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A Quiet Holiday (Which I’m Already Failing At)

Took a holiday. Yes, an actual holiday.
No, I don’t know how to behave either, please send help.

After weeks of work, bruises and questionable life choices, I’ve traded all that in for palm trees, ocean breeze and SPF 50 that smells like coconut and broken promises. I even tried relaxing… For a full five minutes before my brain reminded me that peace is suspicious.

Turns out, I’m awful at vacations.
People say, “Just disconnect!” like that’s not the hardest mission I’ve ever been assigned. My instincts still turn every seashell into a potential threat and every family of tourists into a tactical map. Old habits die hard. In my case, refuse to die at all.

But I’ll give the ocean one thing:
It shuts up the ghosts. Not completely but enough that I can drink my coffee without scanning for exits every three seconds. Progress.
So here’s to taking a break. To sleeping in (until 7 a.m., which is basically noon for me), to drinking something fruity with a tiny umbrella and to pretending I don’t see my phone blinking at me from across the room.

If anyone needs me, I’ll be by the water, contemplating life, rethinking my choices and probably getting sunburned in a very specific, embarrassing shape.
Vacation is going… Surprisingly okay.
I might even do it again.
(After six months of recovery from this one.)