Last week, I got to go on a three-day vacation. VACATION! It was so delightful. It was, in fact, so delightful that I couldn’t stop exclaiming how delightful everything was. For three days, delightful was my very favorite word.
From the moment work ended the day before our departure, I was my Vacation Self. Which is to say, the most delightful version of myself I’ve ever met. The self who wakes up at 3:30 am without complaint because, you know, vacation is worth it. The self who stays peppy even after stripping down to bare feet and underthings at airport security. The self who nimbly remembers to leap up to fetch her partner tropical beverages, simply for the joy of being kind. The self who doesn’t give a hoot that the other people at the pool are kinda loud, and a wee bit annoying.
My Vacation Self seems to stick around a bit after the vacation concludes, luckily. She’s awesome and kind and, actually, pretty outgoing. She has the energy to go out more than once in a weekend. She feels excited to get out and exercise, and not just because she knows it will make her feel good afterward. She’s able to handle more stimulus than usual, quickly forgetting loud subway noises and cranky shopkeepers.
I’m so glad I got to go on vacation, and even more glad that I got to spend some time with Vacation Me.
But I almost missed out on this vacation entirely. I’m great at forgetting that rest and vacation are necessary parts of self-care. I’m great at delaying gratification and pushing through, to my own detriment. I’m hugely talented at convincing myself that fun in the sun is less important than saving my pennies.
Luckily, I have a partner who’s better at remembering Vacation Me, and insisting that we see her more often. So I went on vacation. I remembered that Vacation Me exists, and that she’s such a total doll.
Now, in vacation’s fuzzy afterglow, I’m wondering how I can spend more time with Vacation Me on a regular basis. I don’t want her to be somebody I only see once a year. I want her to be somebody I see regularly, so much so that, over time, her presence blends into my everyday reality. I want to prioritize her, so that maybe, someday, I can become her.
. . .
How and when do you meet up with the most delightful version of yourself? And how could you make contact with that self even more often?