This past weekend, I found myself in beautiful Savannah, soaking in the Live Oaks and Southern charm during my annual pre-school-starts, kids-are-with-my-ex getaway. And like clockwork, somewhere between my morning coffee and a stroll through Forsyth Park, that familiar thought crept in: I wish I'd just stayed home. Not because Savannah wasn't lovely. It was. But because I realized, once again, that I'd fallen into the Getaway Paradox – that peculiar modern phenomenon where I plan escapes to find the very peace that might have been waiting for me all along in my own living room.

‍Here's what happens: Every year, Joe and I get uninterrupted time with the kids and then without them, and that window appears on the calendar like a golden ticket. Immediately, I feel this pressure – sometimes from others, often from myself – to make it count. To optimize. Staying home feels like I'm wasting the opportunity, doesn't it?

So we book the trip. We pack the bags. We drive or fly the miles. We check in. And then, finally relaxed enough to hear our own thoughts, we realize what we actually craved wasn't a change of scenery – it was simply permission to do absolutely nothing. There's something almost comical about traveling hundreds of miles to do exactly what we could have done at home: sleep in, read a book, take a long bath, eat when we feel like it. But we've been conditioned to believe that rest requires escape, that relaxation needs a different zip code to be legitimate.

‍The truth? Sometimes the most radical act of self-care is to stay put. Don't get me wrong – Savannah was wonderful. The city gave me something important: distance. Not just physical distance from my daily life, but psychological permission to truly disconnect. Those historic squares and unfamiliar streets told my brain, "You're off duty now."But here's the thing I'm learning, year after year: I could give myself that same permission at home. I just don't.Imagine experiencing your own home the way a tourist would. Without the mental load of undone tasks, without the schedules and responsibilities, your familiar spaces transform. That reading chair by the window becomes a meditation spot. The kitchen becomes a place for leisurely cooking experiments, not rushed meal prep. The bathtub you barely use becomes a spa.When we stay home during our precious free time, we get something travel can't offer: rest without recovery time. No packing stress, no travel fatigue, no pressure to explore or make the most of being somewhere special. Just pure, unadulterated nothing-to-do-ness.

‍So how do we know whether to book that getaway or embrace the staycation? Here's what I'm learning to ask myself:

• Am I running toward something (adventure, novelty, inspiration) or from something (routine, stress, burnout)?
• What kind of tired am I – body tired, mind tired, or soul tired?
• Do I need stimulation or the absence of it?
• Will travel energize me or add another layer of exhaustion?

The answers change each time, and that's okay. Maybe what this annual pattern is really telling me – and perhaps you – is that we need to get better at giving ourselves permission to rest without the elaborate justification of a trip. That it's okay to take that precious child-free weekend and do absolutely nothing productive with it. That staying home isn't wasting an opportunity; sometimes it's exactly the opportunity we need.Next year, when this same week rolls around, I might still book a getaway. Or I might not. But either way, I'll remember what Savannah taught me this year: that what I'm really seeking isn't a destination, but a state of mind. And sometimes, the shortest journey to get there is no journey at all.

‍What about you? Do you find yourself caught in the Getaway Paradox – planning elaborate escapes when what you really crave is permission to rest? I'd love to hear about your own experiences with the push and pull of staying versus going.