Summertime Blues: Crammed Calendars and Exhausting Vacations
- Marilyn Yaquinto, PhD
- Aug 7
- 9 min read
Updated: Aug 9
Summer is the season many of us associate with time off or time away from our regular, more predictable routines. We go on vacations to discover new places. Or to show old places to new friends and family members. We hit the road with unbridled enthusiasm and take in historic sites, chiseled monuments, and breathtaking national parks.
We do so with a sense of urgency. That's because we grasp the fleeting nature of a season that forecasts idealized leisure, ceaseless sunshine, and postcard-perfect memories.
What’s lodged in our imaginations is that fun-in-the-sun vibe we see shared on social media. Or visions of ourselves basking in those "lazy hazy days of summer" (thanks, Nat King Cole). Perhaps we imagine we're Sandy and Danny in Grease hoping to get swept away by a summer romance.
For me summer is often accompanied by a lifelong soundtrack that anticipated the romantic fiction of the "Endless Summer" the Beach Boys once promised me.
Most of us have a summer anthem we start humming once the weather gets warmer. Depending on our age and era, we might hear Frank Sinatra's "Summer Wind," the Go-Gos' "Vacation," or Harry Styles' "Watermelon Sugar."
Beyond biological needs and circadian rhythms, why do we worship the sun, especially in summer? Helen Keller once observed that if we turn our faces "to the sun," we can avoid seeing "the shadows." Is that what all this mandated fun in the sun is meant to do: dodge sadness and keep melancholy at bay? That's a lot of pressure to put on a season. And perhaps a warning sign about how precarious our grip on happiness is that no beach towel can cover up or slice of watermelon can soothe.
Perhaps we're trying to do more with more. To emphasize quantity over quality and cram in as much as we can. Even if that strategy risks further depleting what energy reserves any plans are meant to restore. A stressful approach to a stress-free experience that leaves us needing a vacation from our vacation.
It's not the journey, it's the destination?
Contrary to the most sage advice about how wisdom lies in the journey, we often fixate on our summer destination and endure whatever it takes to get there. Both the journey and the destination could yield spontaneous moments of joy or heartfelt insights, if only we could relax long enough to let them happen on their own.
We're well aware that all the planning, packing, and transporting ourselves to dream destinations is not the fun part. Nor are they alone capable of revealing truths about ourselves. Still, we promise ourselves fun (and plenty of healing sun) once we get to the lake, the cottage, the ocean, the campsite, the resort, or fill-in-the-blank theme park.
Not too long ago I watched a neighbor load up his station wagon for a week's vacation with his family. He spent hours strapping things to the roof, fixing gear to the tailgate, and buckling down even more stuff in a trailer he was to tow. Everything was overflowing with "toys" for the trails, waves, and BBQs ahead. And he looked exhausted before he even backed out of the driveway.
As a life coach, I recently asked one of my stressed-out clients to list all the activities he and his family had been involved in since school let out in spring. I needed him to gauge the pace and scope of what might explain his current fatigue. Once he reviewed his list, he was dumbstruck by what he and his family had put themselves through. Most of his family's overcrowded calendar was linked to summer fun-and-sun activities. The problem was that he failed to see the signs of stress creeping in because it was all about going ON VACATION!
We anticipate the inevitable snags when planning a trip cross-country for Thanksgiving. We're battle-ready for the possible snow storm, piece of lost luggage, or sulking family member. But to have to deal with a pouty relative at a summer rental seems like a sin against sunshine itself.
I asked the above client what would happen if he followed through on what he said to me in one of our sessions: to scale back on some of his family's vacation plans. At first, he stared at me as if I’d suggested he call off a space shuttle launch. Within a week, though, he relayed how they indeed cut back some plans and replaced them with a mini “staycation.” At first his wife balked, concerned that it was a throwback to the COVID years. But once she realized it was a choice and not a mandate, she was in.
Is summer burnout a real thing?
Maybe it's hard for us to fully grasp the effort, expense, and exhaustion involved in executing the ideal summer vacation. We seem to be in a state of denial about the inevitable highs and lows, the lost reservation, or occasional stomach upset. Yet, no matter how many mosquito bites or sunburns we suffer, we maintain our enthusiasm for our perfect projections and tolerate nothing less.
"Unlike traditional burnout, which is usually linked to work overload or chronic stress, summer burnout often stems from the pressure to balance too many expectations under the illusion of rest," notes a blog from Cook Counseling and Consulting, which specializes in psychotherapy services. It notes that common causes of summer burnout include:
Overcommitting to social events or travel.
Juggling work deadlines while covering for others on vacation.
Childcare responsibilities when school is out.
Heat-related fatigue and disrupted sleep.
The mental load of “making the most” of the season.
Financial stress from seasonal spending.
Are we having fun, yet?
Even kids today seem as exhausted as their parents by the summer's end. They've been enrolled in various camps (sometimes back to back) to boost their grasp of science, to expose them to wilderness training, or to beef up their athletic skills.
The latest trend in summer camps is one that promises parents a technology-free week for their kids, whether in the woods or another natural setting. What was an ordinary camp in the pre-digital era, with hiking trips, swimming lessons, and campfires, is now marketed as a novelty (and often pricey) "analog" experience.
I spent most of my childhood summers complaining about how bored I was. My mother's response was to tell me to go outside and get some "fresh air." No matter what excuse I offered (it's hot and muggy or just plain buggy), she'd simply repeat: "Go find something to do because you're not spending the summer watching TV all day!" It wasn't much different than getting a kid today to put down the cell phone or tablet and go outside for that curative "fresh air" my mother was pushing.
What's perhaps changed, for better or worse, is that my mother didn't think she was responsible for my fun. Or that it was her job to keep me entertained for the summer. What I made of it (or didn't) was entirely up to me. Ah, what I wouldn't give now to get back some of that "bored" time I griped about at age 11.
I've come to realize that time itself is not the problem. Its lack or abundance. It's our assumption that we can control it. As a result, come summertime, we overload it and push it beyond its temporal limitations. In winter, time drags on. In summer, time becomes a most precious commodity.
The late, great humorist, Erma Bombeck once described her summer experience living in a camper with her family as being more work for her as a mom. She complained that she had traded in her suburban laundry room to now having to wash clothes in a propane-fueled saucepan. Yes, Erma's familiar bombast. But a kernel of truth nonetheless.
For any of my clients who vacation away from home with their kids, this makeshift hit-or-miss handling of life's daily routines (and nap times) is often a source of acute stress. And we don't have to resemble the Griswolds with Chevy Chase at the helm to realize how quickly vacations can turn into ordeals and a test of wills.
On a trip to Florida with my brothers and I crammed into the backseat, my father actually uttered those threatening words about turning the car around if we didn't behave. My husband's family once left one of the kids behind at a rest stop. It wasn't long before they noticed and doubled-back to retrieve her. It's now a memorable (and amusing) part of the family's folklore.
"Slow travel" on purpose
A survey sponsored by Club Wyndham reported that two in three Americans admit feeling too much pressure during their vacations to actually enjoy them. Of the 2,000 adults surveyed, almost one-quarter of them said they haven't felt physically relaxed after their vacations for the last two years.
"High demand for leisure travel and a pent-up desire for vacations have resulted in many of today's travelers approaching their vacations with limited time and an urgent list of must-sees and must-dos. Making them stressed before they even unpack," notes Renu Hanegeefs-Snehi, of Travel + Leisure Co.
"Slow travel is to go boldly, knowing that being in the moment is the only thing that matters because that's where vacation takes place." Yes, to live in the moment, whether en route or at our destination.
When I look back on some of my fondest family vacation memories, they occurred on rainy days at a summer rental when we couldn't go outdoors. We had to be creative and amuse ourselves. We hovered over jigsaw puzzles, board games, and coloring books. And that was just the adults. The point was to spend time together and to let whatever happened happen.
Michigan lakes and northern escapes
Every summer for the past dozen years my family crowds into a lake house near Traverse City, Michigan. It sleeps 12 and we bring enough food to feed 20 for a month, but which barely lasts the week.
The common fiction for those of us who endure long, dark winters is that we're too active in the summertime to gain weight.
Personally, I leave that lake cottage like other people come off a cruise ship: five pounds heavier. That's despite hiking, biking, swimming, kayaking, and perhaps a game or two of water volleyball.
My weight gain is no surprise to anyone, including me. I start drinking soda (pop to us Michiganders), beer and cocktails around midday. That's after having started on chips and dip not long after breakfast. Basically, it's one long grazing period that's permissible only because I'm ON VACATION!
We can't even plan a boat ride without dragging a cooler and tote bags full of snacks. These boat rides often have me obsessively looking for loons. It's not "up north" to me without hearing their mournful calls echo across the lake. But I'm not sure how we can even hear a loon above the din of crunching, rustling, and crackling that accompanies our moveable feast.
I once tried to plan ahead for this inevitable vacation binge-fest. I packed a Costco-sized bag of nut and dried fruit packets to ward off the fast food, rest stop fare I knew sets me up for failure. After two weeks and 5,000 miles, I'd eaten just two packets. But I had eaten my weight in hot dogs, hamburgers, potato salad, ice cream, and fudge (courtesy of Mackinac Island). In Traverse City, everything is cherry-inspired, from salsas to t-shirts, incorporating this local specialty. That includes the nearby Cherry Capital Airport.
I've heard plenty of stories from clients with their own version of the potato chip problem. Let's face it, if it's salty, sweet, or greasy, it's our go-to food. And everyone knows that calories don't count while ON VACATION!
Aside from my ongoing struggle with food (and local cherry-flavored BBQ chips), I approached this year's vacation with a new attitude. Like many people, I had to work some of the time, when the Wifi gods were feeling generous. Otherwise, I tried to do nothing whenever I could. To just be in the moment. Appreciate whatever I could see off the porch or the dock. Stare at the campfire across the lake or boat lights in the distance. Give myself a chance to get bored like I did when I was a kid.
Maybe it didn't really slow down time. But it allowed me to relish any given moment for all it was worth. To try to fix in my memory that infectious smile that lights up my nephew's face. Or to appreciate my mother's delight in watching ducks slowly paddle by the dock.
For our final outing this year, we visited one of our nation's gorgeous national parks: Sleeping Bear Dunes. We went at sunset to experience the stunning view in a different light. Literally. It was a spectacular moment to share together before we scatter back to our respective homes in Illinois, Wisconsin, Tennessee, California, and Virginia.
Henry David Thoreau often spoke about the restorative force of nature and its ability to heal us. In 1853 he offered these words:
All nature is doing her best each moment to make us well -- she exists for no other end. Do not resist her.
For whatever amount of summer may be left, try spending it in nature, whether that's in a backyard close to home or a stunning vista along Lake Michigan. Do not resist the moment. Savor it. Be ON VACATION for real.
If you need help with anything that was shared in this blog, or want to share your thoughts, book a discovery call below. Remember I'm here to listen and help you map your path forward.
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1970 - Mungo Jerry.