I’m still adjusting to being home.
Which, let me be clear, is different that saying: I am still adjusting to no longer being on the Camino. Or, I am still adjusting to not walking long distances every day. Those two things I have perfectly adjusted to, much to the happiness of my aching feet.
I am still adjusting to being home.
Which, now that I have written that, isn’t really what I want to say at all. Because being home isn’t what I am struggling with. Being home has been lovely. Being home, seeing my family, my friends, and living a life of unemployed leisure has actually taken no adjustment on my part whatsoever.
So what the heck am I still adjusting to? Is “adjusting” even the right word? What, exactly, is my problem?
(Welcome to the inner workings of my brain.)
It’s the unknown. I am still adjusting to the unknown. My unknown. The huge, blank slate before me that is my life. My future.
The closest thing I currently have to a goal is getting a part-time holiday job at a local retail store. Something to get me through the next couple of months and COBRA payments. But then what? More travel? A new career? Which career?
I’m open to thoughts and suggestions. I’m open to anything, really, as long as it’s not Dunder-Mifflin, Inc.
