Whether you find yourself in rolling lockdowns (me, in Australia) or just suffering a post-summer slump as the days get shorter and your next island escape feels like a lifestyle away, escape is something we all need to be able to do...

My dirty little secret (which is only dirty because I want to be seen as someone who reads important works of literature), is that the way I slip out of my crowded house and away from All The Things is YA (Young Adult) fantasy fiction. I’m talking warrior fairies, wolves (warriors who turns into wolves), witches (warriors with magic) and whatever else the authors dream up. Sometimes, the age guide on these books is 12 and up. But honestly, this surprises me because they do get quite raunchy. If you checked my Google history, you might find searches like “steamy YA with fantasy elements.” I have always felt like that time in my teens, when life was full of so much romantic tension, was my sweet spot. So I guess I’m just indulging the teen within the irritated, tired working mum with coming-of-age stories of characters on a hero journey. And oh, how happy it makes me. If you’re curious, my favourite series so far starts with A Court of Thorn and Roses (or ACOTAR to those of us on the YA fantasy message boards call it).

Before I stumbled down this bliss hole, I would say my number one escape was television… followed closely by comfort eating. When the two happened together, it was great. But while bingeing on comedy before bed did make me feel pretty good, it make my mind all whirly and noisy when I turned off the lights. With reading (which I do on my phone), I find that I drift straight off without much hassle. And the truth is that I know just enough about sleep hygiene to know that watching shows in bed up until lights out is no good.

Podcasts are another great way to escape. My favourite place to listen to them is sitting down in the shower (do not tell any farmers you know I do this… or water conservation activists… or my mum who is basically both of the above). Right now, the second season of The Drop Out is giving me LIFE. If you’re not across the Elizabeth Holmes/Theranos debacle (or, like me, you’re just listening to the first season again), it’s a good time to catch up as the trial kicks off in the US. It has all the markings of a great Silicon Valley scandal, including an industry-disrupting vision, fake-it-till-you-make-it half-truths, actual lies, a sh*t ton of money given to the ingenue by wealthy white men, and now, accusations of coercive control and domestic abuse. 

Finally, another way I like to mentally escape is to actually plan an escape. Or event of some sort. This stands true whether you’re heading into winter or not allowed to leave your neighbourhood. Right now, I’m imagining my table decorations at our first family Xmas in our new home. ‘Will we have a signature cocktail?’ I found myself pondering at the sink yesterday, elbow deep in dirty dishes. ‘Do I need more festoon lighting,’ is another pretend-problem I was solving this morning on my walk. I have been been thinking about the sleeping arrangements with all the cousins and whether we should do matching PJs. I may have googled this last part and filled a few carts online. True, I have no idea whether we’ll even be allowed to have family and friends gather around our table, but I’ve never been one to let practical considerations (like budget or actual laws) get in the way of a daydream. I’m convinced I actually manifested my last two renovations by making so many plans in my head there was nothing else for the universe (and banks) to do but help me make them happen. 

And when all else fails, I breathe. Really deep. As many times as it takes to empty my mind, if only for a few seconds, Because ultimately, what I most need to escape from sometimes is that voice inside my head. She just won’t shut up.