I'm a planner. I like to be prepared. This trait probably speaks to the student I was who ploughed through Crime and Punishment in two days or knocked out my exams as quickly as I could so that I could grant myself permission to relax.
On a recent trip to visit family, I thought: I've got this planned out. I sorted out flights and meals and itineraries. I get to relax! What I hadn't considered even a little bit is the altitude difference between living at sea level as we do in Virginia Beach and that of the Sierra Nevadas. It struck me with fascination how layered my body's response was. My drive for perfection and excellence (and maximum fun) had to take a beat; I had to pause.
I have lived experience with disordered eating and dysmorphia. The work I've put in has helped me make peace (or, some days, broker a truce) with my body. In appreciation and awe of how hard my body was working in this new environment (to breathe, to digest, to move), I was able to reframe and truly relax. It was an absolute joy to be with my loved ones and the quiet, still, even lazy moments were a gift. I approached hikes with curiosity instead of inner competition or critique. An unexpected challenge transformed into a downshift that left me fully present and grateful.