There is often a strange sort of hangover that happens to me when I return from a roadtrip. The adjustment seems to take longer for the return than it does for the leaving.
While traveling, my senses are bombarded all day long. Every hour of daylight is filled with wind and noise and wonder and visual stimulus.
While I’m on the go, maybe I don’t feel what you would call tired. But, when I stop for the night I often don’t bother turning on the TV in my hotel room. I just kind of veg out, read blogs and news and whatnot, maybe write a little something. It’s like I have to meter my additional input for the day. Because I actually am tired.
Upon returning home I feel an acute awareness that I’m not taking in as much information as I had been in the days prior. There is a period of time where that’s good and I just relax – but that then turns into something like a withdrawal as the mundane activities of life return.
Traveling for me is an escape. Probably from myself. And I suppose the high that it gives is addictive.
I typed out this post standing in a gas station parking lot here on Long Island. Even though I’m home now, I guess I’m not quite at home yet.