My little family and I have just returned from a long weekend away. It was our 2nd wedding anniversary, so we packed up and headed south to the luxurious Sheraton Mirage Gold Coast. What can I say? WOW!
We wined, we dined, we swam, we cocktail-ed, we even had one child-free night to ourselves! The sun was out, the skies were blue, it was like being in paradise! The resort is right on the beach and laced with tropical gardens heavy with palm trees and hibiscus. The whole setting was perfect. And then Monday rolled around….and Trav and I began our usual descent into post-holiday depression.
Yes, post-holiday depression is totally a thing. Trav and I are frequent sufferers, and no we’ve not found a cure as yet. We’d just had the most heavenly weekend and I didn’t want to go home. Trav also didn’t want to go home. Even Violet didn’t want to go home and leave her new-found friend. (Apologies to housekeeping for all the finger and kiss marks on the mirrors!).
We had to be strong and just accept it. Our dream weekend was coming to an end, and there was nothing we could do. We forced ourselves to enjoy one last buffet breakfast. I felt irritated as I chatted to the chef who was personally preparing my bespoke omelette. I reluctantly piled my plate with freshly baked pastries and then trudged my way over to the fresh, tropical fruit that had been perfectly cut up and prepared into ready-made bite size pieces. I piled them on my plate.
I walked back to the table and slumped into my chair. Our waitress bought over the barista-made coffee’s we’d ordered, and I sat there, sipping my sweet, hot brew, knowing it too would come to an end and I’d miss it almost immediately. Finished it; Missed it. Trav then went on a tirade about how he’d missed out on his ready-made Eggs Benedict, cos a group of inconsiderate conference attendees had descended on the buffet and stolen them all. (It’s been 24 hours and he’s STILL not over it, but we’re working on it).
After we’d eaten all that we could, we dragged our over-stuffed, sorry asses back up to our suite. Once there, we lay on the day bed in the sunshine, reading the paper and admiring the ocean views. *Sigh*. Trav asked “Should we go for one last swim?”. Hey, why not? I thought. I squeezed into my togs (seems they shrank a size) and lathered myself in sunscreen as summer has arrived early, which just made the whole thing that much harder. We made our way to the newly re-furbed pool that was pre-heated to 29 degrees. Yep, you could walk straight into the water and not need to stand on your tippy toes or hold your breath.
As we swam about the giant lagoon-like pool, I glanced over at the swim-up bar where I’d just been enjoying Pina-Colada’s and Flying Hawaiian’s the day before. “Why isn’t the bar open?” I wondered out loud. “It’s only 9:30 in the morning….” Trav replied, also out loud. Kinda awkward, but I’m ok with it, I mean you know you’re on holidays when you think it’s completely acceptable to swim up and order a cocktail at 9:30 in the morning right?! (stop judging me).
After a while, suitably wrinkled and refreshed, we decided to exit the pool. Trav and Violet decided to explore the tropical garden surrounds as I lay on the pool deck, drinking in the morning sun (no, it’s not the name of a cocktail…although if the bar had have been open I would have totally been on it!). I reminisced about the weekend that was quickly coming to an end: A romantic dinner with my husband of 2 years, frequent ransacking of the mini-bar, our delicious buffet breakfasts, cocktails by the pool, a spot of shopping (child-free!), coffees and strolls along the boardwalk, daytime napping (hallelujah!)…..we did it all. It was amazing! It was relaxing! And it was about to end. WAHHHHHHH!!!!!!
The depressing haze that was slowly descending got me thinking. Couldn’t we just be on holidays all of the time? Would we ever get sick of it? Would the novelty ever wear off? Couldn’t we just barricade our hotel room door and refuse to leave? After much thought, the answers rang in my head as follows: No, No, No, Yes, but we’d already eaten all the good stuff in the mini-bar so we’d likely starve. Bugger!
As we packed our bags and got ready to vacate our room (we did an express check-out so that the front desk staff didn’t have to deal with our full-blown attitude) we started to realise that our much anticipated long weekend was coming to a close, and that we had to come up a way to deal with the predictable low-lights that we knew would follow. The long drive home. The house that didn’t magically clean itself in our absence. The mounds of dirty washing. The empty fridge.
As I sit here, crying on the inside, I realise I still don’t have the answer. Apparently ignoring the mountain of washing doesn’t help, and looking at our holiday photo’s depicting happier times also doesn’t seem to be working!
So here’s my question: How do you deal with coming home after a lovely holiday? Do you suffer from the same post-holiday depression that we do? Got any tips on how to accept that your life no-longer involves a buffet breakfast every day? PLEASE HELP!
A little side note regarding depression: This post has been written (and therefore should be read) in a sarcastic tone however I thought it important to point out that real depression is no laughing matter. If you or someone you know is suffering depression, help is available. More information on depression and how to deal with it can is available through Beyond Blue.