Why You Should Take Two Weeks Off

About this Video:

I’ve spent most of my life as a “one-week” guy. You know the type. You pack on a Friday, fly out Saturday, spend Sunday twitching because you aren’t checking email, and by Wednesday, you’re already mentally preparing for Monday’s 8:00 AM meeting. It’s not a vacation; it’s just a change of scenery for your anxiety.

I recently took a 17-day trip to Scandinavia, and honestly? It felt like breaking a law I’d been following for forty years.

I ended up at the Oslo Opera House, just sitting there. No agenda. No “let’s get to the next landmark” pressure. In this video, I talked about how that moment changed everything. I’ve been remarkably ineffective at actually resting, even though I’m the guy who’s supposed to have this stuff figured out.

There’s a massive difference between a “break” and real rest. A break just reloads the battery so you can go back to the grind. Real rest? That’s different. It’s about slowing down long enough to actually be present for your own life—to see the things you’d normally walk right past because you’re too busy being “productive”.

It makes me wonder, how much have we all missed because we were afraid to stay away for more than seven days?

If you’re like me, “slowing down” feels a bit like losing. But after Scandinavia, I’m starting to think that never truly disconnecting is the real loss.

What would happen if you gave yourself permission to actually disappear for a bit?

Transcription:

I want to tell you about the most embarrassing spreadsheet of my life.

I ran a food service company for decades, and like a lot of business owners, I was pretty vocal about my team taking their vacation time. I’d practically chase people out the door when their accrued days got too high.

30 days sitting unused, I’m knocking on your office door.

40 days, we’re having a conversation.

Then one day we published everyone’s accrued time for the whole company to see. And there I was at the top of the list, 130 days.

I asked my controller to quietly take me off the list, which tells you everything you need to know about how I handled that particular piece of self-awareness.

Here’s the thing. I told myself for 40 years about vacations, I can only afford one week, maybe less. Who’s going to handle things? What if a customer needs me?

And I believed it completely. Every year, one week. Come back half rested by Wednesday. It was like I never left.

Then two years ago, Suzanne and I went to Northern Europe in Scandinavia, 17 days, first extended vacation of my life at 71.

On day three, we were wandering around the port, no agenda, nowhere to be, and across the water I noticed this building, angular, dramatic, almost like it was rising straight out of the harbor.

I had no idea what it was.

Turns out it was the Oslo Opera House and they were giving tours.

Here’s what the old me would have said. One week vacation, we don’t have time for that.

Except we did have time.

We had 14 days left. There was no reason to rush, no reason to cram everything in.

So we took the tour.

It turned out to be one of the most extraordinary experiences of the entire trip. The architecture. The history. The way the whole building was designed to invite people in off the street.

Something I would have walked right past because I’d already decided there wasn’t time.

That moment in Oslo taught me something I probably should have learned 40 years earlier.

One week of vacation and two weeks of vacation aren’t the same experience with more days added.

They’re genuinely different things.

One week, my brain never fully lets go. It’s too short.

Two weeks, something shifts around day 10 or 11.

The mental noise settles. I stop thinking about articles, about deadlines, about what was waiting back home.

Not because I was forcing myself to stop, but because there was finally enough space for something else to be there.

Instead, I came back from that trip genuinely different, clearer, more present.

Which made me wonder with real embarrassment. What have I been doing all those years with my one week?

So I’m sitting with two questions these days and I’m curious what you think.

The first one is personal. What’s my actual relationship with rest?

Not the version I talk about, the version I live.

The second one is for anyone who still runs a business or leads a team.

What would actually happen if everyone, the owner included, took two real, fully disconnected weeks off every year?

You know, I don’t have a complete answer. I’m a student on this.

Not an expert.

I just know what happened when I finally stopped walking past things I’d already decided I didn’t have time for.

I found the Oslo Opera House.

And I’m still wondering what else I’ve been walking past.

I’d love to hear your experience. Drop it in the comments. We’re all seekers in this long, strange trip.

Let’s figure it out together.

Hey, thanks a lot for stopping by. I hope to see you next week for our next video.