It’s story time today.
Ten years ago this May.
I don’t want to write about this. And definitely not in the mood to go into all the details.
So. Ignoring the mechanisms, the how and why of my world falling apart, some relevant pieces:
In May of ten-years-ago my husband and I left our Tel Aviv apartment that I loved so much. Maybe even more than I’d realized, in retrospect. Oh, retrospect, you are always so late.
His parents had given us a flat they owned in the suburbs. Next door to them.
Except it was still being renovated, and I was working in the city.
My shifts at the bar ended late — too late for buses. And a cab out of town would eat up all my earnings.
My husband stayed at his parents in the suburb. And I stayed on various couches of girlfriends in Tel Aviv.
Time is funny.
It was supposed to be just for a month. We’d see each other weekends and in between my shifts at work.
We didn’t. Not really. Renovations took longer. My best friend went to London and I house-sat for a while, then took care of her ex-girlfriend who was going through a rough patch.
Three months.
I went to the States for a visit. Stayed with a girlfriend in Chicago. Went on a road trip. Place, perspective. Breathing room.
Four months.
Timing is timing.
I was scheduled to fly out of Chicago on September 12.
This was 2001, so September 11 meant there was no September 12. At least, not in any way that mattered.
Flights were canceled. Flights to Israel were canceled for even longer.
Another month.
Six months into seven.
Eventually I came back. The marriage, unsurprisingly, came apart. It was agreed that I would move out.
A friend of a friend was moving to Sweden. I could rent her apartment.
She changed her mind about if and when so many times that I lost count.
I stayed on more couches.
By the time I moved in, it was almost December. Seven months of couch-sleeping. Of not knowing when or where — or if at all — there would be home for me.
Why this.
This six month period is by no means the hardest or the shittiest thing that has happened to me.
It hurts to say: this doesn’t even make the top ten.
But that doesn’t mean this time wasn’t terrifying and painful, because it was.
And sometimes I talk to me-from-then. I invent vacations for her. I put her up in hotels and buy her books. I take care of her. It’s what I do.
Why now.
I have trouble taking time off. I have trouble stopping.
Until it’s an emergency, and Emergency Vacation is declared.
This is a known thing.
But to every absolute declarative “this is how things are” truth, there is always an exception. And here it is:
While I personally may be terrible at creating refuge for myself now, there is a version of me who knows how to stop.
It’s the me who invents vacations for past versions of myself.
Look at all the things I have trouble giving to me-in-the-present:
Time, space, money, attention, caring, forgiveness, comfort, reassurance, appreciation, protection.
And yet all of these I gladly give to me-who-went-through-all-that-crap.
Bless the loophole.
Yesterday, I took myself away on a holiday.
I took me-from-now and me-from-ten-years-ago, and we went on a little self-rescue mission.
We booked a gorgeous hotel room. We packed an overflowing picnic basket. Books and magazines. Slippers. An appointment for a facial.
Normally I would never do this for myself. But it’s okay, because I’m taking care of her. I’m taking care of her by showing her that now I can take care of myself.
She knows what I’m doing, me-from-then.
She knows this is my way of easing into being the person who can take care of herself in the moment and not just after the fact.
She’s happy for me.
And I am happy for her.
Very specific comment blanket fort zen for today.
This is really, really vulnerable stuff I’m writing about. It’s hard to do.
What is welcome.
Your stories.
The versions of you who are in need of a Retroactive Emergency Vacation, whether you literally might go on one or not.
Spaciousness. Warmth. A glass of wine or a cup of tea.
What I am not okay with:
Not that you would do this, of course, but just to have said itā¦
I do not wish to be told what to do, psychoanalyzed, judged, given advice or given that thing which is called tough love but is not loving in practice.
I do not want to be told that I shouldn’t be posting here if I’m on vacation, or that I need to learn to take time off.
Thank you.
Happy Retroactive Emergency Vacation to me. And to all of your various verisons-of-you who need one too. Hug.
Follow
I didn’t know I needed to read this right now, but I did. Thank you for sharing it.
Happy Retroactive Emergency Vacation to you, Havi. I’m not sure what exactly this has touched in me, but the tears are evidence that it has touched something, and I’ll be taking the time to have some conversations with myself and find out what.
Thank you.
Perhaps there was something in the air, that early September 2001? I have an old self who is like this: in incredible pain, and incredibly alone. In the heat. With no money. With no self forgiveness. With no goal or motivation; with some abstract horrible plans to fly to London to visit a bad idea on September 17.
It didn’t happen. And things got worse, for many, many reasons.
Things I would show that self now: how despite all the awfulness, there will come a time when I will very sincerely miss that particular nearby park, and remember very clearly that denim skirt, and that I love her so much, despite all the awful times we went through during that season. I would show her that the mourning that seemed to be about London wasn’t; that there are far more tasty things in the world than crackers and cold marinara from a jar.
I might fly her back to Oregon so she could visit the important people when it mattered.
I might take her to a quietly luxurious hotel and feed her a nourishing meal, to remember what that’s like and to think about life in general not from within the bunker of fear, but from the vista of possibilities.
And I would give her a giant bucket of cash, I think. It would help, at least temporarily.
xo Havi. Thank you for sharing this and reminding me of my own past self who needs this kind of pampering, too.
Oh, sweet Havi, happy emergency vacation to you! And hooray for taking such good care of you-from-now and you-from-then!
Sending wishes for a truly beautiful holiday. And healing rest, nurturance, comfort, ease and play.
Love, Hiro
What a lovely, gentle, respectful retroactive Emergency vacation – gorgeous.
What an idea too! I am very inspired. Not necessarily to go on a retroactive holiday but to visit a very specific me-from-the-past and just chat. No problem solving, healing or any other stuff – just a chat to find out where she’s at, because it seems remarkably relevant to where me-from-now is at right now.
Lots and lots love.
Wow this is such an interesting lens for me right now… In the last week I took some very difficult and tender steps to take care of myself.
And I was noticing for the first time ever (in 50 yrs!) I was able to FEEL cared for and not resentful,
(my past approach was: “I can’t believe I have to do this for myself, why isn’t anyone taking care of ME!!!”)
And what your story is shedding light on for me is the way in which there are past selves (Past Pearl’s –PP’s? maybe not!)that are grateful to me for doing this with love rather than resentment so there is a deep sense of caring that goes beyond the present moment.
thank you.
SO MANY HUGS. And blankets and tea and a tiny super-soft hedgehog plushie named Rug. And wishes for the best vacation ever – until the next one, anyways. š
There is a me who lived in a crappy little apartment in St. Louis, with a roommate that she had once thought was her best friend. She lived there for a year. She rarely left her room, and when she did it was only to make the quick dash for the door to get out of the apartment. She did not trust her roommate, and did not feel safe. Her roommate would invite drug addicts and strangers of questionable background into their home. That me felt scared and lonely and disrespected.
I want to take her some place safe and comfortable. I also want to buy her a good, sturdy lock for her door. Noise-proof insulation for her walls. And a big, fierce, protective dog who loves her unconditionally, and will defend her unquestioningly, and who can tell good people from bad people, the way that dogs do.
Sending so much love and compassion for you-from-before and you-in-the-now. What hard circumstances those were.
I need my own Emergency Vacation right now — and there’s a spa nearby that charges $25 for 24 hours of spa goodness (okay, not counting the massage I would also sign up for, but hey!), and this is inspiring me to find a day in which I can run away and soak in hot water until I’m done.
I have so much trouble with this, because the There’s Never Enough Time monster tends to sit right inside my ear, and the idea of spending a whole day sitting in hot water is Just Not Okay.
Off to converse with monsters.
Tears here, too.
Don’t know what times of me (besides now-me) are feeling cared for by your care for your now-and-then you’s, but I’m receiving it and it’s just lovely. Thank you.
You are just one of the neatest people I’ve ever [Internet] met. Thank you for what you taught me today.
Have a lovely vacation!
This piece rocks for me. I just gave myself a non-emergency, emergency vacation – to Portland! – to heal some sadness that’s built up over the past 5(ish) years. Me from then feels happier, though there’s still sadness & anxiety leftover from then . . . because the emergency was THEN, not as much now. And THEN, I had no idea how to heal, what to do, how to have a loving conversation with myself, and it still hurts.
Worse, my body was communicating with me, and I didn’t hear. I couldn’t translate.
Thank you for this, Havi – it feels like a gift, like a much-needed part of coming full circle. I love when you write stuff that feels so common sensical to me that I can’t believe I haven’t stumbled on this before in my own journaling . . . and it completely leads me to exciting, juicy places I need to explore.
My own story feels too vulnerable to talk about here, so I will just say thank you for the gorgeous inspiration to journaling.
Hugs all around.
Jessica
such big hugs. such big hugs that will have to wait a couple weeks, but I’ll imagine them now now anyway. thank you for sharing this.
for the me that went years trying to be someone else, and hurting so badly because of that…i want to flaunt the “me” of now. the me that is me…really. i want to tell the past me that it all worked out, and that the pain wasn’t wasted, the pain led to a place of joy and confidence and self-expression. and photography and guilt free relationships and sleeping in & pancakes on sundays and skinny dipping and accidental furry-convention birthday parties and independence and life.
I am still in the middle of one of the top ten suck things ever (please let this be one of the top ten because 4+ years, OMG), so maybe future me could take current me on a Retroactive Emergency Vacation sometime in the future. There could be breakfast in bed and soft slippers and a massage and maybe just sitting on the beach under an umbrella and watching the waves roll in.
My mom recently shared a story with me, from when my sister and I were kids; she noticed a pattern with us kids, of not really paying attention to her until she hit the point of Super Angry Mom. But of course, she didn’t like being Super Angry Mom… so she started pretending to be Super Angry Mom, before she actually got to that point. So she would pretend, us kids would be good, and she never actually had to be Super Angry.
Your post made me think about her pretending to be Super Angry, and now I’m wondering what might happen if I were to take a pre-emptive Emergency Vacation? What would it feel like to notice the oncoming burn-out, and to take Emergency Vacation as though I were already in crisis… but without ever actually reaching crisis?
Thinking this may be a thought to ponder more… š
@Heidi: i like your story, a lot.
Tears here too. Not entirely sure why .. I am inspired to journal and see. Thank you for the lovely inspiration – and Happy Retroactive Emergency Vacation to you!
This was beautiful. Thank-you for such open, honest, & raw writing. I love the idea of a retroactive emergency vacation for my old self. I love the idea of not being sad when i look back at the things I put her through, or she was put through, but instead to offer he kindness and love and let her know as you said, “Iām taking care of her by showing her that now I can take care of myself”.
You’ve moved me. Thank-you.
Patsy.
*hugs* and *pixie dusting*
Happy Retro-emergency Vacation Havi.
Its good to make time for yourself. xx
Seconding the “this touched someplace deep and I don’t know why” comment. But somehow, it feels like I needed to hear this. And if I did, I’m glad it came from you.
Happy Retroactive Emergency Vacation, Havi.
Oh, sweet mercy. I just did this. But I didn’t know what to call it. Crawled out from under this mountain of work and responsibility, pretended it was early last night- before I melted down after a snarky email from a colleague. I scheduled a massage and ate a doughnut. Last-night-me appreciated the massage, right-now-me is loving this jellystick and reading time. I’ll be better tomorrow because of it.
Thanks for this.
Beautiful so beautifully written
I have nothing smart to say but i needed to say this is beautiful for its openness and honesty and this is what i love about your writing – it shows me there is a way to share vulnerability in writing – there is a safe way to share this kind of writing (the writing i keep to myself still).
and if it’s not safe one day you will make it safe again the next day. because that’s just how strong you are or have become after so many experiences and living this life the most open and honest way. “One way or the other, things will be ok” (this is the message I find between the lines)
i hope this comment is ok
its an elaborate way to say thank you thank you for this blog, for the sharing and the words and with it – the knowing i am (we are) not alone – us hypersensitive feeling-too-much writing people can find ways to experience all the fullness of this life, (even the pain and the rawness), and feel safe too.
Did I tell you I have a VPA & Methaphor Mouse book ?
I just filled up the first one (it’s a Moleskin, the limited Woodstock edition)
Over the past year, I have been starting a group for (mostly foreign)(mostly very lost) phd students in my city – and I am totally building it on your ideas. The culture is the most important. The culture is a container that is filled with good things. The right people will find you.
Thank you thank you!
Hannah
@Havi, this is so helpful.
Thank you for sharing.
xoxo and a lovely cup of tea.
@Wormy, just chatting with me-from-the-past, what a great idea! Actually there are several different me’s from several different pasts. Maybe we could all have tea together.
Thank-You.
Lovely, lovely, and happy REV day to “you” both. This is wonderful.
I got myself a gift today — joined Cairene’s Incubator, which has been a Gwish/VPA of mine. It isn’t fuzzy slippers, but reading her workbook and realizing I’m putting the how of my life in a better light feels like the start of taking care of myself better. I hope to have hotel and a soft, luxurious nap in my future, but it’s funny that I’m still getting what I need and what is making me happy.
How incredibly unfair that situation was. There was no way you could win in it. It reminds me of when my parents paid for piano lessons but the piano in the house had a broken middle C key. It took me years to realize that I was not all of that problem.
Here’s wishing for all the things that you then and now deserve. And happiness that you are giving this to yourself.
I know this was hard to share but it is such a helpful concept. Thank you.
Tking care of Me from then helps so much. It truly is emotional genius. I intend to do this for me from then.
And then i remembered moments from Back Then in the hell-time, and remember random moments of spaciousness, rescue, grace, someone reaching into my isolation safely, agency and planning for liberation. And I feel a circle completing.
I love that you’re posting from a nice hotel, Havi. LOVE it.
The thought of you (x2) with snacks and magazines and slippers makes my eyes a tiny bit watery with happiness. Have fun! xo
I’ve been thinking about this post all day, and I came back to say how honored I feel that you shared this with us. Thank you.
You are fractal flowering into the past! Beautiful.
I think I’ve done this a tiny bit, sometimes.
Every time I find where I am, and remember where I was, and am glad I’m not me-then, but glad that me-then can be here-now. This way.
Oh – wait – it’s the other way round, doing it in ‘aaaah’ rather than ‘owwwww’. But – yes. Still.
Happy Retroactive Emergency Vacation to you, Havi. ~hugs~
I have recently discovered the abject pleasure of taking short, much needed vacations alone. Usually I stay at small country inns in the mountains. Sometimes I sit by the fire and chat with the other guests, sometimes I hide in my room with the heat up and a glass of wine and a Danielle Steele novel. Most times I’m tramping in the woods and snow during the day.
Each time I am so so happy, even though I live alone and love where I live – I also love being somewhere else alone and loving it and having someone else make me breakfast (although I travel with my coffee maker.)
Your vacation sounds heavenly!
Havi – thank you for writing this. It’s a good reminder to me that I need to take time to care for myself. Thanks.
Havi, thank you. I love this idea.
Your story and some of the others remind me of things.
A few year ago, overwhelmed and unable to really get away, I took a day and a train trip, spent six hours in a city that is three hours away, at a favorite museum, had lunch at its incredible restaurant, and went back home. I called a friend back home and told her I had run away.
Another time, my sister and I both needed a vacation and neither of us could leave because of family responsibilities that are still overwhelming to think about, so we took a virtual cruise. Finding the itinerary of a real cruise on the internet, we researched the ports of call, got photos from magazines and the internet, and made up stories about what happened on the cruise. We made up people and relationships — she’s single so she had a shipboard romance — It is still great fun to remember, and I have a scrapbook of our adventure.
This turned out to be a way to make up for adventures I didn’t get to have.
The family responsibilities are still pretty overwhelming for both of us: our aging mother, our two mentally ill sons (hers is a teenager, mine is older), and my husband who has 22 “active” diagnoses (he’s very sick). Oh, and my best friend who has stage 4 breast cancer.
Thinking about your retroactive emergency vacation, about the great feeling of freedom that I had that day that I ran away, and how much fun I had on that cruise, I’m ready for another creative escape. Maybe I’ll take a day away, research a vacation, get the resources (pictures, magazines, etc) and start inventing another cruise, or maybe a safari, or maybe I’ll hitchhike around Europe with my 20-year-old self.
Hugs to you, Havi, and to the rest of you who commented and to those who read and think about this post.
I have a box of teas to choose from: english breakfast, irish breakfast, earl grey, lady grey, chamomile, rooibos and vanilla, peppermint, jasmine green or rosehip. (Also this is a magic box of tea and you can change any of them to whatever you want!)
I’m sure your swish hotel has a delicious wine list too. Probably to be enjoyed in a hot bubble bath.
EnJOY!!
PS: I think I am on Emergency Vacation as we speak because Future-Me that has taken me there in her head. I am a memory being revisited and taken care of. I am happy that Me-from-the-Future is taking care of Me-from-Her-Past like this. I don’t know how she is in a position to do so but seeing as she is it must be all for the best.
Um, that totally only makes sense to me. I dig quantum.
Thank you for posting. I know how hard it is to talk about these sorts of things.
I could use a holiday right now. I just turned 21 yesterday, and I feel completely mixed and all over the place. I keep getting that attitude from people about being too young to have “proper problems”, so, may I ask, what counts as one of these proper problems? Being sick all the time? Dealing with anxiety and depression? Feeling stressed about where you’re going with your life? And dealing with a load if medication side-effects?
Well, check, check, and checkity check.
So your description of your emergency holiday made my heart sing. I want books to read, magazines to pour over, tea of all kinds, and I want Winter. (I live in Australia and we’re just getting through our longest heatwave on record. Autumn was supposed to start two days ago!)
Most of all I want space and time to think, to figure out myself and to get through to haze of medication ouchs.
Wow, that was a bit of a ramble. But let me just send many hugs and loves your way, Havi, and wish you a relaxing and lovely time. <3
crying so very hard
not knowing why
not caring really
the sobs so real and good
then reading comments
and seeing . . .
oh, my little girl
would just like me
to take care of myself
now, and her, too.
she would feel better
if I would take care of
now-me.
we could do it together.
except me-from-now
needs to be in charge
so little-me can be little.
thanks, havi
much love.
Wishing you a comfy seat by the fire, a warm blanket, a great book and a cup of tea. Your vacation sounds delightful, well done!
I love this ! I had 35 straight years of doing doing doing until I became ill. I like the idea of all the time off as something I’m doing for my former self.
@ClaireP , that’s what I was talking about too, definitely digging the quantum with you š
How _______ is that? (I can’t think of the right word.)
10 years ago in February, my husband and I arrived on the kibbutz.
10 years ago in July, my husband and I left the kibbutz, separately, for very valid reasons, but basically our marriage finally unravelled.
On September 9, 2001, I asked for a divorce. He agreed.
On September 11, 2001, well, you know.
The divorce was final in January of the following year and I made aliyah in Febrary.
Two ships passing though the same waters. I take my hat off to you, Pirate Queen. We made it. I wish you a safe journey and calm waters. š
Jenny: Thanks for that wonderful analogy of the middle C; we had a coupleof those in my house too, and it helps me to remember that my parents didn’t play piano and so didn’t know.
Havi: Havi-then-and-now, me-then-and-now is sending huge warm hugs to us all. All of us. And letting all of us mourn for lost flats, favorite parks, and first loves and painful marriages.
HUGE SQUEEZEY HUGS TO EVERYONE!
I need to take care of Adolescent Beth, the one who was basically told that her mother did not love or like her. It was and is untrue, and AB kind of knew it but couldn’t say it. Those words were spoken from someone who was (perhaps unknowingly) trying to isolate her. He was jealous and hurt and possessive and manipulative. I can’t know if he meant to be or ever realized what he was doing. But he did it. And it serves nothing to hate him or try and get revenge now.
But AB needs to be told – repeatedly – that she was and is loved. By an amazing and gentle and kind mom. And she needs to be comforted and do the things that AB would have LOVED to do with her mom. She needs to bake goodies and get manicures and smell candles and dance to 80s music and watch a VERY GIRLY movie. This is her Emergency RetroActive Vacation. And it’s happening Saturday, dammit!
love love love love love to all of you.
I offer you tea, in a beautiful mug, and so much love.
I am coming to the conclusion that spaciousness is absolutely essential. Somewhere in between the version of me that scurries around on the edge of perfectionistic panic, and the version of me that hides in caves because the scurrying feels abhorrent, there is a version of me who knows how to walk a different path.
Thank you, Havi, for creating a space in which all of my selves feel so welcome and wanted.
Simply beautiful.
I’m getting better and better about caring for myself in the moment. It’s hard, but like many things it gets easier for me with practice.
I have to do a LOT of going back and giving lots of tenderness and care for my previous self.
Thank you as always for sharing these tender stories. At least for me, it’s so helpful to know I’m not alone. š
Hugs,
Danielle
Dear Havi,
Thank you for this post, for being so open and honest, and for sharing so much of yourself (of her back then and you right now). If I wasn’t at work I think I would be in tears.
Thank you…and to more retroactive emergency vacations for everyone (I think they are needed)…
Samantha
Bless the loop hole, indeed. Here’s to a wonderful retroactive emergency vacation for both of You.
Hug! I’m tearing up here.