There, I said it.
It's out there.
For all to see.
Then dread sets in. Trepidation. Soul-searching. Famine. Uninvited shame currency builds in my purse.
Where does that darkness come from?
Who would have projected that it wasn't okay to take time off, to enjoy myself, to kick back and do whatever the hell I want?
My first real vacation, when I was 26, to Isla Mujeres, with my best friend, Paula. It was an incredible experience. I recall, drinking Pina Coladas on the beach, way early in the day, thinking "No one knows where I am or what I'm doing!!" The sensation of freedom, exhilaration, utter joy was unexpected and astounding. I'd never felt anything like it, up until then.
I find myself apologizing for taking time off, not working, traveling, visiting friends and family, attending my daughter's graduation ceremony. We're taking three nights and four days together to explore the Badlands!! I make the excuse that I'm going to be "working there," elude to the fact that it won't be fun, I couldn't be enjoying myself, that I don't deserve.
A hard lesson that I face time and time again. An insight that keeps me contemplating what this life could be about. Certainly not MORE WORK!!
Now, at least, I am seeing it, noticing when I shrink with guilt about time "wasted." I catch myself, laugh out loud, and correct the harsh words that scroll across my brain, like a ticker tape at the New York Stock Exchange.
There is truly no need to be bashful about a vacation.
So go out there and declare your time off, with full exclosure. You have my permission. And yours.