I’m on day four of PTO, at home in the Midwest, listening to a summer thunderstorm roar over the afternoon sky. For the first time in months, the steady waterfall of rain against the windows is courtesy of the real thing and not the fancy sound machine slash alarm clock next to my bed. I feel… calm, despite the rather intimidating to-do list waiting for me back in New York.
For context, I haven’t taken a real break since February, and even that was just a long solo weekend trip. Yes, my travel schedule is blessed with numerous work-related adventures—and yes, each one is incredible—but aside from a week-long bereavement leave (which is, shock of shocks, NOT relaxing) my brain has been cooking at full steam for the last six months. Luckily being booked and busy appeals to my ambitious nature, particularly when it’s a mix of a job I enjoy and friends I adore (plus a few very cute, very sexy people). But I hadn’t really paused to appreciate just how non-stop I’ve felt during this time, partly because the busier I am, the less time I have to sink deep into the sadness of my grief.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Anxiety Beer to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.