For the past weeks, I took a long vacation in Maui, Hawaii. I go to the same place on the island because it’s familiar and that makes it easy. I know what pans are in the condo cupboards, where the best grocery store is, and the way to my most favorite walks. And of course, it’s breathtakingly beautiful as you can see in the picture from my lanai (porch).

As soon as I stepped out of the rental car, I felt myself sink into the space of warm air, rustling palm trees, cooing of doves, and the gentle sound of waves. Covid didn’t change any of Maui’s beauty but I could see relief in the eyes of the locals as visitors reignite work and restore regular income after a year of complete closure for many businesses.

Just before I left home, Adam Grant published an article in The New York Times on a feeling he was observing in himself and others called languishing. He writes, “It wasn’t burnout–we still had energy. It wasn’t depression–we didn’t feel hopeless. We just felt somewhat joyless and aimless. It turns out that there’s a name for that: languishing. Languishing is a sense of stagnation and emptiness. It feels as if you’re muddling through your days, looking at your life through a foggy windshield. And it might be the dominant emotion of 2021”.

This word, languishing, was the very description of my first days on vacation. For me, I would add “bone tired” and “overwhelmed with the smallest of problems”. I was actually surprised at my condition, because I thought I had gone through the last year pretty darn well. But I realize that languishing is a sneaky condition, and while I did do the crisis well, it took all of my energy and fuel to do that work. When our threat detection system is on high-alert, 24/7, for over a year, it makes sense that we could function but then collapse when the adrenalin fades as we move away from the threat.  

After a few frustrating days of what I thought I should be doing on vacation, I wrote some wise counsel to myself in my journal, “I give you permission to live by the sea and be away from your responsibilities. Take the weight off your shoulders. Put away your endless expectations and “shoulds”. Try to just live moments. Do what you enjoy…nothing else. Open your heart to listen and learn. Rest up. Fill your emotional fuel tank.” 

So, I did just that. I actually asked myself daily, “Where is the arrow on my fuel gauge?”. And each day, with lots of walks, books, naps, good food, and good company, my emotional wellness tank was filled. I knew it was filling up because I could sit still comfortably. I was patient. I could concentrate on what I was reading. I could listen carefully. I laughed. 

May is Mental Health Awareness month. While we’ve all experienced a massive crisis and experts report a significant increase in anxiety and depression, I believe those problems were on the rise before Covid. With relentless focus on the exterior–our appearance, our busyness and productivity, our status and income, it’s so easy to neglect the interior work–peace of mind, gratitude, contentment, and making time to rest and relax, not just collapse. 

When was the last time you had a full emotional fuel tank? Do you know what it even feels like? This year, we need to find intentional time to rest and recover from the strain of the last year. 

Find your time and place, your Maui, that cradles you with care and then gently tell yourself, “I give you permission to be away from your responsibilities. Take the weight off your shoulders. Put away your endless expectations and “shoulds”. Try to just live moments. Do what you enjoy…nothing else. Open your heart to listen and learn. Rest up. Fill your emotional fuel tank.”