The Defiance of Tactical Retreat

“In order to understand the world, one has to turn away from it on occasion."

Camus may have something there. For the past six weeks, I faced the world head on. I’ve painted and gardened and lifted and defiantly plowed forward. That was the right move, the necessary path. But now the walls are a lovely grey, my herb garden is flourishing, and my thighs no longer fit in my pants. My energy is depleted, and I feel my soul struggling. It may be time to take a step back, a brief hiatus from work to hear the message that seeps in only when I am at rest, admittedly a state of being that I usually avoid.

I’m taking a tactical retreat.

I rented a place at the beach for a month. That’s right, an entire month. It is extravagant and fiscally irresponsible. Self indulgent and enviable. It is also necessary. I am a water baby, a Pisces with an evolutionary bond to the ocean. On it’s rolling tides, I can hear the Universe. My ears work differently there.

There are many who have wholly supported this therapeutic decision, including my husband, who has an uncanny ability to preemptively provide the support my future self will need. There are also those who have passive aggressively dumped their jealousy, longing, and lack of personal gravitas in my lap. My response?

You can afford it. You absolutely deserve it. This is MY retreat; find your own.

This matters to me. I believe in its potential to restore my sanity as much as counseling, exercise, and girls' night combined, all things on which I readily spend money and time I sometimes don’t have. I am also the wife of a soldier, who does not believe in retreat, but relies on tactical maneuvering and values the time and energy required to properly prepare for the unforeseen.

This retreat, therefore, embodies both definitions of the word. It is equally an escape, a self aware acknowledgment of being overwhelmed, as well as a withdrawal, retiring to a quiet place for reflection. But it is not from a position of weakness that I take leave. On the contrary, I’ve rarely felt more right about a decision, more certain of its timeliness, more ready to get the hell outta here!

I’ve never been one to much care what others thought, or at least, it appears that way outwardly. Sometimes I am deeply affected, my own harshest fault-finder who internalizes the criticism of others. It may not change my behavior, but I ruminate on negative feedback, second guessing myself and wondering what whispers wander about me behind closed doors.

This is one time I truly do not give a shit.

I am retreating people. I’m going away. I’m taking some time for myself. I’m a grown ass woman, and I’m gonna go do me. Don’t come looking for me unless you’re ready to surrender.