VACATION = ANXIETY

Vacations are supposed to be relaxing, right? Why do  I feel like I need to find the nearest tall bridge to jump off then? (Oh, don't get all freaky and call the suicide hotline, I'm just bitching here, nothing to worry about.) I'm just saying that vacations bring me a bit of anxiety.

If you don't already know it, I'm a total workaholic.  I work in a very fast paced, high stress job, and I never get time off.  This is the first real vacation I've taken in over 4 years.  I'm not even sure I still know how to relax.  I don't relax, ever.  I don't know when the last time I slept past 6am was.  I'm just really kind of a stresscase. My phone is always on, and I'm on call all the time.

I'm leaving tomorrow morning to take my kids to the beach for a week.  We are meeting a big group of my extended family and having a mini-reunion.  There will also be a fun little beach wedding thrown in to the mix during the week.  My phone is going off, my email left unattended, and I'm not bringing an alarm clock. This alone gives me a major sense of anxiety.

Here's where I really freak out.  Nobody outside my immediate family knows that I had surgery.  They may have seen pics of me on facebook and wondered why I look different, I don't know? Many of my family members are also overweight.  I hope that I serve as an inspiration to them versus a topic of catty gossip throughout the week.  It will be interesting to say the least.  I'm proud of me, and I guess that's all that matters.

Then there's the whole what am I going to eat to stick to my fairly militant high protein paleo diet this week question looming in my knoggin. I'm planning ahead, but there's about a 90% chance that the plan will be tossed aside and I'll use that phrase from "Risky Business" ..."sometimes you just have to say 'what the fuck'". While I don't see donuts in my future, the chances of fried fish and chips appearing on a plate near me soon are great.  I am making a conscious decision ahead of time to not beat myself up about my food choices this week. I've spent the better part of my life beating myself up for being a diet failure, there is no need to continue that trend now.  I love myself too much to be mean like that.

I don't even want to get into the whole topic of wearing swimsuits in public for the first time in literally a decade.  I'm not sure who it will be more scary for? Me, because I'm really body conscious and still trying to learn to be comfortable in my newly leaner body, or those around me, because this body hasn't seen the light of day in years and is GHOST WHITE.  Think Casper.  Frightening, right?

Tossing my fears aside, my goals for the week are simple.  I'm going to learn to sleep in again. Ride my bike along the coast. Take walks on the beach. Read good books. Ride a shitload of waves. Rock a bathing suit in public and just love it. Go to a wedding and eat cake. Smile and laugh a lot.

When I get back, it will be only a few days until the one year anniversary of my surgery.  I can't wait.  That day is very important to me.  It's the day I took my life back.