As I sit in my room reflecting on the vacation I just came back from, a tiny tear is running down my cheek. I'm going to miss the place where I spent so much time the last few days--a place where I escaped from cares and responsibilities so I could focus on treating myself and loving life. As I sit in self pity my eyes fall upon the souvenirs I claimed while on my journey. Emotions flood over me as I begin to grieve the end of one of the most enjoyable few days I've had in a long time. As I begin to drown in feelings and memories, I realize that I have begun the five stages of unpacking.
Denial And Isolation
I begin by denying the reality of my situation. I leave the suitcase in the trunk of my car. I don't need anything in there--I will get it tomorrow. I sit down, turn the TV on and check my texts, email, snail mail (Victoria's Secret has a 30 percent off all Swim sale that ended two days ago) as I sip an iced coffee. Just because I'm not on a wonderful, stress-free vacation anymore doesn't mean my everyday life will be dull in comparison. I check my fish tank to make sure none of them have given up and gone to the Great Barrier Reef in the sky, then check the fridge to see that a two-week old pizza is still there. I keep away from others so I don't get distracted and maybe, if I will myself hard enough, I will unpack--tomorrow.
Anger
I start to develop this intense anger. Why did my trip have to end so soon and why don't I get to go on more trips? If I had only had more time, I could have had a real relationship with the cute guide running the whitewater rafting. Never mind that he was in a relationship with some model--that's irrelevant. On top of that, I'm mad at myself for just throwing everything into my bag before I left and I lash out at those who try to help me unpack. They blame me for letting my bag get messy and not unpacking sooner. Now I have to re-fold everything, and who knows what's clean and what's dirty. Do I have the energy to smell everything? Are those stains from Coney Island or from last year? The many questions leave my head spinning, and like Scarlett from "Gone With The Wind," I decide tomorrow is another day.
Bargaining
I begin to bargain with myself. I will unpack my carry-on today--it has been in the trunk for two days. After all, it has the essentials I need to begin the new work week. I find the shells I picked up at the beach and the bottle cap from the outpost store. I find a half-eaten chocolate bar that has turned to liquid and oozed on the souvenir toaster cozy I bought for my Nonna. I let out a slight scream of frustration. Maybe if I had unpacked sooner this wouldn't be so difficult. What if I had just stayed another week? I could have avoided all this unpacking, all this heartache. But it wouldn't really be avoiding because I'd still be on vacation!
My life sucks. I want to be back on vacation so bad. I'm hopeless. My bag is a mess; my room is a mess; my life is a mess. I don't even feel like unpacking anymore. I don't feel like doing anything. I'm upset that I fought against those who tried to help me. I'm sinking in a sea of stress and fine linen.
Acceptance
Okay, well, I guess I brought this upon myself. I only put off unpacking for so long because I didn't want to face the fact that one of the best experiences of my life is over. Also, I was way too lazy to unpack right when I got home. It's difficult to switch gears from the relaxing lifestyle to a stress filled one. It's going to be tough, but I will get through these mounds of souvenirs, clothing, and anything else I've neglected during these past few days. I must face reality. My vacation is over.
The days go by and I have finally gotten over the stages of unpacking. It took me a copious amount of time to prepare myself for a measly 40 minutes of unpacking, washing, and folding, but I'm proud of myself. I open my suitcase back up, fill it with clean clothes, and prepare myself for my next trip.
