Holidays are just regular life, in an unfamiliar place
And how we really need a holiday to recover from the holiday, all while being super grateful we got to go on holiday. Also the value of struggle.
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We were away on holiday the past five days.
We live in Thailand, where it’s fairly easy and affordable to jump on a boat or plane (or both) to an island for a few days.
The word “jump” though, conjures up an image of us gathering a few belongings and leaping over to an island, all cheerful and spur of the moment and light.
Of course that’s not what we do at all.
The thing about holidays with children, is that they aren’t actually holidays. I think the not-holidayness of holidays is amplified when you have children who are neurodivergent, or have complex needs. And maybe when you yourself are neurodivergent too. Or have any sort of challenge that follows you wherever you go - the sort you can’t really leave at home.
Holidays can be a special kind of hell, at times.
I think it’s hard to imagine if you are a family of mostly chilled out, neurotypical-ish people.
We are not, though.
I don’t love to share personal details about my children and husband, but I can tell you about me. I am not a chilled out person. I’m easily overwhelmed by too much happening, I like to know what’s coming and I try super hard to be easygoing when things inevitably go wrong, but it involved a lot of prep and accommodation. Air travel can feel stressful because of the flying in a giant metal tube in the sky element; boat travel can feel even more stressful, because I get sea sick and also I would just rather swim than be trapped in a floating box, bobbing around and tilting every which way. All I can think of is, These life jackets are not going to save us.
I love my home, and I don’t adjust easily to somewhere else. Different food, different smells, different everything.
All of that said, I’m 42 years old and I have moved and travelled a lot. I love the beach and the sea. I can manage all of the above, knowing I’ll be floating over a coral reef soon enough. I have learned to laugh at myself (most of the time), to pace myself, to build in quiet time, and also to find a place for spontaneity. I can absolutely pretend like I’m actually quite a cool, calm person - and sometimes I am! - but anyone who knows we knows there is a lot of effort involved.
The issue is that it’s not just me on holiday (and trust me, me is often enough for it to not be chill). There is a husband, and two very different children, and we all have needs and wants and challenges.
Sometimes it feels like holidays are peak struggle. It feels like all of the things - anxiety, overwhelm, resentment, grumpiness, whatever - it’s all out there, because we’re just the same people in a different place! And often the place is not conducive to us all being our best selves.
The days leading up to holidays can be hard. There is resistance from some of us. There is rushing and gathering things and packing and worrying.
The traveling is always hell, because nobody is easygoing at all. People need things NOW. People can’t handle transitions - not gracefully, anyway. People are hungry or need the toilet at the worst possible moments. People blow up at the tiniest thing.
I feel like I have to hold it all together for everyone else, and that can be hard and sometimes impossible.
Sometimes we get there, and everyone is into it. And sometimes we get there, and people are grumpy and demand-avoidant and there is a lot of arguing about what to do, when to do it, how long to be there, whether this was what they expected, and so on.
In a way, it makes no sense that holidays are about relaxing.
If you wanted to relax, you’d just stay home. Call in sick from your work, or take some leave, and literally just stay home. Everybody would read and watch Netflix and sit around all day and that would be relaxing. Right?
Taking a car, plane, bus and boat to an island you’ve never been to, and figuring out what to do and how to do it for 4 days, was never going to be relaxing!
Also, in general, I’m resistant to the idea of ease. I’ve given up on seeking ease in everything I do and in life in general. Ease is a myth. Ease is a privilege and I’m not even sure anyone holds it.
And frankly, ease itself is sometimes not that easy - it can feel stressful or boring or depressing in itself!
I am much more enamored with the idea of collective, meaningful struggle. That struggle is a part of life, that it’s really most of life. That it doesn’t always have to be a negative thing, or something we’re struggling AGAINST. But that struggle is sort of like a state of intentional effortfulness. Does that make sense?
When I say struggle I don’t mean the struggle to stay alive. Of course I don’t think anyone should have to fight for their right to life or freedom or health or basic needs. I just mean that when I know things are going to be a teeny bit of a struggle (or a lot of a struggle), I am better prepared, I feel more in control and I generally do better. This might partially be about low expectations, but I think it’s also about realism, and recognizing that life is uncomfortable most of the time, and that ease and comfort are glorious because they are fleeting.
The internet is torn about struggle. Some see it as good, some as inevitable, some as pointless. There’s a lot of duscussion about whether it’s good or bad, and for me it’s not really about that, because it just is. It’s a fact of life that life is not easy, and was evolutionarily not meant to be easy. We could pretend this isn’t the truth and that we should all be living a life of ease, or we can embrace the idea that a lot of life as living beings, as well as life under the systems we find ourselves in, is tough.
Does it mean we don’t want to make it better? No, not at all. Of course we do. Of course we deserve accommodations, and social change, and everything in between.
There is manageable tough, and then there is tough that discriminates and erases, tough that makes things virtually impossible for some, and a whole lot easier for others.
I am talking about manageable tough. The sort of average tough that is just a daily part of living.
For me, it simply means that I don’t lament the consistent lack of ease. I don’t see or expect ease anywhere, much. And where I do see it, I often wonder who is really enabling that ease. Who is bearing the brunt of how easy it is for me to order take-out? Who is allowing me to buy cheap clothing? Who has a ton of free time, and how is that possible (in other words, who is doing the daily work instead)? Who and what makes it easier for me to find work, or go on holiday, than somebody else?
Struggle and ease are enabled by the narratives, systems and societies we exist inside of. A lot of what allows me to find ease, also creates struggle for others.
Perhaps we need to be more aware of the idea that ease and struggle are interrelated. That we can’t have one without the other, and that when we end up in places where it all feels like too much - there might be a broader, systemic reason for it.
We are back home now, and taking a day to recover from the holiday. Because that’s the other thing isn’t it? We always need to recoup after a break. Because the break is simply not an actual break, and perhaps we should stop calling it that!
I also want to add that I recognise going away on holiday is not an option for many. And traveling is not an option. I am always aware we are lucky to be able to move around, even while I recognise that a lot of our traveling happens because it has to happen (for work, because our families are on different continents), and that too, sometimes feels hard.
Ultimately, the holiday was worth it. We got to enjoy beautiful sea. The kids played on the beach. There were moments of ease, for sure! (Mostly facilitated by sea, sand and ipads.) We got to see a new place, experience novelty, even if that can be harder than staying home at times. Some moments truly felt like a struggle, but it was a struggle we chose; and others did not.
I’m sharing some resources about Neurodiversity and neurodivergence below. I’ve been expanding my understanding beyond social media posts, and I highly encourage everyone else to as well! Big thanks to
for some of these recommendations, as well as so many others that I’ve chatted to about these topics.A list of essays by Dr Nick Walker, really worth reading.
I’m really enjoying
work on neurodivergence, and how she looks at it through an intersectional, decolonial lens. This is a great piece.
And this podcast on Killing the executive in your head is so, so good.
(Devon Price) is always so spot on. I loved his book Unmasking Autism (and am excited about his upcoming book on shame!), and more recently this piece about why self-identification is the future of autism and why his disability is manufactured.I recently finished We are all neurodiverse by Sonny Jane Wise. Highly recommend it. It is an intersectional, anti-capitalism look at the Neurodiversity Paradigm and at neurodivergence. We need more of this.
This piece about screens and autistic kids by Zoe Williams is what I needed to read.
I took
webinar on anxiety in autistic children (which can apply to all children, actually) and it was really good. I highly recommend her webinars - they are informative and relatively affordable. Also re-reading bits of her book, A Different Way to Learn. speaks to what it feels like to parent a ND child as a ND person.. none of the parenting books prepare you for this.
If you have an recent pieces or books you’ve read on these topics, I’d love to know!
I can’t say that neurodiversity is an area I spend a whole lot of time on, but I’m in a phase of trying to figure out where I sit within all of this, and how I can support my children.
Thank you for reading!
Fran x
Most of my family is in California. One sister lives in England, so she had to travel a lot with her young family. She once said, “A holiday with kids is not a holiday. It's just more work in a different place.” 😁
I am currently on vacation with my two children and my parents and am really feeling this: “I feel like I have to hold it all together for everyone else, and that can be hard and sometimes impossible.”
For me, the struggle is not worth the vacation, but everyone else in my family loves this vacation (possibly because I’m running myself ragged handling everything) and I don’t want to ruin it for them. (This is our fifth time taking the same vacation). Now that my children are elementary age, I’m trying to figure out how to transition our vacations to where the struggle and the enjoyment are more evenly shared.