Feel the Guilt. And Do It Anyway.

I actually didn’t want to go.

That's the honest truth. I'd had the trip planned for over a year - a kid free trip away in the sunshine, some time with my husband, then a solo yoga retreat, time that was entirely, unapologetically mine - something I'd wanted and planned for a long time. And in the weeks leading up to it, every single part of me started fixating on all the reasons it was probably not a great idea to go.

You know that feeling? When something is for you -entirely, it somehow makes it feel way too high pressure, and suddenly you just want to pick all the holes in it and convince yourself it’s ‘probably not for you’?

The preparation alone was a military operation. If you're a woman - a mum, a business owner, someone who keep your family eco system running- you'll know exactly what I mean. Going away for a week isn't just going away. It's meal plans, washed stacked uniforms, sports kits and jazz shoes, approximately forty-seven WhatsApps,  a three page handover and a lot of middle of the night wake ups where you randomly have to make a list of where all the waterproof sheets are kept. It's sticky notes on the fridge and secret notes to your kids saying ‘Mummy loves you, have a good week, don’t forget your guitar on thursday!’ and explaining the school run three different ways to three different people. It's stock piling the whole spectrum of snacks that will satisfy your children’s morning, noon and night time needs and ensuring you’ve restocked the dog treats and wormed the cat. 

And then, the night before I left, my youngest looked at me with those big round eyes and said ‘I come with you mummy?’ - and a few hours later the eldest snuggled into my bed and says ‘I don’t want you to go!!’ 

OOF. The guilt hits hard. And suddenly that kicks off the merry go round list of ‘all the reasons I shouldn’t go away’ once again. 

I also had the small-business-owner guilt along for the ride, naturally. If I'm not working, the business suffers. If I'm not visible, di I exist?! If I stop, everything stops. It's a very convincing lie, bordering on a mild existential crisis. The kind of narrative you  believe because you've been repeating it so long it feels very factual.

But here's the thing. That guilt? That heavy, serious, warning feeling? The one that sounds so credible, so concerned, so responsible?

I’m calling BS on it. 

Following the yellow brick road

Guilt - I’ve realized - is a bit like the Wizard of Oz. (Bear with).

You know the scene. Dorothy finally reaches the great and powerful wizard - this enormous, terrifying presence that's been looming over everything. And then Toto pulls back the curtain, and it's just... a man. A small, ordinary man with a microphone and a smoke machine, doing his very best to seem like something he isn't.

Guilt is exactly like that. It presents itself like a serious warning. Don't go. They need you. Something will go wrong. What kind of person leaves? It feels weighty and urgent and true. But pull back the curtain, and it's mostly just fear - weak and whiny, scrambling to come up with any reason at all to spoil your fun and keep you small.

Which raises the question I keep coming back to: what is guilt actually for?

I wonder sometimes if it's less a moral compass and more a very loud signal - one that's asking you to be really honest about what you actually need and value. Because the guilt doesn't show up around things that don't matter - it shows up precisely around the things that do. The solo trips, the yoga classes, the mornings idling away with a coffee doing not very much. Maybe guilt is less a stop sign, and more an invitation to finally stop outsourcing yourself constantly, as your own concierge to literally everyone in your life,  and start keeping a little back just for you - aligning with who you actually are.

So dear reader - I went anyway.

One short day

Within 24 hours of arriving, something started to shift.

Something happened when I stopped - properly - for the first time in what feels like forever. You remember who you are when you're not being needed by everyone else. You become a whole person, an independent, on your own schedule, time, energy - and initially it’s very weird. But once I realised that nothing was at stake if I didn’t message the kids, or double triple check what they needed for the school trip, or worry about how the puppy is getting on - (i.e. the sneaky wizard of guilt trying to trip me up again) -  I discovered that this new state of being was really quite appealing.

This break was everything I didn't know I was really craving. Morning yoga. Real conversations with women who were vibrant and curious and full of life, and interesting stories, and hilarity. Movement that felt joyful rather than like another box to tick. Food that was out of this world delicious and crucially - not planned, prepped or served by me. Oh and the sunshine just solar powered and super charged all the above to next level. 

The space to think - felt generous, unhurried and luxurious (cue a little more guilt).

The privilege to not think about the school run or the content calendar for a few days was freeing (and the ripple effect was a pleasing absolving of all common sense/responsibility, where I barely looked at my phone, never knew what the time was and just did whatever was next on the dreamy agenda).

The lack of decision making was addictive. That’s something I’m taking home with me - the attempt to just not care so much about the detail, the planning and just be satisfied with ‘it is what it is’.

A happy ending 

Stepping away gave me perspective I didn't even know I'd lost - all the things I'd been treating as ‘urgent/important/must be done right now’? Mostly weren't. The clarity I'd been too exhausted to access? Started coming back into focus.

My cup really  started to fill. Bubbling and sloshing about from all the conversations, connections, sunshine, change of pace, change of scenery, change full stop. And I’m going home with that running over, hopefully spilling out into how I can better show up as a mum, business owner, human, and all the other roles I play. 

In short, a proper switch off from whatever mode you need a break from (mum,work, chief meal planner) means counterintuitively, you become more - not less - for the people who need you. So if you're standing in front of your own version of this decision right now - the trip, the course, the morning to yourself, the thing that's entirely and unapologetically yours - and the guilt is doing its Wizard thing, telling you not to go…

Pull back the curtain. Feel the guilt. Look it in the eye. Click your heels together three times and go do the thing.

The planning is next level. The guilt is real. Go anyway.