I want out.

Not in the same way my brother wanted out because, right now, the wounds have reopened and I hate him for hanging himself and causing our family to rip apart.

But I do want to close the front door of my life and exit it for a while.

That doesn’t mean I’m unhappy or depressed. Far from it. Despite the trauma and upheaval of the past three years and having to deal with a grief so cruel in its vicious and violent unexpectedness, I love my life.

And for good reason.

I love my flat with my harbourside view (albeit you have to contort yourself into strange positions that even yoginis might have a hard job mastering and lean out of the window of the spare bedroom in order to catch a glimpse of the water). I love my job teaching English as a foreign language. I love my family, and I love my friends.

In fact, I'd be hard-pressed to change much at all.

Except one thing. I want a month-long holiday and for that i blame my friend Jay, who sends more handwritten letters and postcards than anyone else I know, for planting the seed in my head.

Just this very morning, a postcard flopped through the letterbox from Koh Phangan, an island of southern Thailand.

"Having a great time," wrote Jay.

"Sleeping well. Eating well. Reading and resting, which is great after hard work volunteering at elephant nature park."

Her card made me smile, but then they always do. Despite being on the other side of the world - in Perth Australia, to be precise - and not privy to everyday goings-on, she has an uncanny knack of tapping into exactly what it is you need to hear.

And what I really needed to hear was that I'm totally justified in taking a month off.

I'm not particularly bothered where I end up. Sure, the elephant sanctuary and hot, balmy days on a white, sandy beach in Thailand would be idyllic but I’d happily settle for a place closer to home where my biggest worry would be deciding which book to read or whether there was time to squeeze in another swim before dinner.

It’s not that I think I’m more stressed than anyone else living a busy life, because on a day-to-day basis my stressors are pretty insignificant and, come bedtime, I can usually drift off to sleep pretty quickly once I’ve got unpleasant images of my brother hanging there out of my head.

However, what’s become clear – to me, at least – is that the stress of Matt’s suicide – and the ensuing fallout – has pushed deep down inside my muscles so much so that my back is knotted up like a pretzel. Unfortunately, a week’s holiday doesn’t do much to resolve it because no sooner have I slipped into full relaxation mode, it’s time to head back home.

As much as the holiday recharges me, it’s very much surface-level only. What I really need is a month to peel away the layers and reach the root of the stress and it’s crucial that I do just that because my body has already shown me what happens when it can’t cope with the overload.

Once I’ve hit that stress and effectively dealt with it, I know that I’ll have reached a significant turning point. That’s not an option right now, though, so instead I’m going to dust off my walking boots and use my ten-day break in September as preparation for Just Walk 2013.

I’m currently averaging between 10km and 18km a day in preparation for walking 60km along the South Downs in aid of Winston’s Wish next May.

But it’s been pretty easy to date because it’s all been done on the flat. The challenge is going to be in tackling the undulating hills, which is where my holiday comes in.

First, I’m opting for a long weekend in the Cotswolds with my friend Amy and her fiancée. After that, I’m planning to swap my urban jungle workouts (aka walking on the pavements) for much longer treks in the Dorset countryside, which have been strategically chosen for their proximity to good pubs and restaurants.

The New Inn in Cerne Abbas , The Greyhound Inn in Sydling St Nicholas  and the newly-opened Tickled Pig in Wimborne are all places I’m looking forward to checking out.

And I also know we’ll be stopping for a cream tea up at Pamphill Dairy because my parents’ dog, Rocco, loves swimming upstream in the River Stour, before making our way onto Shapwick or Badbury Rings .

And, of course, I’ll be factoring in some serious pampering for my poor feet after they’ve been cooped up in walking boots for days on end.

It may not be quite the week break I was after but it will do for now. I’m also convinced that by the time it’s over, I’ll be more than glad to walk back through my front door and into the life I love.

I’m walking the South Downs in May 2013 to raise £2,000 for Winston’s Wish, the UK’s leading childhood bereavement charity. Please click here to sponsor me.