There was a time when I was in graduate school, just after I had successfully completed my comprehensive examinations, when I felt the need for some down time. I had worked hard on writing, doing library research, thinking, preparing for the exams, and I had this vision of my head exploding if I didn't allow myself a break. So I took about a month of what I called "decompression time." (Remember, Donna?) I didn't write, I didn't read -- at least I didn't write or read anything academic. At first I felt guilty about it, and didn't say anything to anyone about what I was NOT doing. But after a week or so, I felt the tension fall away from around my shoulders and neck, and I knew that it was the right decision.
Now I'm approaching that one-week mark again. Well, I have been in the office a bit, but mostly I've done yard work, read mystery novels (I've just discovered Elizabeth George, and I love her characters!), ridden my bike around town to do errands, and cooked. It feels good.
At the same time, there is this voice in the back of my head that is pressuring me to get back to work on a variety of projects that need doing. I may give in momentarily, but I'm trying to preserve what I can of the summer for much-needed decompression.
I also went to see a chiropractor yesterday, but that is another story for another day.
Now it's time for me to think about whether I should read a bit or plan tonight's dinner . . .