6Q2lc (Here you can see a short video collage of the Whiteboards)
I took it one week at a time. I wrote the week's missions on that big whiteboard. Everything that had to get done. Crossing off what was done. I missed taking a photo of weeks 9 and 8. But at week 7 I thought, I should document this. I don't have time to make a post now, but when I'm free it will be cool to see the history. So from week 7 on, at the end of each week I took a photo, erased the board, and wrote the missions for the next one. Week by week, the hellish blur. A countdown, one board at a time. Every erased board was a week of our lives gone… and one week closer to getting our lives back.
What did it cost? Everything I had, basically. No days off. Even when I took the kids to the city to see the Ed Sheeran show… I worked, went to lawyers and shopped.
What's the phrase? 'There will be time to sleep when you're dead.'
My life was non-stop. Up early, working until eight or nine at night, every single day for nine weeks. By the last few weeks I was a drill sergeant with a countdown clock, and I could feel myself getting close to the edge more than once. A strange blur of excitement, hope and a potential nervous breakdown. My body started sending invoices: an abscess, a spider bite,
a tooth issue, aches everywhere, another spider bite… and on the very last morning before we left, I fell through the roof and broke my ribs. That happened at 9 am, and I still worked until 10 that night. You can't make this stuff up. It's too depressing.
It took a toll on more than my body. There was less of me for the kids. There were resentful moments. Sarah and I were both running on fumes. And every step of the way it felt like the universe was testing whether we actually meant it… problems appearing out of nowhere, right on schedule, like the whole thing was rigged to make us quit.
I didn't quit. Stubbornness is a hell of a fuel. It burns dirty, but it burns.
So when I look back at those nine weeks, I feel two things at the same time, and I don't think they cancel out. One: I'm genuinely impressed. Humans are capable of so much more than we believe. We tell ourselves we can't handle more, and then life proves we can. Two: what the fuck was I thinking?
Because we made it. We got everything done, we got out, and we're here in Ecuador… and as a family we are already finding thrive in this amazing city called Cuenca.
But I'm not sure I'd tell anyone to do what I did. There's something amazing about setting a goal and refusing to let anything stop you. There's also something a little broken about it.
We can. That was never the question.
Should we? Ask me again after I've spent a few months not filling every minute with a to-do list.
I think I have 'to-do list' PTSD. This last week my mind is still making lists. I created a renegade marketing plan for Hive, started plotting a Basecamp for new Hive users to land, created a hotel off-season business strategy, a legal framework for the hotel's taxes, and plotted my fitness routine… I had to slap myself today.
Go find a hammock, you idiot.
This post is rewarded by @commentrewarder … so let me know what you think.
P.S. a special thanks to @ninaeatshere She has been here for this entire last year of joy,trials and tribulation. And none of this story would be possible without her! Thank you Nina
