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*cough—groan—cough* 

Clutching my belly, I blew my nose and pulled the covers over my head. 

“Mooom, I don’t feel good. I don’t think I can go to school today.” 

And so began the negotiation. 

“What’s wrong? You don’t have a fever. Your stomach hurts, and your throat hurts? Oh, you also have a runny nose. I see. Wow, that sounds like quite the catastrophe. You can stay home from school for one day.” 

I’m pretty sure my mom would’ve let me play hooky without putting on the “I’m sick” production. But faking illness to avoid the pain of institutionalized education is a right of passage. 

I kept up the charade until she kissed me on the forehead and left for work, my younger sister glaring at me as she walked out the door to catch the bus. 

The moment the rumble of the car engine faded into the distance, I grabbed the remote, nestled into the sofa, and surrendered to a day of mindless entertainment—mostly hanging out with Bob Barker and shouting “One dollar!” at the television. 

Sprinkle in some Family Feud, a few paternity tests with Maury, and a rousing game of Jeopardy (I may or may not have had a crush on Ken Jennings), and I was set. 

For lunch, I’d treat myself to a bowl of stovetop ramen with the addition of a bouillon cube for extra sodium pizzazz. If I was still hungry, I’d unwrap a slice of American cheese, place it atop a piece of bologna, and fry them up until the yellow cheese dripped decadently over the crispy meat. Yum? 

I spent the entire day languishing in carefree bliss! 

The guilt of feigning illness was quickly replaced by peaceful solitude and laced with the buzz of adrenaline that comes with doing something a little bit naughty. 

Sadly, I stopped playing hooky in graduate school. 

By that point, my addiction to perfection had grown too strong to tolerate the stress of missing class or an opportunity to go the extra mile for a professor. #teacherspet 

I tried playing hooky a few times early in my career, but instead of feeling the signature carefree bliss, I found myself wracked with crippling anxiety. 

My therapist preached the importance of taking mental health days. 

“Jill,” I scoffed, “how is it a ‘mental health day’ if I’m sitting around feeling guilty and stressed out? I’d rather go to work.”

And so, I abandoned “playing hooky” in the pile of childhood memories I couldn’t afford to take with me into adulthood. 

(Also in that pile: playfulness, silliness, and undiluted creativity.) 

Last week, I decided to dumpster-dive into my past, sorting through the rubbish until I recovered the part of me who knew how to play hooky like a pro. The past few months have been intense, and I desperately needed her assistance.

If you’re into the planets, you know that we’ve been in a hella long eclipse season, followed by mercury retrograde and a full moon. 

My life has mirrored this cosmic chaos. 

It’s been one crisis after another. Anything that can go wrong has gone wrong. It’s felt like being trapped on a wooden roller coaster, head jostling painfully from side to side. No relief until the car screeches to a stop at the end of the track. 

My stress has ratcheted up as my energy has ratcheted down. 

It hit me hard on Monday. 

I was cranky, anxious, and resenting everything on my calendar for the week. “Ugh! This feels terrible. I need some relief,” I mumbled in the middle of a bustling coffee shop. 

That’s when I decided it was time to play hooky. 

I spent the day wrapping up my time-sensitive tasks and told my team that I’d be playing hooky tomorrow. 

No feigned illness or asking Mom for permission was necessary!

I vowed to spend the day relishing joy, rest, and carefree ease. I desperately needed a reset, and I knew I was the only person who could give me what I needed. 

I’m happy to report that I had a great day. 

I slept in, had a leisurely morning, and went to the zoo!

The Oregon Zoo was my playground. I spent hours chilling with the river otters, marveling at the black bears scaling hundred-foot trees, and nerding out at various zookeeper talks.

(Fun fact: Did you know chimpanzees take human medications because our DNA is so similar? And that the female chimps have IUDs for birth control? Who knew?!) 

Obviously, you don’t have to go to the zoo to succeed at playing hooky. You can do anything you want, including doing nothing at all. 

“Playing hooky” is the act of taking unplanned time off to clear your head, recharge your batteries, and tend to your needs.

I just made up that definition. Feel free to make it your own. 

The magic is in the spontaneous spaciousness!

You might have to reschedule client appointments, cancel meetings, or postpone deadlines. I’m not saying it’s simple, but I am saying it’s necessary if you want to be deeply rested. 

The more I learn to treat myself like a human with a body and less like a robot with a control panel, the easier it is to operate my business with flexibility and gentleness. 

Scheduling planned time off and taking unplanned, spontaneous breaks are critical to our well-being as humans with bodies operating businesses in the material world. 

We have a lot on our plates, and sometimes, it all gets to be too much. I’m right there with you. 

Playing hooky was the medicine I needed to feel better. 

I returned the next day with a list of fresh ideas and ah-ha’s about boundaries I needed to adjust to make my days more sustainable.  

My batteries were recharged, and my motivation was reinvigorated. 

When’s the last time you played hooky? 

Here’s my advice… 

The next time you’re feeling overloaded, surprise yourself with a spontaneous day-off. Play hooky. Have fun. Take a nap. Watch game shows. Stare at the wall. Throw a party in the street! 

Do whatever you need to feel better.  

You’ll thank me after. 😉