Why Bother Taking a Vacation from Worry?

Why Bother Taking a Vacation From Worry?

Some of my friends are actually on vacation. They’ve left the cold, cloudy weather of the Northwest and traveled to warmer temperatures in the desert. While there, they carry on as though January was just another name for July. Their long days are full of sunlight and filled with activities such as  bike riding, golfing and sitting outside to watch the sun set.  

But it occurred to me that although I cannot travel to a warmer climate and relax under sunny skies, I could give myself a little vacation in another way. And so, I chose to take a holiday from worrying. 

Taking a Little Holiday

Worry is one of my constant and familiar companions. I don’t remember when I first began to worry about things. Anxiety showed up one day, and without question, I accepted it as something everyone did. Though it started out tiny and insignificant, the more attention I gave it, the bigger it became. 

Somehow, Worry convinced me that without it, I’d never make it in life. “I’m essential,” it told me. “You can’t do life without me.”  “I keep you on your toes.” 

Worry, I discovered, is not a kind taskmaster. Even my best efforts will never please it because there is always something more that needs to be done. Additionally, Worry demands the impossible from me, “Always keep your ducks in a row,” it shouts out. Consequently, Worry always wants me to think ahead, never allowing me to enjoy the moment. “You have to prepare for all the what “ifs”. You don’t want to be blind sided,” It says. But worrying is exhausting work, and I told myself, for one day, I would refuse to answer any requests from Worry. I smiled at the thought.

I chose a Saturday as my holiday from Worry. Waking up, I reviewed the list of chores I’d planned for the day along with some recreation in the afternoon. Worry followed close on my heels as I started the laundry. It nagged at me about whether or not I’d have enough time to do everything and recreate in the afternoon too. I assured it that I’d have plenty of time and continued to whittle away at my list with a casual and calm demeanor. 

When I took a break from household cleaning and lay down on my bed with a book, Worry panted impatiently beside me, “Are you sure you have time for this?” I told it to go away and leave me alone. 

Driving with my husband to go to a show, Worry sat in the back seat and wondered if we’d left on time. Would we get a parking spot and a good seat? I assured it that all would be fine and that they’d not been invited to come along. Worry disappeared for the rest of the evening and I didn’t hear from it until the next morning. And by then, its voice was too dim for me to notice. 

Why bother to take a vacation from worry? When we choose to take a respite from worry, it can be almost as relaxing as traveling to the desert and pretending that January is just another name for July. 

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