I Took a Vacation So I Could Work

Yes, I recognize the irony of posting a blog about not hiding and then essentially going into hiding.  For two weeks.

I'll be honest--I wasn't well.  I was overwhelmed, depressed and physically and emotionally exhausted.  I had given others so much from my own well that mine was completely dry.  

When you're a solopreneur, taking time off seems impossible.  Indulgent.  Incomprehensible.

Until you find yourself like I did last month--completely worn-out, anxious, bone-tired and completely useless to myself, my clients, my friends and my family.

So, I took a break.  A REAL break.  Four days of nothing but amazing food, people and experiences.  I stopped trying to control and plan and manipulate every single second, step, decision, workout.  I stopped trying to "power through" and let my mind and my body rest.  Of course, my definition of "rest" included a 10K race!  But my approach was different.  It was quiet, meditative, open--more about the experience and my energy and effort rather than some must hit or I'll-wallow-in-self-pity-for-two-weeks-because-I-clearly-suck time goal.

So, here I am, rested, peaceful and determined, diving into the second half of my year determined to figure out the meaning of this unfamiliar concept called "balance."

Mental Health Day

From a few weeks ago...

I'm not an extrovert, but I play one in my life.  This week, I had no fewer than twenty meetings and six evening commmitments--including a networking event I hosted for nearly 100 people--in the span of four days.

Needless to say, I woke up exhausted this morning.  And then when I rececived an email with some not-so-good news, I did what any overworked, exhausted and completely depleted person would--I crawled back into bed, swaddled myself with sheets and bawled. 

This latest round of self-pity lasted for over an hour, at which time I could no longer ignore the beckoning sunshine and the crisp spring air blowing through my matted morning hair.  It was simply too beautiful of a day to stay indoors.  To mourn that which cannot be changed.  And then I had a realization--I should take a day for myself.  To do whatever I wanted.  No work, no rules, no obligations.

And then I sat there.  Nothing.

A run?  Well, that's kind of like work.  Write?  That would involve the laptop.  (hence why I originally wrote this with old-fashioned pen and paper), which I had zero interest in opening.  TV?  Too much stimulation.  Pilates class?  Another obligation.  Shopping?  No money.  Massage?  See the previous statement.  Walk?  I didn't feel strong enough to get out of bed.  Read?  Too much thinking.  Piano?  Too fragile to hear what I sound like after years of neglect.

It's scary to realize that you've been going, moving and doing for so long that you can't even remember what it is you'd LIKE to do, given complete and utter freedom.  I had absolutely no idea.

Last night, I read a great article on running and meditation, so I decided to give that a try.  Much to my cat's consternation (she's a big fan of the wallow), I reluctantly unwrapped myself from the twisted sheets and sat down on the floor.  I tried to breathe, to stay present, to relax and let go, to listen.

And then I decided that I wanted to go to the park.  Not to run, not to walk, just to be.    

I grabbed a blanket and some of my dog's toys, packed her into the car and took off--no agenda.  We played with balls and sticks and dirt, basked in the sun, and then took a short jog.  No watch, no goal, no plan.  I didn't get annoyed when she stopped to sniff or mark her territory.  I tried to soak in the colors, the air, the breath, the joy.

Then I was hungry.  And I'd been craving Chick-fil-A.  So, I got the usual--eight piece chicken nugget meal with lemonade.  I got home and the food made me think of more food, so I decided to watch Top Chef Masters on the DVR.  While eating fried, processed food.  I giggled a little, then cheered on a friend of a friend, grateful for the opportunity I had to eat at his restaurant back in January.  Grateful for food and for friendship.  The darkness lifted a little.

I decided to watch some 24.  To turn off the Blackberry.  To scream a little at the scary parts.  To just escape a little.

And then I put some clothes away and vacuumed the bedroom.  Not because I had to, but because I wanted to.  I put on loud music and danced.  Naked. And I'm currently sipping on some wine and enjoying the view from our rooftop deck.  I'm more relaxed.  I'm centered.  And I haven't touched work all day.

It's so easy to get stuck in the hamster wheel, to keep running and running until even the things you used to enjoy aren't fun any more.  Until you don't even know who you are or what you like.

Sometimes, you just need a day off to discover yourself again.

You Can Take the Publicist on Vacation, But You Can't Take the Publicist Out of the Girl

So, I've been attempting to take a bit of a vacation this week. So far, it's not going well. And hey, as long as people are willing to pay me, I'll happily keep on working--just don't be surprised if you catch me by the pool with a fruity drink in hand! ;)

One thing I have been able to do this week is watch some of my favorite sporting events. I'm a huge track geek (seriously--I haven't been star struck by the likes of B.B. King and Norah Jones, but I don't know if I could string together a coherent sentence if I met Kara Goucher!), so I was thrilled that the 2009 U.S. Track & Field Championships were on television yesterday. The running was super impressive (how is it humanly possible to run 100 meters in less than ten seconds?), but the interviews were even more so. I don't know if the USATF has hired an image consultant or media coach or what, but every interview I saw was superb. The athletes stuck diligently to their talking points, smiled openly and were humble and even downright charming. A complete 180 from the 2008 Olympics, when many of these same interviewees mumbled, eye-rolled and hissy fitted their way through the games.

So today, I tuned in to Wimbledon, hoping the interviews would live up to the poise and ease of Roger Federer following his French Open win and the graciousness (and wit) of his opponent, Robin Soderling. Not so much.

I know he was exhausted from a grueling five setter, but Andy Murray, did you really have to chew gum on camera? And what's with the mumbling, sullenness and general avoidance of the camera (hint: it's that big metallic thing with the blinking light pointed straight at your face)?

These days, success in any industry requires some media savvy. Murray, spit out the gum and give me a ring--I'd gladly trade media tips for courtside seats at Wimbledon--and don't forget the fruity drinks! ;)