I’m now at the tail end of a two-week vacation from my job. It’s been mostly a stay-cation, with a few day trips to find labyrinths and other assorted things. But it wasn’t always supposed to be this way. The original plan was that I would take a long, several day trip. I was going to fulfill an item on my bucket-list: to drive across the state of Pennsylvania along US-6, from Port Jervis, New York to the Ohio border.

I had a packing list made up. I had a shopping list made up. (That part was easy – when I travel alone for several days, I always buy a jar of peanut butter, a jar of strawberry jelly, a loaf of bread, a bunch of apples, and a pack of Oreos. And that’s my lunch and supper every day for the journey. I’m a cheap date.)

I worked for hours putting together an itinerary. There were landmarks and state parks and labyrinths I planned to stop at on the way. I figured it would take me about two or three days. I planned to leave on Tuesday morning, and I expected to get to somewhere around the Pine Creek Gorge by the end of the day. So on Monday morning, I sat at my computer looking for motels somewhere in that area, to book a room.

I found a motel that seemed okay, but as I was about to book a room, something inside me shifted, changed, cracked. And suddenly I didn’t want to go.

I just didn’t want to go. I felt really uncomfortable booking the motel room, I felt really uncomfortable leaving the next morning, I felt really uncomfortable being away at all for this.

I think this was a purely emotional response, because over the next few minutes, I found so many reasons not to go.

• I didn’t want to spend the money on motel rooms and gas. After all, I’d just bought a new computer, and I should be budget-conscious.
• I felt as though I didn’t deserve to go. I wasn’t worth spending this money on myself. Or being away from my family just as school was starting – I’d be more use at home.
• I have taken a lot of long drives lately. Not this long, certainly, but I’ve been out exploring. It hasn’t helped. How would this help?
• I was slowly, slowly learning during this vacation that I needed to change some things in my life, that I needed to take better care of myself. And while sometimes trips like this are good ways to take care of myself, somehow it felt different this time, like there were better, more helpful ways to spend my time.  
• It was forecast to be really hot during the days I’d be out. I didn’t want to be out walking through trails and woods in weather like this.

I have so often felt like I live in the push-pull between two voices, the Dark Voice of depression, and the Still, Small Voice of God. And in a strange way, I felt like both voices were telling me not to go on the trip. The Dark Voice was telling me that I didn’t deserve anything good that came from it, that I wasn’t worth the expense. That I should just stay home and let things be as they are. That I wasn’t going to change or grow no matter what I did, so why bother? Nothing matters anyway.

And the Still, Small Voice was telling me that I have been learning recently that I am at my best when I am with other people. That I would not benefit from being alone for three days as much as I would if I stayed home with my family. That I had some writing to do, to reach out to other people, and that I would have a better long-term experience that way. Because it does matter – it matters enough to wait on this trip, and use the rest of my vacation in a wiser fashion.

The Still, Small Voice wants me to be with other people, both in person and also through my writing. Because the Still, Small Voice knows that I am built to be in relationship with others, and when I pull away from them, I suffer. My health suffers. My mental health suffers. My spiritual health suffers.

The Dark Voice disagrees with that. He’s always trying to keep me isolated, to keep others “safe” from me. He thinks that life is simpler alone. That I’m protected from hurt, and that I protect others from the hurt I cause them. And when I listen to him, when I do that, it always leads to a feeling of apathy, a feeling that nothing matters, a feeling that there’s no point in anything.

And that’s where I was on Monday, being pulled by both sides telling me that I should stay home, for different reasons. I was at Does it matter? I had to decide if it does matter.

And if it does, then I needed to do two things with the week ahead: write and connect with people.

(Spoiler: That’s exactly what I’ve been doing. More on this tomorrow.)

Featured image by Frederic Willocq from Pixabay