I moved to Puerto Vallarta forever - but I came back in less than 3 months...

For many reasons that I'll explore through various postings, I moved my son (23, has Autism, fully dependent) and I down to Puerto Vallarta in October 2017. I thought I was doing a good thing but I wasn't "all there in the head/brain".

My daughter stayed in Tacoma and I had grand plans that we would see each other every 3 to 4 months. I thought we'd actually see each other more often than we were when we were living many hours away, simply because the cost of living was supposed to be so much better that I'd be able to afford to fly her down, and I'd be able to afford to fly up.

My heart still breaks every single day because I left her. 

Even though we're within 2 hours of each other now my heart is still so full of grief for having left her - it's one of those decisions that will haunt me for life.

Living in Puerto Vallarta was supposed to be so affordable, I had myself so convinced that things would be so much better there for all of our needs.

I got rid of e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. - consolidated our lives down to 5 suitcases, two backpacks, a carry-on, and our BabyK and her kitty carrier.

I sold my car, in hindsight at such a ridiculously low price I am still kicking myself today (but for so many things, not just that), I digitized photos and took pictures of gifts my kids had made for me over the years, scanned their baby books, just literally got rid of everything in one way or another.

Even my son got rid of his stuff, so so much of his stuff including his computer, many of his magic cards, clothing, everything.

I was just finishing out a 7-year long, brutal divorce and I know now that I was running (one of those "in hindsight bad reasons" mentioned above).

When I say brutal I can't describe/define/detail/call it what it you but I cannot impart the brutality of those years on my brain and body. I'm still suffering today, still on a downward spiral that I didn't know I was on at the time.

There's this saying, I don't know exactly what it is, about not making major life decisions for a certain amount of time.

Well, that's one of the stupidest things through all of this that I did. But I didn't realize it. And how we're paying for it.

I moved us - not just moved us but moved us to another country after getting rid of everything we owned - and the court case wasn't even yet finalized.

I sat in a bedroom closet of a small room on the side of an extremely busy roadway in Puerto Vallarta, on my cell phone, speaking with the judge in the courthouse in Coupeville WA for our final hearing.

Within 20 days of that phone call we were back in the states. 

We'd been ripped by a Canadian realtor in Mexico, with no idea of what to do, and there was just barely enough money to get our plane tickets changed and get back to the states.

We are now paying for that horrible decision of mine. We're paying with the constant looming fear of homelessness and my emotional health is horrendous right now, shredded. 

I had grand plans; I was going to make both of our lives better.
I was going to continue to run my business from down there and he was going to do his own business of "serving" expats - grocery shopping and whatnot. 

Since he can't drive it was perfect because he could Uber. The Uber rides down there are approximately $2 to $3 so it was an affordable venture.

But it was more involved than I realized it would be. 

I was struggling to keep my own business going, the internet is horrendous, and there wasn't any way for us to figure out how to get him set up. 

Neither of us speaks Spanish, which I stupidly thought wouldn't be a problem, and it was all just so completely unfair to him.

One reason I was running in fear was because I thought that his social security was going to be "chopped" due to what was being said by the various administrations. We all have mid-to-high functioning Autism, and his had qualified him for SSI and Medicaid - but I feared it being taken away.

I thought we could afford both of our medical down there, which who knows maybe we probably could have if we'd been able to pull off living down there.

One problem was that if you're not a legal Mexican, you can't work, you can't get a job. Since my son couldn't do his own business he wasn't able to earn an income of any sort.

The hoops that the companies are made to jump through to prove why they can't hire a Mexican national to do a job rather than an American (or other nationality), and then the hoops that the individual has to jump through (such as traveling back and forth to their "homeland") if they're lucky enough to find a company willing to go through the hoops was just too much. 

With my own emotional and brain issues now clear, it was totally too difficult for me to do, let alone my son. 

We ended up in California and for both of us, our mental health continued to decline. Our situation was nothing more than a temporary landing spot, which unfortunately became more temporary than what was originally arranged, and we're now in Washington.

Life is beyond tough right now. We are struggling to make it both emotionally and financially and I'm not yet convinced that we will make it.

I've been so messed up emotionally that I've hurt my business - lost/chased away my main partners - and that lost income is also contributing to my fear of homelessness.

I have to figure out how to get better emotionally and make this work out.

I have to figure out how to focus on what to do to make it better, and try to quit focusing on how badly I screwed up, but I'm so full of doubt it's like there's no room for hope.