The Psychology of Vacation – Why Where You Go Matters Less Than How You Plan to Arrive
Around the second evening of a long-awaited vacation, hotel rooms all over the world witness a familiar scene. Someone is lying on an overly soft bed, blinking at the ceiling, nursing a low-grade headache and sore throat, and wondering why their body decided to collapse at this precise moment after eleven months of meticulous saving, three connecting flights, and a hotel with a harbor view. In the corner, the luggage is still partially unpacked. The partner has already fallen asleep. And the question remains, silent but persistent: was it worthwhile?
This has a term used by psychologists. They refer to it as “leisure sickness,” or occasionally “transitory stress,” and it appears so frequently in vacation research that it starts to seem more like a pattern than an accident. The body doesn’t know what to do when the stress hormones abruptly drop because it is used to operating at maximum capacity during the hectic days leading up to departure. It rebels. The immune system relaxes, and instead of relaxation, you experience a sort of biological hangover from the weeks you worked hard to earn the break.
This is the portion of vacation that no one takes pictures of. When the sunburn has subsided and the mood has finally caught up with the location, the Instagram grid jumps ahead to day four. However, the majority of vacations are quietly won or lost at that earlier point, the messy transition, according to the research. In a piece for SHL, Dr. Marais Bester likens the crash to immune reconstitution inflammatory syndrome, a medical term for the body’s dislike of being thrown from sixty to zero. A ramp is required.
The work of Dutch psychologist Jessica de Bloom, who has spent years observing people before, during, and after their vacations, contains a more subdued discovery. She has noticed that the advantages of vacation disappear almost instantly after returning. Most people return to their initial state within two weeks, with the same levels of fatigue and well-being. This begs the awkward question: what precisely are we paying for if the glow fades so quickly?
Perhaps not the journey itself. According to studies on vacation anticipation, making reservations and gradually envisioning a different version of your life may have just as much psychological impact as the final destination. It is also evident in the cardiovascular data. The weeks prior to departure are when blood pressure starts to drop, not when the plane touches down. This means that, oddly enough, the time you spend daydreaming about the holiday at your desk is the least expensive and longest-lasting part of it.
If so, the location is not as important as we may believe. If the runway in and out is constructed correctly, a peaceful rental two hours from home and a beach in the Maldives can yield comparable returns. That appears to be the true lesson concealed within all of this research. It is referred to as pacing by Dutch psychologists. The week before, slow down. If at all possible, depart on Wednesday. Additionally, return on a Wednesday rather than a Sunday night, with Monday morning looming large like a trap. After you get home, plan on spending the evenings doing nothing. Consider the re-entry as a component of the journey.
This is not what most people will do. There are more and more deadlines. The mailbox is waiting. Arriving at the airport half-broken and coming back to finish a hundred emails before lunch is a strange source of pride, especially in workplaces that value burnout as evidence of seriousness. Perhaps the vacation itself was never the issue at all. What fails us is everything we cling to on either side of it.
Enjoy your holiday. Additionally, allow yourself to arrive slowly if you can.
