These past few months have been absolutely nerve-wracking and stressful, and with each passing week, things get worse and I wonder what I was thinking about when I thought the previous week was stressful.
I almost don’t feel like going on holiday, cos I wonder what I’ll come back to when I get back to work. But then I’d planned a trip so in advance that I hadn’t anticipated the amount of work or stress I’d be in at this point in my life. But when I think about it, I have done everything I can do at work, the rest of the decisions that are being made are not in my control… so why not just let it all go and take some time off to unwind, right?
So I’m going. I hope that it will be a good trip, this. I hope that I can forget my worries for a bit and just relax so that that my insides stop feeling like it’s been twisted into knots.
I have never felt more like the jaded adult cliche that so many seem to be so well acquainted with, and I hate it. I’m hoping that travel will cure me of this affliction. Traveling makes me feel young and curious and happy and carefree. Like I can believe in magic again. And I so very badly want to believe!
So I’m going on a break to Spain. To Barcelona and Seville and a bunch of places. By the time you read this, I will hopefully be drinking my weight in sangria and forgetting all about the drudgery of corporate life.