LAST night, I bump into my sister in the dining room. I’m refilling my water bottle. She’s midnight snacking. She comes home at dawn every day from work. I have taken great strides to get inside my bedroom before one in the morning.
It’s a blue moon. Did the stars align? No. My sister just took a day off from work.
“I have not succeeded in creating the life I want,” I sigh. My sister looks bemused. “You know,” I continue, “the life where I don’t need to take a vacation from.”
“I wonder what it’s like to go to bed every night, NOT tired,” I tell her. “Even on vacation, I still go to bed, tired.”
“Everyone is tired at the end of the day,” she tells me. “Really? Including those who do nothing?” I am unconvinced.
The day before, I exclaim at the dining table, “I’m so hungry!” My father calmly says, “I never feel hungry. Maybe, I really eat too much.” My father’s appetite is legendary, but it takes a while for things to sink in with him. I am not so different.
“I don’t know why I’m so hungry all the time. Maybe, I don’t eat enough,” I tell my sisters. Actually, I love to eat. But sometimes, I don’t have time to eat. And sometimes, there’s nothing healthy to eat.
I work out on a regular basis with a great trainer who not-so-secretly loves to put me on brutally punishing workouts. But I love it—not when I’m huffing and puffing but after pushing my body to its limits and accomplishing something I thought was beyond me.
A few days ago, I feel lightheaded and nauseous. I tell my father I’m worried because I still have tons of work to do. He agrees I should get well so I can work. I smile. My mother would have said, “Stop working.”
I send panicky messages to my doctor. I had self-medicated, of course. But I wasn’t feeling better. The real M.D. takes over. By the afternoon, I was sending my doctor a grateful message. I tell her gleefully, all the meds have kicked in. Finally.
A conspiracy of not enough food, too much cardio, too little sleep, tons of work and increased stress levels due to the looming cut-off date from the umbilical work cord—did me in.
As of this writing, I am ready for a wedding and ready to fly off afterwards to a gorgeous destination. No. I am not the bride and I am not going off on my honeymoon. You don’t have to get married, you know, to fly off to some amazing destination.
But should you find someone whom you want to go home to and at the same time, go on great adventures with—someone who somehow makes you want to live forever—don’t let me stop you—from saying yes.
I have not succeeded in creating the life I want—the one where I don’t need to take a vacation from. But I’m not giving up. I know that day will come. This life I have is not perfect. But hey, it’s pretty phenomenal in ways I cannot count.