Two summers ago, while struggling at a tough internship and thumbing through Instagram stories on my phone, I made a promise to myself: that someday, somehow, I will bring myself on my first ever big-girl-trip.
No parents, no budget, and no worries – just me and the endless blue sky, enjoying slow days by the beach sipping on fresh juice.
(It was a loose promise. There wasn’t much I could do while caught up in the throes of growing up faster than I’d like.)
Like the way leaves changed without permission or mercy, I felt like I was hurtling through time as I transitioned from student to graduate to first-jobber to girl-who-just-needs-a-break.
One day, the stars aligned and there was a dip in flight prices. This is it. The time is now.
Three months later, I hopped on a plane to Seoul to begin my 16 day-long trip of my dreams.
IF YOU FAIL TO PLAN, YOU PLAN TO FAIL
For most of my life, I’ve been a massive Type-A planner.
My booking confirmations went straight into their respective folders for each leg of my trip: Seoul, Busan, Fuji, Tokyo. Then came the gargantuan spreadsheet of activities and places to visit, all colour-coded and timestamped with an accompanying Google Map.
My spreadsheet was a twelve-point blanket that wrapped around me warmly as I slept, shaping dreams of having hot miso soup at 9.10am, visiting the amusement park at 10am, before the 4.34pm bus back to Shinjuku station.
With my vacation planned down to the minute, I was ready to have the time of my life knowing that nothing will go wrong…
…How wrong I was.
SELF-CARE OR SELF-SABOTAGE?
My meticulously planned itinerary, once a roadmap, became a tyrannical taskmaster. I became a captive to my checklist, rushing from one destination to the other to maximise my day.
The initial thrill of exploration dwindled quickly, replaced by an invisible pressure to tick every stop off my itinerary.
I distinctly recall my third day in Seoul where I speed-walked about 15 thousand steps straight trying to finish visiting all 21 stores I had pinned on my map. I wish I could say I enjoyed visiting all the places I did, but in truth, I could only remember how sweaty and painfully nauseous I felt.
This was all for the greater good – or so I thought. If I ate all my meals on time, I won’t have to struggle with acid reflux. If I planned things down to the minute, I’ll never have to rush or risk being late. If I visit every place I planned to, I can return home with no regrets.
Planning everything out detailedly is how I try to be considerate for future me; it is my choice of self-care.
Have I overdone things? Is this really how I should be taking care of myself?
Perhaps the true failure in my plan was that I had everything planned too well. Every stop, every minute was accounted for, and any deviation caused unnecessary stress.
YOU CAN STILL BE HAPPY
I vividly recall the first moment in my trip where I let myself sit down and take a break that wasn’t already inked into my spreadsheet.
Beneath the brilliant viridescent canopy of a tree in Seongsu, I sat and savoured a little can of grape juice, my racing heart gradually calming.
I people-watched. Then, I sifted through my purchases and grouped them into a larger shopping bag – something I was dying to do earlier on to relieve my left shoulder of all the weight, but couldn’t, as I felt like I couldn’t afford to slow down. I snapped a silly 0.5 selfie which I sent to my family, then opened TikTok and giggled at videos of kittens clambering over one another.
When I went on my way again, my shopping bag bouncing against my hip, I felt lighter. It occurred to me there and then that the break was good for me in more ways than one. While I let my aching feet rest, I took the time to observe my surroundings, enjoy the present, and reconnect with my loved ones back home.
A realisation dawned upon me.
Why was I rushing? Why was I panicking? Aren’t vacations for relaxation and enjoyment?
Back home, my nine-to-six was a constant race for punctuality and productivity, and I’d foolishly brought that same mindset to my getaway. The irony was bittersweet.
While I was caught up in the rush and excitement of being overseas and ticking things off my bucket list, I’d forgotten all about the true goal of my vacation in the first place – to relax and recharge.
As the days went on, the grip I had on my meticulously planned itinerary loosened. The numbers on my spreadsheet faded to the back of my mind as I veered off my pre-planned route to check out little trinket shops here and there.
When tired, I rested; when energised, I wandered. The anxiety I once felt in wanting my vacation to go perfectly to plan eventually dissipated as I embraced the rhythm of the moment.
Turns out, life is better when you let adventure find you instead.
ALL THINGS WORK OUT FOR GOOD
16 days is a long time away from home.
Amongst other important lessons on subway navigation and Nihongo 101, the lesson I hold closest to my heart is how to be intentional in showing myself kindness and patience – even if the circumstances beg otherwise.
Now, months after my trip, I can’t remember much about the shrines I visited in Tokyo or what my last meal in Busan tasted like.
All I recall were the moments where I took a pause to let myself be –
When I finally sat on the soft sand at Gwangalli beach after a long day of travelling from Seoul;
When I opened my curtains to see Mount Fuji beaming back at me under the morning sun, though I was tired and worried I’d missed breakfast;
When I missed the shuttle bus to a famous pagoda, but found my new favourite snack of lemon and salt potato sticks instead.
Sure, there were still moments where I felt guilty and downtrodden about wasting hours waiting for the next train when I missed the first. The what-could’ve-beens were uncountable.
But I chose to forgive myself and embrace the journey.
Oftentimes, the simple decision to let go and let be has helped to create more meaning for me than any action-packed moment.
I am deadlines and running late for work and gulping down my coffee while it’s too hot; but I am also the distant trill of cicadas in summer and counting the tiles when I vacuum my living room.
Of course, not everyone is able to take 16 full days out of their year to disappear on vacation and come back a changed person.
But a good starting point would be to take a step back and look at how we spend our breaks in our everyday life: do we live our lunch breaks in apprehension before returning to work? When things go wrong, do we throw ourselves into the chaos or do we wait to see how the knots unravel?
In a world that relentlessly pulls us forward, there is still value in slowing down. When we create moments of stillness for ourselves, we don’t only recharge but also deepen our connection to our selves and the world around us.
From one anxious person to another, I hope this story has encouraged you to seek joy in the pauses interwoven in our everyday lives, no matter how big or small.
Happy travels!