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I'm 43 and only now learned how to relax. It took a trip in which I did nothing to learn how to do it.

Christopher Mannino   

I'm 43 and only now learned how to relax. It took a trip in which I did nothing to learn how to do it.
  • I'm a stay-at-home dad of two.
  • A recent family vacation in which I did nothing taught me I needed to relax.

In an episode of the hit Australian show "Bluey," Chili Heeler proclaims, "I don't know how to relax." Never has a line from television rung so true for me. Chili's recognized for being an ideal mother, but even she's wound so tight that relaxation is elusive.

I spent six hours with my 4-year-old daughter in Philadelphia at the children's museum the other day. Then, we toured Valley Forge before visiting a zoo the next. Tomorrow we're off to the trampoline park after dropping her brother at camp, grocery shopping, making a meal, and story time.

I wind down from each of these nonstop busy days at the computer, either writing articles or working on my novels. Yes, I confess I'm a workaholic. But the problem goes deeper. I'm 43 and had never even experienced true relaxation until recently. This sounds hard to believe, but it's true, and I suspect there are others out there in similar situations.

A vacation in the Dominican Republic changed things for me

We were packing for a vacation in the Dominican Republic at the Club Med Playa Miches Esmerelda, a new resort about 90 minutes west of Punta Cana. This was a vacation, not a trip, by which I mean the club offered camp-style kid's clubs every day for our two children. The kids would go to the ocean, go swimming in the splash park, and have many adventures.

We knew they'd have fun (and they did) and were looking forward to some downtime for just the two of us. I packed my laptop and was talking about all the neat excursions in the jungles and ocean around the resort. That's when my wife held up her hand.

"No," she said. "No laptop. No excursions. No plans."

I was confused. No writing time? That's what I do to relax. No excursions? That's what all our trips include — adventure after adventure. Isn't that what traveling is all about? I voiced my concerns and asked her what we were going to do on the trip, and the answer was truly mind-boggling.

"Nothing. We're going to do nothing."

I did nothing, and it was great

Fast forward to the beach. To that perfect spot in the southern Caribbean where the turquoise water laps against the golden sand. Where a gentle salt breeze blows across our sun-kissed skin with constant and comforting ripples, palm trees sway against the vivid sapphire sky. My wife and I lay in lounger chairs on the secluded, near-empty beach, basking in the sun. The kids were in the kids' club, and their absence was a beautiful and deeper silence of its own.

I admit I read from a book for a while. And then I did something revolutionary. I put down my book, closed my eyes, and turned off my brain. I turned off the drafting, the planning, the parenting, the worries, the stresses, and a 100 other things.

I did nothing.

And for the first time in my entire life, I discovered relaxation.

Every night, before I sleep, I now go back to that beach in my mind, and I again find nothingness. What's more, I allow downtime for myself and the kids. Yes, I did a lot so far this week, but we have a day of nothing ahead.

Take note, Chili Heeler. Nothing is everything.

Christopher Mannino is an at-home dad, author, and freelance writer. He writes fantasy books for children and adults and lives in Delaware.



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