Diary of a busy practitioner, somewhere in England

Once someone said to me that there is no point in going on holiday, because you forget it all when you are back to work. I didn’t take that advice.

I’m just back from a lovely week abroad. I spend so much time thinking about what the “right” holiday might look like. We’ve all heard that a holiday with a baby isn’t a holiday, a holiday with toddlers isn’t a holiday, and that teens ruin most holidays. Sometimes it can even be hard spending that much time with your partner.

It is also so expensive. When I went away with my friend after A Levels, it cost us £300. Not to put too fine a point on it (and at the risk of comments) every holiday we have had since Covid (all being one week in Europe) have cost about 20 times that amount. There are a number of reasons for this- we are paying for four people, in school holidays, and I just can’t bear the thought of it being rubbish. 

Anyway, our week away was lovely. And something happened to me during the week. My thoughts entirely shifted and slowed. At one point I read some of the messages I had sent my husband before the holiday and I didn’t remember sending them, or recognise myself. I didn’t particularly like his replies either.

One conversation went like this: 'She can have her phone back when she tidies her room. Please support me with this' - me

'There’s a funny smell in the spare room' - him

'Can you put washing out' - me

'Need to get cash out' - him

'Salmon for dinner. Not pizza. Please support me with this' - me

I can just tell how high into my forehead my eyebrows were each time I said 'please support me with this'. And why did neither of us respond to the other at any point?

During the holiday, our messages were all beaming photos of the kids and a couple that went like this:

'Slow Horses'

'Colin from Accounts'

'Rivals'

'East of Eden'

'Carrie'

'Last One Laughing Halloween'

And

'Pumpkin risotto'

'Beef bourguignon'

'Pumpkin seed pesto'

'Chicken pie'

'Fondue night?'

'Shall I make those Oreo spider cakes for Halloween again?'

We had stopped feeding the machine that is our house with laundry, dishes, food and cash for the dog walker. All we had to think about was whether we wanted to go to the beach or the pool first, which freed up so much brain space to regroup. 

Interestingly, my watch kept telling me that my HRV was through the roof. The slowing of my thoughts had improved my physical health, within just a few days.

I’m now back at work and the kids are back at school. I’m trying so hard not to become obsessed, again, with my productivity. It is so hard, particularly when your job requires you to account for every six minutes. Yesterday I offered our plumber a coffee and he inexplicably thought I meant that we would have a coffee together, and I lost 4fourunits of my life. I can’t say my eyelid wasn’t twitching throughout but I reminded myself that it’s nice to stop and have a chat sometimes.

I can’t 'live to work' like I was before my holiday, particularly not if it so clearly affects my health. I’m actually missing the kids while they are at school, and looking forward to some good times with them this autumn. Maybe it is inevitable that my stress levels will go back up, but on the bright side, for the first time in six weeks, I’ve been in the car without the Olivias (Dean and Rodrigo) blaring out, and no one has whacked me on the shoulder when a yellow car has driven past. That’s got to help, right?