I’m taking my first vacation in over a year, and my first entire week off in two. I think it’s weird how I spent so much time doing nothing through high school and college, and all of a sudden, I looked up from my job and said, “Huh, might as well take a week off.” And so I am, during my favorite month of the year, in my favorite place in the world…sort of.
Right now, I’m having a little guilt over taking the time off. Since starting working outside of college, I’ve only taken one or two days off, never a week in a row. But at the same time, it’s not as though I am gunning super hard towards my life passion and career and I simply haven’t had the time to take off. I’m just using this time off as an excuse to get away from the grind, from my parents, and get “centered”, get some studying done for my Life and Health License, work on my resume for grad school, study for the GMAT, schedule my tests…
It does seem like I’m not taking much of a vacation, am I?
But really, I’m going to have nine days where I get to pick what I want to do. I don’t have to wake up at a certain time to be somewhere at a certain time. I can curse, and smoke, and laugh, and tell my jokes, and spend time with people who don’t always make me feel like I’m doing everything wrong.
So, I guess that’s why my vacation back to Ashland why I’m so looking forward to going. I swore many times that I would never move there permanently, and that still stands. But I think that I need the time in a place where I felt the most free to spend this precious (and what feels like stolen) time. And I need it, because The Boy and I have had a series of rows based on this “quasi-togetherness” which I think is exacerbated by my frustration with my position in time and space. I need to get back to where it was, when he and I were making day-to-day decisions about what we were going to do with ourselves.
But at the same time, I’m worried that I will be bitter and disillusioned when I have to come back: because I’m 24; been engaged for two years, no wedding in sight; bought a fucking couch with my fiancé who lives 70 miles away; have no idea what I want to be when I grow up; not sure how I’m going to pay my medical bills, move out, still eat; and I’m living with my parents.
Wait, why didn’t I want to go on this vacation?