It's hard to believe that it's been more than a month since I left the trail. I still miss it every single day. I knew it would take me a while to get re-acclimated, but honestly...I still crave adventure like a fish craves water. Since I got back to civilization, I've gone through various phases of recovery and readjustment. Here's my account of what I'm referring to as "The 5 Stages of Trail-Related Separation Anxiety":
Stage 1: "Culture-Shock-Resulting-In-Collapse-From-Exhaustion"
A red-eye flight of no sleep from Reno, a morning spent in a crowded terminal at JFK in New York, getting picked up by family in the carpool lane, and ALL THE SMELLS. It was so overwhelming that I genuinely did not have the energy to care how radically different my environment was from 24 hours earlier. I just got into the car and immediately morphed into a Silly Putty version of myself. My reaction was, to quote a white girl, "I can't even."
Stage 2: "Oh Shit...Is This My Life?"
Also known as the "identity crisis" phase. This happened about 5 days after I landed, when I walked into the house I grew up in. I had barely walked in the door and dropped my luggage when I felt the lump in my throat emerge and my face flush. I just sat down on the floor and cried. I didn't even completely know why. I think it was a gut reaction to the fact that I felt I no longer fit in this life, and that I couldn't go back to the one I fit into before. But I was still suffering from the residual effects of stage 1, so I was still too tired to actually try and resolve this issue. I just slept, ate, and drank wine instead.
Stage 3: "Basic Rehabilitation And Cognitive Hyperbole"
Getting back to a healthy weight took next to no time at all. Turns out it's easy to have a normal percentage of body fat when you're not perpetually draining you entire energy reserves on a daily basis. Go figure. So I got my body back, slept a bunch, and the second I started feeling better I found I could no longer sit still. I went for walks at first (weird, without a pack or trekking poles), then rode my bike like a maniac, and even tried running again (little success, much soreness). I escaped to Appalachia any time I could manage it, but hiking and camping would always make me miss the trail. No matter how hard I tried, I found I could never satisfy my exercise needs. It felt like I was going through withdrawal, and when I couldn't get my fix of endorphins and movement, I had some major meltdowns. With all that nervous energy bouncing around in my brain, I was often jittery, easily agitated, and had a fair few unexplained "stress-crying" fits. The stress I was feeling from inactivity pooled itself into my sense of displacement, of not belonging to the environment I was in, and amplified it. I felt that my core values were no longer in line with my surroundings, and that combination was having toxic results on my emotional health. This stage felt very similar to the overly-dramatic teenage years.
Stage 4: Trying To Be Normal
...And failing. Miserably. Sure, I started showering daily and washing my clothes after one use again. I made my bed, and cleaned up after myself. I read the paper and had conversations about how Donald Trump is doing in the primaries. I applied for "grown-up" jobs, took interviews, and spent my days editing my resume and looking up insurance quotes. I tried to re-engage myself with my old communities and social groups, though I found that most of those felt stale to me as well. It isn't that I don't love my friends and family, but every time I tried to reintegrate into my old life habits, something just felt wrong. After one particular interview for a job I actually kind of wanted, I realized suddenly (mid-sentence while talking with the interviewer no less) that it wasn't about what the job was. It was about where the job was. And where I was just wasn't clicking for me.
So now I'm at...
Stage 5: Screw It. New Adventure. GO.
I didn't leave the trail to fall back into boring routine and "normality". I left the trail because I had a feeling that there was another adventure out there to be had, and it was time for me to go seek it out. I had said several times before I left the trail that maybe when I got done I would drive across the country and find myself a new place to live. It was an option, but not one I had given much thought to. But now I found that when I started giving that idea some thought, I started feeling better. No more stress-crying, no more identity crisis, just calm; the same kind of calm that I felt about my decision to hike the PCT. I can't explain why I want to do this thing. I just do. For better or for worse, I just know that's where I need to go.
Note: There is a very real possibility that Stage 5 is actually the stage of "Reckless and Desperate Actions" and that this is insane. But I don't care. I'll find out how many stages there actually are later.
In a few days, I begin my trip across the country, width-wise this time and with wheels. I have interviews in several states out west, but at the moment I have no sure job, no place to live, and in most of the places I am headed I know next to nobody there. If I hadn't lived through the 4 months of this summer where those things were concrete, daily truths for me, this adventure might scare me. Instead, I just see it as an awesome new challenge.
So without further ado.........ROAD TRIP!!!!
