I love to travel. To see new places, get a break from the regular routine.
Whether it’s for work, for a blog conference, a brand trip, a family vacation, or visiting family: I look forward to it and enjoy it.
But I’m always, always ready to be home by the end of the trip.
And this past week, I think I may have overdone it.
Because by yesterday morning, I not only was ready to be home, I was anxiously looking around for some sort of magic button that would immediately transport me home.
I’d taken the boys to my family last week and left them there while I flew to BlogHer, allowing my parents the time with them that they’d been asking for and so Hubs wouldn’t have to take off time from work while I was away. Plus, we usually make a trip to see my family anyway, so why not combine the two trips?
But as much as I loved BlogHer, each day had about a week’s worth of activity crammed into it. So by the end of the four days, I felt like I’d been gone for a month.
And yet, at the end, I wasn’t heading home to NC, I was headed back to PA to get my boys and visit some more.
I loved being able to see my family and especially to squish on my newest niece.
Really, I didn’t have a date when I absolutely had to get back. As long as I had my computer, I could theoretically get work done there. So why not extend the visit? I had friends that I really wanted to see, especially my friend I’ve known the longest(trying to refrain from saying “my oldest friend” since we aren’t old). And I could spend more time with my family.
But by yesterday morning, the thought of being away from home, from Hubs, from a regular routine(where I could actually get work done instead of just theoretically), from being where I could curl up with my boys in our sunroom, or where I could lock a door and know no one would come barging in… it was overwhelming and I wanted home right now.
So, instead of waiting even one more day and leaving after a good night’s rest, I threw all of our stuff in the back of the van in a fashion that I’m sure I’ll regret this morning when I go to unpack and we left yesterday afternoon, getting back home in the middle of the night.
I’m exhausted right now and I probably left the wrong impression behind, like I was upset or something. I truly wasn’t- I just wanted home. I wanted it so badly that every single thing was making me stabby, things that really don’t bother me but the irritation of not being home was seeping through my pores, making it seem like I hated the world.
Anxiety was taking over and a restlessness that meant I couldn’t enjoy myself where I was.
It was time for home.
And I’m so glad that I’m back here. I launched myself at Hubs, practically crying I was so happy to see him. Sent the kids off to bed and curled up on my own bed and contentedly fell asleep(okay, passed out from exhaustion).
It felt so good to wake up this morning with Hubs beside me, the kids tucked into their own beds, nothing on the agenda except for work, being back to our regular routine. Even if I might end up taking a nap the second I press publish on this post- a 10 hour drive ending in the middle of the night after such a long time away is no joke.
There truly is no place like home. I’m like Dorothy, only forget the ruby slippers and hand me my flip flops: this beach girl is home.
Click if you want to find out more about Pour Your Heart Out. Remember, it’s about what you want to pour out: it’s personal, so there isn’t an assigned topic. It’s also about being supportive of others who are sharing: so visit other linkers and be kind with your comments.