I knew this girl once who just didn’t show up for work one day.

Her office was right down the hall from me, and she went home one evening, on a seemingly normal day…and just didn’t come back to work the next morning.

A couple of months later, I saw her again in that same hallway.  She told me that day that she had cracked.  Fallen apart and just couldn’t do it anymore.  Couldn’t do work.  Couldn’t do family.  Couldn’t do life.

I remember how surprised I felt at the time hearing her story.   This was a girl who was successful…had a beautiful family…was well liked by her friends…and spent every day looking like she walked out of magazine.  I had never so much as seen a hair out of place and yet – here she was – reminding me that nail polish and pretty shoes could only cover up so much.

Somewhere between walking through her office door that night and waking up the next morning…she had crumbled.  Succumbed to the unrelenting pressure around her to be…to do…to give.  And it ended up stealing a piece of her.

Last night, I stood at my kitchen counter with my head in my hands.  The kids were screaming upstairs…half of our dinner was burnt on the stove…and I had just ruined the bread I was about to bake because I was too distracted tending to a juice cup meltdown and read the recipe wrong.  My floor was covered in puzzle pieces…my bed was covered in laundry waiting to be folded…and my daughter was covered in a chocolate mess from the recent Oreo cookie that was stolen from under my nose.

While the anarchy swirled around me…I thought of her.  I thought of that moment when the ground gave out beneath her.  I thought of the million little things that contributed to her suffocation.  And I thought about what a miracle it was that this didn’t happen to me on a weekly basis.

My life, for the past four years, has been one of very intense focus.  Nearly every moment has been spent trying not to drown in the tidal wave of learning how to be a photographer, a business owner and a parent all at the same time.  Most of the time, I tread water.  It’s tiring…but you develop stamina.  And the knowledge that it won’t always be like this tends to keep you afloat.  But there have been a handful of times when the current was too much.  When the mere force of it all pulled me under and left me gasping for air.  Those were scary moments.  They are moments that still take my breath away just thinking about them.

But right now – I feel like I am finally starting to keep my head above water.  I may even be starting to get a glimpse of dry land.  Or in other words…a place of rest.  I’m not quite in a position where I can feel the sand between my toes yet…but I do feel like there are potentially moments in which I can swim to shore every now and then.  At least for a break.  It takes a bit more work…but the change of scenery is worth it.

And sometimes I wonder if swimming to shore sooner would have kept me from sinking in the first place?  If I had taken the extra effort to give myself a break…would it have saved me the energy of coming back up for air?

I have no idea.  And frankly, I think at this point…it doesn’t really matter.

What matters is that I’m doing it now…

In a couple of days, I’m getting in my car, and I’m taking a four day road trip.  By myself.  I’m driving to the borders of South Western Ontario so that I can sit on the metaphorical sand for a bit.  Enjoy the scenery.  Take a rest.  I’ll be visiting with some of my most favourite people in the entire world…and doing a few things so far outside of my comfort zone that my heart skips a beat at the very thought of it.  But it’s time.

Because even when we are chasing our dreams…even when we are reaching for the life we always wanted…even when the world is entirely within reach…sometimes the water gets rough.

So, off I go…to briefly let go of this life I’ve built…and swim to shore…