No Pasa Nada

On January 14, 2025, my children and I landed in Málaga, Spain, after traveling for well over 20 hours.

San Diego airport, about to embark

Meanwhile, on January 14, 2026, I had another procedure, this being a uterine fibroid embolization after years of pain and irregularities, and having finally had a doctor listen to me about these realities.

A year apart and vastly different experiences.

My children loaded our luggage into the taxi, totaling three suitcases and three backpacks for our time in Spain. I remember driving in the van, staring outside at the buildings and freeway, thinking, What the hell did I do? This was supposed to be so much more magical. In hindsight, that was the fear, anxiety, and reality settling in that we had just packed up and moved to Spain, even if temporarily. When we had settled into our first temporary place, arranged for only 10 days, I nestled myself into the futon and comforter and fell asleep. I was overwhelmed by the traveling, realities, and, honestly, by the disillusionment of how small this flat was and how we had nowhere to truly live yet. A friend was there visiting in Spain just before we arrived and brought over frozen pizza and croquettes, not realizing there was no oven to cook the pizza and that I needed to fry the croquettes. I improvised and microwaved the pizza a bit, then pan-fried it with a lid. The croquettes, however, were a lost cause, a mix of mess and lumps.

I sat there, again, thinking, What did I do?

I had no idea that the five months we were there would turn into magic, but perhaps we just were too narrowly focused to witness it in that moment.

Drummers at Carnaval de Málaga

Now, a year later, as the memories on Facebook resurface, reminding me daily of that very magic I had to leave Málaga, that I couldn't just pack up neatly and put into my suitcase. I am curled up in my bed, crying periodically in pain. A year after we landed in Málaga, just four days ago, I had this uterine fibroid embolization. I have been talking to doctors for over a decade about irregularities in my reproductive cycles, only to be dismissed time and time again. It took an emergency room visit after arriving back in San Diego, approximately a month after I settled back in San Diego, for doctors to take me seriously, mind you, after prescribing medication that contradicted migraines, the dissection and stent I have, and the Moyamoya predisposition and gene. Alas, the medical dismissal is not the point of this essay.

No, it’s that while I am curled up in bed, the new semester looming and my syllabi incomplete, waiting, calling for me to reimagine what this new term may look like as I want to revamp the assignments. I have articles I want to write, and I planned on submitting to IRB, never mind the endless desire to focus on my fiction writing. I’ve felt a bit neglected by folks I love or who are in my community, with few having reached out, I’ve been avoidant of the few phone calls I receive, and job applications are mounting.

I should be resting, allowing myself to feel the feelings I have, between the physical pain, which is excruciating beyond belief and likened to child labor (and yes, they’re right), and the disconnection from community. Every time I see a new date or writing workshop, another job or call for conference proposals, I, with great effort, consider putting it into my calendar, and then think, Naw.

I have an incredibly high pain tolerance, so I anticipated this would be a breeze and that I would recover within several days, resume my plans, connect with people over the last weekend before the semester begins, and stay focused on all the juggling of projects and the semester. Instead, I have slept. And a lot. Which, if you know me, is a pretty big victory because sleep and I are not all that acquainted despite my best efforts.

One of my biggest fears when I left Spain was that I would fall back into old habits. The endless hustle and bustle, the need to juggle 8-9 classes to stay busy, the nonstop projects and mentorship, and taking on “service” opportunities at every turn. Life before Spain was hectic, chaotic, and I can honestly say I rarely felt my life, the moments of beauty and pain together, separately, sometimes in harmony, and others in discord. But in Spain, I just was. I knew how to let things go, stop stressing, and lean into rest, and, not coincidentally, I was the most productive I had ever been.

La Noche en Blanco Málaga, real time street art at Plaza de la Merced

We leaned into the beauty of carnivals and parades, processions and siestas in our neighborhood. We remembered to buy whatever groceries we needed on Saturdays, enjoying our slow Sundays. We enjoyed gelato at 22:00h and hopped on the bus whenever we wanted, stopping along the way just to explore new spots. We took buses, hours long, to nearby towns and spoke to the locals. We sat at restaurants, never worrying about when our server would give us la cuenta, ordering slowly, enjoying tapas one-by-one. We ate tejeringos in the morning with a cup of coffee, my son discovered a love of Oreo shakes and various coffees, and enjoyed them in the evening, too. We learned that buying in bulk wasn’t necessary, and fell in love with the beauty of smaller purchases, every few days, enjoying freshness and options. Life was slower, and that was where we experienced the magic. It was sitting on a loud bus, quietly in our go-to seats, sometimes knowing it was the same bus because of the Sharpie on the seat in front, staring out, never in a rush, and not always needing a destination.

Beautiful evening during La Noche en Blanco

This, of course, was never to be our permanent, always with the expectation of coming back to San Diego, but it was not uncommon across most of the folks we interacted with. Meetings were lower pressure, where I met with professors in Q Pro Quo, a beautiful coffee shop and bookstore combo (oh, my heart), or emails that were delayed, assuring me that there was no problem, no rush, and that we would handle business as we needed. It took some time, but “No pasa nada”, which is, when roughly translated, no worries, no problem, or no big deal, is truly a cultural practice, and an absolute way of life, a belief that things will work out.

It is the mindset that there is no need for urgency, and, in turn, the stress that tends to come with it. It was a beautiful, magical frame of mind that I have tried to maintain, and it is terribly hard in a culture that values productivity for the sake of exhaustion, business for the sake of performative productivity, and, quite frankly, the necessity of being busy and overworked just to get by and have our basic needs met. As I lay in bed, writing now at 3:30 am due to the mere fact that I have been allowing myself to sleep when I’m tired or in pain, I have tried to still adopt no pasa nada. Not because deadlines don’t matter, or because I am neglecting the semester, nor is it because I believe my students no longer need mentorship or that the articles I am writing are unimportant. But, it’ll get done. There is no point in stressing myself out when I am already in agonizing pain.

My children admiring the ocean view on one of our many boat trips out into the ocean.

I always figure it out, the semester will approach, my students will shuffle into class, eager to learn though perhaps a little, mmm, intimidated by statistics the first few weeks, confused by how to navigate Canvas or unsure of why I build community so heavily in a class that feels like dialogue has no place (oh, will they learn differently, though.) I cannot pretend that I have completely unlearned the chaos of constant go, go, go, but Spain taught me beautiful lessons through the magic that was unfolding in front of me. Learning to let go is so valuable, and something difficult to remember in academic settings, and really in the United States. Especially with the crushing social and political realities that we are facing, and the disconnection from community and each other. But we need to learn to let go of what we can, and for me, that’s the deadlines and stress for things that will get

done, but maybe, just not right now. Or in some cases, like maybe that article that sounded great two months ago, but maybe, eh, not so much now, not at all, and that will be okay, too.

We must savor the moments we can, whether it is laughing with our children or lying in bed through the moments of agony, reading a good book, snuggling with a warm blanket, or reminiscing on adventures or love stories we've lived. Through this, we slow down, breathe, let go, holding onto the energy we can to keep pushing forward however we need, for ourselves, for each other. So for this morning, today, tomorrow, and for as long as I can, I will utter, No pasa nada.

**All photographs were taken by me.

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