Vacation took it’s toll on me.
I ran on all cylinders while away, and sometimes even surpassed that. Being away on a whirlwind road trip vacation through 13 states is exhilaration (and exhaustion) enough, let alone coupling it with BlogHer and 2500 comrades-in-arms in blogland. Doing it back to back has sent my poor body into a tailspin, and I feel like I’m tumbling out of control, desperate for space yet simultaneously needing quiet cuddle time with my family. If that makes any sense whatsoever.
We could’ve used a week to recover from it all, but the way we were forced to time everything, what with my husbands work schedule and everything, we took this trip with little extra time to spare, every minute planned, allowing us enough driving time to arrive home with one day to shop for school supplies before school started.
Home on Monday night, school started early Wednesday morning.
There’s been no break, no time to breathe, to regroup and recover. It’s been one thing after the next. We’re all spent, emotionally and physically, left slightly on edge, fumbling for normalcy.
Our weekends home are spent trying to do as little as possible, but that isn’t easy when things still need to get done for school, additional supplies to purchase, additional groceries or toiletries needed. Instead, we could have all spent each weekend in bed, feet up, deep breaths, vegging out for the next few weeks and still not feel 100% caught up.
It almost feels like it’s happening too fast, like we’re on a roller coaster that’s turned up faster than what is normal, and shifting side-to-side and upside down, with loopty-loops churning our stomachs and overworked bodies into jiggling mush.
And yet I don’t want to get off this dizzying ride.
I keep reliving the memories made on our trip. Recalling how hot and tired we were from walking in Washington that scorching day, enamored with the sights but beaten down by the blazing heat, overwhelmed by the richness of history around us, but relieved by the brief coolness of water that washed over us at the World War II Memorial.
After climbing the mountainous stairs to the Lincoln Memorial, looking out over the Reflecting Pool and across the water, feeling exhilarated and exhausted yet grateful to be there, surrounded by others feeling the same.
There was such an enormity to it all – an enormity to the memorials and statues, enormity to the weight of the history, enormity in feeling so infinitesimal and unworthy but enormously proud and honored.
Humbled, thankful, and saddened by the enormity of some of what we saw. I was almost unable to catch my breath.
It’s something I’ve taken back with me. This slice of great in gratefulness for having lived, and breathed and been hip-deep in all of it, swelling with pride and honor like skin does when submerged in water too long. I’m pruny and wrinkly with admiration.
As I mentioned earlier, exhausted both mentally and physically. But, despite my exhaustion and the trouble I’m having reengaging, I’d drop everything to leave and do it all again this very moment.
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