Vacations are my favorite.
Cabo.
Key West.
Orlando.
Charleston.
Cape May.
I strive for the times when I can pack a bag or two and escape from my regular life for a few days or even weeks.
The moment we schedule a trip, that is all that is on my mind until the travel day arrives. It is the next event in my life that has an internal countdown running at all times. I plan the entire vacation in my mind, simply waiting for the day when it will become a reality.
For the previous two years, my family has had no scheduled trips for spring break. Those same two years, we made plans the week before to drive down to Orlando for a last-minute vacation. This just shows how much my family is focused on trips and vacations.
Last year, we didn’t decide to leave until the Tuesday before school got out, and we left on Friday.
That same year was not what I would ever consider a great winter. I constantly felt like I had a pit in my stomach; the pit could have been caused by my looks, actions, decisions, or anything else that may have happened in my life. It was as if I couldn’t be happy, even when I felt like I was. It made the fact that I’d be sitting home for spring break even more depressing since everyone would be on their tropical adventures. I hated the FOMO that came with the situation. When my mom announced that we would make the 20ish hour trek to Orlando to visit my cousin in Disney, the pit residing in my stomach fluttered with excitement.
My previous FOMO-riddled thoughts were overturned and I now began my rushed excitement of planning, shopping, and packing for our last-minute trip. The entire trip, the pit was almost non-existent. Things that had once been a constant loop in my mind were now minimal or expelled completely; they were replaced with thoughts of what the UV was for the next day.
I noticed this and thought it meant that my anxiety was magically cured. When I thought back to previous vacations, I realized that this theme was common for a large majority of my recreational vacations. My anxiety and worries which were heavy and detrimental, were transformed to a sort of wisp that flew in and out of my mind minimal times.
I think that the vacations prove such a relaxing escape from my reality, and give me a rejuvenating refreshment in my life that I don’t always get in my day-to-day schedule.
The only downfall is returning home. No matter how much I miss my dog or my bed, I will never truly be accepting of a departure from my vacations. It could be a hotel in Detroit, and I will have a slightly depressed feeling creeping up because I am returning to my normal life.
I will always be longing for a glimpse of escape from my normal life.
