Seventy Two and Sunny

I am trying to let myself be free.

Trying to give myself permission

to get in the car and drive seven hours to Florida.

It’s supposed to be in the seventies there this weekend.

So, it seems like a nice time to go.

Before the crowds come

and before spring break.

But, I’m hesitating.

It’s absurd, really.

There is not one good reason for me not to go.

There is nothing keeping me here.

No job.

No kids.

No dog that has to be fed.

And yet, I can’t seem to make myself go.

So then, being the overly analytical person that I am,

I start asking myself questions -

What’s really going on?

Do I not deserve it?

Am I unworthy?

After fifteen minutes of doing this,

and a cup of green tea, 

I conclude that some part of me must think that I am.

Yes, that's it, 

I don’t deserve to have a good time.

But that’s crazy,

utterly crazy.

If it were someone else,

some friend who asked me if they should go,

I would tell them to go in a second.

Take a few days off.
Enjoy yourself.

Walk on the beach.
Feel the sand on your toes

and the sun on your back.

Relax.

But it's not me talking to some friend,

it's me talking to me.

And I am no friend of mine. 

Relax?

I haven't relaxed in years.

I don’t know how to relax

or enjoy myself.

While normal people start packing and looking for sun block

when they are about to go on a trip,

I start making a mental laundry list of

all the things that could go wrong:

I won’t like the bed.

I won’t like the food.

Someone will bother me.

There will be noisy neighbors.

It will be too cold.

It will be foggy.

I’ll step on a jellyfish.

I’ll get in a wreck.

I’ll get a speeding ticket.

I’ll get food poisoning.

I’ll trip on a conch shell.

I’ll get eaten by a shark.

I’ll feel like I made a mistake.

And then it hits me.

"Feel like I've made a mistake."

I know that one. 

I always feel like I made a mistake.

I might as well feel that way

sitting on the beach where it's 

seventy two and sunny.