Vacation Used to Add to My Burnout

I used to be afraid of vacation. Not in the “I don’t want to go anywhere” kind of way—but in the “this is way more stressful than it’s worth” kind of way. I was so good at not taking time off that my PTO would routinely get paid out. More than once. Enough that a supervisor sat me down and said, “We need to talk about this.”

It wasn’t because I didn’t need a break. It’s because taking one felt nearly impossible. There were so many reasons vacation felt overwhelming—logistical, emotional, and even cultural. I wasn’t good at vacation because I didn’t know how to rest. Here’s what I mean.

I Felt Like I Had to Do Everything Myself

Part of what made vacation hard was the thought of handing things off. I didn’t like asking people to cover my inbox. I didn’t feel like I had enough time to prepare for my absence in the way that felt safe or responsible. I lived in a mindset where being available was part of my identity. Stepping away—even briefly—felt like a disruption.

One specific incident still stands out: while I was out of office, someone did something I had clearly and explicitly asked them not to do. I had documented it, and it still happened. That one experience only deepened my discomfort with stepping away. It confirmed a fear I already carried—that things might fall apart without me.

Logistics Felt Overwhelming

The idea of vacation was appealing. The reality of it was exhausting. Especially during the toddler years, vacation planning felt like its own full-time job. How would we manage naps, food, meltdowns, flights, delays, packing, unpacking, repacking?

Even though we traveled as a family, the actual planning didn’t feel like a break—it felt like one more thing I had to manage. Standing in line at the baggage claim didn’t bring peace. It brought stress. Looking back, it’s easy to see: when your work life requires constant decision-making, going home and making even more decisions doesn’t exactly recharge you. It drains you more.

It’s why vacations that my mom planned for us always felt easier. I wasn’t carrying the mental load.

Vacation Came With Worry

I Was Afraid I’d Need the Time Later

There was a time in our life when I was always waiting for the next bad thing. A medical scare. A death in the family. Another round of illness. It wasn’t just anxiety—it was our reality.

My husband and I lost three of our four parents in just a few years. My youngest was the child always catching strep or something else. I was the kind of kid who was always sick, too—so I worried about that cycle repeating.

And in my organization, there was no distinction between sick days and vacation days. It was all one bucket. So if I used time for rest, would I have any left for an emergency? It felt irresponsible. Even though I never dipped below half of my available days, the fear was always there. That feeling wasn’t always rational, but it wasn’t completely untrue either. Still, it kept me from rest I desperately needed.

I Dreaded the Catch-Up

Even if I made it out the door, I knew what would be waiting when I returned.

The laundry. The empty fridge. The stack of mail. The moldy Tupperware in the back of the refrigerator. The unread emails and the patient care messages. The missed meetings, the follow-ups, the inbox triage.

People give good advice: “Schedule a day to catch up before returning to work.” That’s helpful in theory. But in practice? It’s still a lot. And when you’re already depleted, the reentry can feel more overwhelming than the time away was restorative.

What’s Changed—and What I’ve Learned

Despite all of that, I did take trips. Some were long weekends. Some were short getaways. I didn’t always unplug, and I sometimes still checked email or managed my inbox, even from the beach or a cabin or a hotel room.

But now, I do things differently. I plan longer trips—up to 10 days when possible, which seems to be our family’s sweet spot before the colds and coughs start rolling in. And I get antsy if I don’t have my next trip planned. In fact, I usually have two on the calendar at any time.

I’ve started treating rest as essential, not extra. Recovery is no longer the first thing to go—it’s nonnegotiable.

What changed? Some of it was our kids getting older. But a big part was learning how to actually rest. I used to skip the cool-down or stretch at the end of a workout. I used to push through lunch. I used to believe that productivity mattered more than pause. But I’ve had to re-learn that recovery is part of the process—whether it’s your career, your health, or your vacation habits.

What About You?

If vacation feels hard for you—why?

Is it logistics? Fear of burdening your coworkers? Worry you’ll fall behind? The cost of catching up?

I still believe short trips are better than no trips. I still believe memories matter even if they’re messy. But I also believe we have to practice rest. Especially when it doesn’t come easily.

So I’ll leave you with two questions:

What’s the hardest part of taking a vacation for you? And how many do you have planned?