My family of 8 had been planning our holiday to Europe for months upon months, full of anticipation and excitement, counting down the days til we left. Prior to covid we, like many others loved to travel, simply craving adventure, and were privileged enough to do so.
Despite my excitement, I was also weary.
I knew that this would be my first trip since my depression diagnoses, and that was front of my mind. The thought of an episode happening whilst we were away frightened me to the point I considered to abandon the trip all together. But I just kept thinking, who could be depressed when they are high up in the mountains of France, or surrounded by the gorgeous lake Como. Spoiler alert, I can.
I am writing this article because it is one that I wish I could have read when I was at my low points on my recent vacation. I was desperate to feel seen and that I was allowed to feel this way but found nothing. No one seems to talk about the sense of overwhelm that holidays can bring. We are too busy picking the perfect Instagram picture to post, sharing all of the fun times we are having. And I don’t doubt that for many people this is true. Though, for me it didn’t play out this way.
I was convinced that a change of scenery, let alone country, surrounded by my family ensured my depression would be gone.
My sister and I in Australia
As I cried to my mum in the hotel: “This wasn’t meant to happen. I’m in the fucking capitol of Christmas and for the life of me cannot get out of bed!”
But what she kindly taught me was that, what will not work in Balmain will not work in Berlin. Being depressed at home is no different to being depressed in France. Mental illness, so much as we might wish does not take a holiday. I am a creature of habit and routine so the uncertainty that travel produced was daunting. New people, new places and new languages I could not understand was stressful. Not having a place to zone out when sharing a room with your family or simply hide was scary. Yet I was convinced this feeling was wrong. I watched my sister get dressed and go out with a smile, excited to explore the new city. I was jealous and frustrated. I was angry that something that should be so fun was causing me such distress. I wanted to disappear and fly home, particularly so I would not spoil my family’s time.
I also feared the guilt I might feel of staying in and ‘wasting’ the day sickening, as I knew how much my family had sacrificed to be here. But as a write this I feel no guilt or regret. I did exactly what I needed at the time to cope and that is completely okay. My family fortunately support this too.
My Dad and I in Prague
I am not writing this as a dig at holidays, don’t get me wrong I did enjoy many many days out and about where I was as happy as can be. I just want others in my situation to give themselves a break. Holidays are considered to be relaxing and fun but if you don’t feel that, it is okay. It is overwhelming, tiring and can spark many emotions that may rise. We are all humans who are allowed to feel their feelings even if they don’t look the same. Navigating a break from everything you are used to can be challenging.
If you are struggling but are beating yourself up because you ‘shouldn’t’ feel this way…. I feel you, I see you and I am with you.