Sometimes, we talk about needing a vacation the way we talk about needing more sleep. Don’t we? We know it’s true. We say it out loud. And then we keep going anyway.
We may have the idea that we need a vacation, but let’s look at why we need it and what it actually does for us. Because I don’t think it’s what most of us were taught to think. It’s not just rest. It’s not a reward for working hard enough. It’s not even really about the destination. It’s about what happens in your nervous system when you finally stop.
Here’s the science, stated simply. Most of us spend the majority of our daily lives running on our sympathetic nervous system. That’s the one designed for alertness, response, management, protection. It’s what keeps you on time, on task, and on top of everything that needs to be handled. It is also, when it never gets a break, exhausting in ways that sleep alone doesn’t fix.
And now, thanks to our devices and technology, we have proof of this. I have an Oura Ring, and every morning it gives me two numbers. My Sleep Score tells me how well I slept. My Readiness Score tells me what my body can handle today. You can sleep eight hours and still have a low Readiness Score, because hours in bed and true recovery are not the same thing. If my Readiness Score is low, the ring is telling me I need to pay attention: I’m not fully recovered and should take it easy. That’s not a suggestion most of us are used to following. But the data doesn’t lie. To be honest, some days I don’t follow the recommendations from my Oura device. I just keep going.
What we actually need, and what a real break can provide, is time in the parasympathetic state. That’s the recovery mode. The mode where the body repairs itself, where the mind consolidates and processes, where your heart rate variability improves, and your immune system gets to do its job. It’s the same system that’s active during deep, restorative sleep. And just like you can’t get better sleep by simply lying in bed longer, you can’t access parasympathetic rest by sitting down for twenty minutes. It requires a real shift in your environment and your demands.
That’s what a vacation does, if you let it.
And I want to share this up front with you because I think a lot of us talk ourselves out of it before we ever start: it does not have to be a big trip. It doesn’t have to be two weeks in Europe, though that would be lovely, wouldn’t it? It doesn’t have to involve a flight or money you don’t have. A long weekend somewhere quiet. One night away with your husband or a friend. Even a few days at home where you’ve genuinely unplugged from the usual structure. What matters is the shift, not the mileage.
I’ve heard women say, “We only went away for one night, but it felt like we’d been gone for a week.” That’s not an illusion. That’s the nervous system responding to a real change in environment and demand. Something in you recognized that the usual rules were suspended, and it exhaled. Think about when your kids were younger, and you went out for an evening or were lucky enough to have a grandparent take them overnight. In less than 24 hours, you came back a different person. Somewhere along the way, we forget that it can be just that simple and just that important.
For me, part of what makes a vacation restorative is what I bring intentionally. I always pack a journal, usually a small travel one I buy just for the trip. I write about the day, what we did, what I noticed, what I felt. It’s part log, part reflection, and it slows me down enough to be where I am. You come home from a trip thinking you just sat on the beach, then you read your journal and remember you did twelve things and felt it all.
I also always bring something to read or a few downloads for the flight. Books I’ve been meaning to get to. A genre I don’t usually let myself indulge in. There’s something about reading on vacation that feels different from reading at home, because at home there’s always something else I should be doing instead. Does anyone else feel guilty sitting down to read for an hour during the day? On vacation, reading is the thing. That permission alone is restorative.
And then there’s the thing that always surprises me, even though it happens every time. You pack for ten days and worry you don’t have enough. You get there and realize you’ve worn the same four things on rotation, and it was completely fine. At home, we accumulate more and more to satisfy a need that isn’t really about clothes. On a trip, you find out how little you actually need to feel like yourself. I encourage you to pay attention to that the next time you travel.
But the real change, the one that makes it all worth it, comes a day or two in. You have to let the processors slow down first. You have to stop mentally running through your to-do list and start actually looking at where you are. And then at some point you’re standing somewhere, looking at water or mountains or a street you’ve never walked before, and you take a breath that feels different. For me, in that moment, I am usually completely overcome with gratitude. For the opportunity to be wherever I am. For the people I’m with. For the reminder to actually enjoy it.
That’s the parasympathetic system finally getting its turn.
In that state, things become clear that couldn’t be heard over the noise of ordinary life. The chatter in our minds not only quiets down but also slows down, and when it does, it creates space for thoughts we haven’t had time to think in a long time. Women in transition especially know this. The questions you’ve been avoiding suddenly have room. It’s as if the answers were waiting all along, and finally it’s quiet enough to hear them. Who am I becoming? What do I actually want? What have I been doing that I don’t have to do anymore?
So the next time you get away, whether it’s one night or two weeks, pay attention to what’s happening in your body, not just your mood. If you wear any kind of monitoring device, check your numbers. Notice your resting heart rate. Notice your Readiness Score. Notice whether you’re recovering differently when the demands of ordinary life fall away. And even if you don’t track any of that, notice how you’re thinking. Notice whether the questions you’ve been too busy to ask yourself suddenly have room to surface. That’s not a coincidence. That’s your nervous system finally getting what it needed.
A vacation is not just a break from your life. It is a biological reset. And your body has been waiting for it.
That alone is worth the trip.
Talk to you next Monday,
Meryl.
