The entire month of May is a blur to me. I started the month knowing that I would be going from one trip to another - an experience I expect to never have again - and I had accepted the stress of packing for multiple trips simultaneously. I did not anticipate the rest of the month to be just as busy.
A brief recap:
4/30-5/2 - Finals in KC
5/2-5/5 - St. Louis to babysit while my parents went on vacation - 210 miles
5/5-5/12 - Cancun - 1231 miles
5/12 - Cancun to St. Louis to Kansas City, arrived at 9:30pm - 1441 miles
5/13-5/19 - Mississippi, left KC at 6am - 1462 miles round trip
5/24-5/28 - OP, housesitting for my Aunt and Uncle - negligible miles, compared to the rest of the month
5/30-6/2 - KC to Chicago to Milwaukee to Chicago to KC - 1200 miles
That's approximately 5500 miles, for those who don't want to find their TI-83+s, discounting any random driving I did in any of the above cities. Now that may not be a lot to some, but I've done more traveling in the last month than in the entire 2 years before. I missed my little apartment, my bed, my kitchen.
I'm having trouble keeping straight who I was in each city with. It legitimately takes me a few seconds to reason it out. I've several times woken up unsure of which city or whose home I was in. Is it possible to have jet lag when a portion of the trip wasn't on a plane? Because that's how I feel.
And now I'm home, curled up on my little couch. I wanted to write this a week ago, but I was too tired to even find my journal. Unsure of which bag it had ended up in. Just yesterday I finally unpacked. My apartment was a row of suitcases and baskets, where things had been transferred between trips but never actually sorted through. I should do laundry...but I will probably just continue to stay in pajamas for a few days more.
I feel ridiculous. I shouldn't be depressed because I got to travel. I shouldn't be stressed because of the last month. I can't change it. I survived it. It could have been worse in innumerable ways. And yet I'm sitting here reflecting on it, fighting off tears. I don't even understand what is going on.
I know this sounds like a whiny-first-world-problems rant. And maybe it is. But I did not ever anticipate that vacations could become so stressful, and I haven't even fully wrapped my head around the last month. And now I'm finally home, and I have work to do, decisions to make, and I can't get myself to care enough. I wanted to come home from MS and relax, get back in the gym, and deal with moving. That...didn't happen. I can't seem to get un-exhausted. And even worse, I don't care. Is it post-stress depression? Is it simply avoidance because I am heading into an unknown and I don't handle that well? I honestly don't know. And yet, to prove how crazy I am - my first thought is "I don't want to be here. I just want to escape again". Where to? Who the hell knows.
I don't regret that craziness of the last month, and the 2 planned trips - Mexico and MS - were about as perfect as could be. 2 weeks of relaxation, fun, and a whole list of firsts. The added trips at the last minute though, were a bit much. And my brothers are begging me to come home, and I may need to go back to Milwaukee before moving, and the thought of either of those stresses me out...the thought of both nearly incites a panic attack.
And I haven't even begun to process my own concerns with the next couple of months.
We'll see how that goes.
12:11am 7.6.12
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