Vacation feels so good. You all know of my tendency to overbook myself until I’m stressed out and exhausted. New York only encourages this kind of lifestyle with its ever-convenient amenities.
Last time I went back to Seattle, I worked a few days – on East Coast hours – so I was waking up at 4 a.m., going to the office and putting in 8 hours. It was so stupid.
This time I didn’t work. Instead, I went paddleboarding, played with preschoolers, went for coffee and pastries at cafes, went to the lake, sat outside, took walks and slept in.
I feel so recharged. I have some clarity about my next moves. I have a better idea of where I want to go. It just took not using my brain constantly to sort some of those things out. And it helps that my week vacay was capped with coffee with my former therapist/sometime employer/friend/mentor who gave me some wonderful advice and a huge shot of encouragement.
This is actually happening. But first, I’ve got a soccer game, Spanish to review, a week’s worth of vacation eats to burn off and work to catch up on.
I’m a journalist, content strategist, doting auntie, amateur bobsledder, fitness enthusiast, and wannabe health nut (who loves chocolate and pizza too much to fully commit). I don't want you to think my life is perfect. It's not.