Home Sweet Home?

I am back home in London after a week long summer vacation on the beautiful sunny island of Mallorca.

I had a truly wonderful time; there may have been a few bumps, but for the most part, I was the most content and relaxed I have been – and consistently so – for quite some time. It was more than just a pleasure to be able to leave behind my responsibilities and busy schedule, to forget about the “pressures” of technology and social media, to be accountable to nothing and nobody. I had the rare opportunity to pause for a whole week, within a peaceful mountainside setting, and in the entertaining and loving company of some special family members, too. 

It is ironic how challenging I find the process of self-soothing when I’m bumbling about my daily life in London, because pretty much the entire week in Mallorca was spent doing just that! My daily activities consisted of sleeping in, reading, colouring, sun-bathing, swimming, eating delicious food, drinking, listening to great music, playing Scrabble and Table Tennis, visiting unique and spectacular sites, etcetera. There actually wasn’t very much I did that wasn’t self-soothing in some way.
  

 


Usually when I return home after being abroad, it can be a bit of a challenge reacclimatising to London life. I tend to experience some post-holiday blues, or an unsettling disorientation, of sorts. Luckily I have one day more (another day of rest – as though I haven’t had enough of those recently!) to readjust before I jump back into work, therapy, and other arrangements.

I am going to try and intentionally do at least one enjoyable or self-caring activity per day in order to keep up the self-soothing progress I made whilst I was away. I am hoping this will perpetuate the positive feelings I experienced throughout my week in Mallorca and also lower my vulnerabilities now that I am indeed back home.

I admit to experiencing my usual sadness, anxiety and dread at the prospect of being “back in reality” per se; however, I also know that the anticipation tends to be a helluva lot worse than that reality itself, and that this is certainly worth remembering.

P.s. Oh, and I didn’t wear sleeves to cover my scars; not once. 👍

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