See this, Shannon? See how relaxed you feel? How happy? How at ease? You can carry this on beyond your vacation. You don't have to be depressed about going home. Vacation is a state of mind!
Two days later I was on the plane ride home, with my head between my legs, assuming crash position, during a particularly turbulent patch of clouds. The xanax hadn't worked.
Who am I kidding? I don't want to go home! Get me off of this mother !*?ing plane, and take me back to the Caymans!
And it's been a bit downhill from there.
I love vacation. I mean, who doesn't? But I REALLY love vacation. You know how some people say that they love traveling, but they always are ready to come home by the end of it? I never feel like that. Ever.
If I could be on perpetual vacation, I would. Never mind living out of a suitcase. Never mind shoddy hotel rooms. Never mind a lack of a home cooked meal. Never mind crappy cell phone service and slow internet access and the lack of Bravo TV. For some reason, I just love being away.
I love forgetting about all the crap that normal life entails. The bills. The doctor's appointments. The vitamins and the parent teacher conferences and the guilt over lack of exercise and doughnuts and expensive boots. When I am on vacation, I say the hell with all of it. I spend what I want. I eat what I want. I drink what I want. I turn off my i-phone. I don't watch TV. My kids eat chicken nuggets and french fries every night. The four of us sleep in one room and I don't even care that Braden talks in his sleep and Casey wakes us all up at a ridiculous hour. I have fun - real fun. The kind of fun that can only come with a sincere throwing of caution to the wind and a disregard for the crap that accompanies the responsibility and accountability of everyday life for a control freak like myself.
As I attempted to reason myself out of my post-vacation depression this weekend, it dawned on me that I was right - vacation really is a state of mind for me. Sure, I love to be at a sunny beach. But at the end of the day, I could care less whether my days away involve clouds or sun. Or pool or beach. Or 5 star restaurant or dive bar. What I love is how I am, who I am, and the person that I allow myself to be. Relaxed, happy, laid back, and content.
And if that's true, then why can't I take vacation with me?
Obviously I can't sustain eating and spending and drinking whatever I want. And my kids need their vegetables.
But maybe I can say to hell with it a little more. Go outside a little more. Eat a doughnut every once in a while and stop counting calories. Stop sweating the messy living room and preschool pick ups and dental coverage disputes. Stop checking my email and twitter and blog statistics incessantly. Start trying to distance myself a bit more from that anal, stressed, always on time, always ahead of the game, always people pleasing, always responsive lawyer that I once was trying to be. Start trying to ease off on just going through the motions, and start enjoying myself more. Enjoying my kids more. Enjoying my everyday life more.
Because really, I am so, so, so lucky. And I have EVERYTHING to enjoy, no matter where I lay my head.
But when I am wavering, there's always this to inspire me: