I’ve returned recently from a holiday where I packed all but the kitchen sink and, if there’d been a fold-up version, it would have gone in too.
My suitcase was so full I had to sit on it to make the zip bits come together as I acknowledged there’d be no chance of bringing back a souvenir or two.
I chose two books and a Kindle for my reading material. Both books – each heavy and cumbersome – belonged to a relative who would require them back and they took up more than their fair share of my hand luggage. Never mind, I told myself it was good exercise for at least one shoulder as I carried the bag around for the two hours before take-off. I’m a cheap travel type of gal so had not thought of parking anything anywhere ahead of the flight.
Fast forward and I’ve arrived at my picturesque village hotel. I’ve been collected and deposited there, the building’s quite beautiful and I’m hopeful that I’ll have a great time.
There’s a bit of a drawback when the receptionist explains very pleasantly how to get to my room (across the little road and in what looks like an annex of some kind) and offered no help at all with all the add-ons I’m carrying with me.
I changed arms, pulled the overcrowded suitcase with the left and reflected on how lucky I am to have very long arms. Unfortunately, I’m not very tall so much more of the arm-lengthening experienced and I’d be scraping my knuckles across the cobbled ground. That’ll teach me.
The marvellous rooms I’d spotted in the brochure were not exactly like the one I’d been assigned to which was a little more like those overnight stop-offs you get at an airport or near a hotel conference centre. Still, I was glad I’d paid extra for a sea view, even though I’d wondered who picks a seaside holiday without wanting to get a look at the sea?
I unpacked, hung everything up to give myself a sense of grounding and observed with pride that I had something to wear for every occasion. How organised was that!
To cut a long story short, I had a good time. I spent most of it lying on a sun lounger and swimming in the small but perfectly formed pool on top of the complex. The evenings were informal except for one amazing wine-tasting and dinner outing when I did get the chance to put on the long skirt, the black top and the gold sandals.
And back I came, suitcase still overloaded despite my shedding the after-sun lotion, an exhausted swimming costume and one or two other bits and pieces, plus the two books in the hand luggage.
The drawback of that trip of course was that I wasn’t looking forward to my adventure, I was returning just a tad disappointed to “normal” life, and that included a delayed train journey in an overcrowded carriage late at night, followed by an equally crowded but mercifully short bus trip home.
I opened the front door, lugged (would that be where the word came from, I wonder?) my case across the threshold and left it there till morning. Most of what was inside was unnecessary and unused.
Unpacking was quick – funny how fast you forget. After I’d deposited the clothes on the bed, it seemed like I’d taken very little with me. What was all the fuss about? And, you may wonder, why on earth am I writing about it? Please bear with me.
I’m a great one for looking on the positive side and that sometimes means I might dismiss some useful opportunities for learning. However, if I don’t learn this time then, next time, I’ll face the same problems again. How helpful is that?
My problem comes with my indecision and, to be honest, a case (pun unintentional but intended) of last-minute-itis. I didn’t pack until the last minute, couldn’t decide what to take and so I threw everything in. To my credit, it was all clean, so that was a bonus but, even so, I’m a very mature adult (in age at least) so why was I behaving like a chaotic teenager or – worse still – an even littler person.
On reflection, it could be something to do with a chaotic style of family life in childhood where everything was last minute, if not later. Or perhaps it’s a tendency to go for the “freeze” (as opposed to “flight” or “fight”) option when feeling stressed or maybe, even, that the drama of the chaos is exciting for me and I enjoy it?
With further rumination (but in a healthy way), I’ve decided to rule out the third one – I really, really do not enjoy it – and think the first two might be behind my actions.
The question then is: Am I happy with the knowledge and understanding why I do something, or do I want to change my behaviour? That’s what counselling and therapy is very much about. Does an understanding make a difference so there’s no need for change? Or do you still want to change?
In my case, I want to make a change and I’m planning to begin this month. Instead of waiting for Spring, I’m going to use the start of the new school year – September – to let go of all that extra baggage, both mentally and physically.
I’m going to audit my clothes and possessions and discard those I haven’t used or loved over the past year. I’ll allow myself a couple of weeks’ grace to make certain of my choices and then off they’ll go.
I’ll fail, of course, to a certain extent, but that won’t stop me trying. And the next time I go on holiday, I intend to be carrying a much smaller case, both in my head and in my hands. It’s time to start settling my accounts. Happy Michaelmas!