WTF just hit me?

There’s this thing that happens on tour that no one really tells you about. It’s called “reality,” and it hits hard, twice. First a sharp jab at the beginning of the tour, then an uppercut out of nowhere when it ends.

Imagine leaving your family, being thrown into the middle of a foreign city and told that not only do you have to survive there, but you have to entertain the natives. You find yourself defying your own preconceptions by taking on activities, responsibilities, and authority you normally wouldn’t, while struggling to maintain the routines that you know keep you healthy, and missing the people who normally support you.

But by the end, you’ve become accustomed to the skills that allow you to do that day after day. And you like yourself better for it. You like the people who helped you do it. Your normal troubles and stresses don’t seem so insurmountable.

You go home, and you’re overjoyed to be back with the people and places you love. They are more lovely even than before. Then you realize you just left behind new people and places you love. The responsibilities and stresses you originally left behind are still there, and seem even more inane than before, but they still have to be taken care of.

That’s where I’m at. I’d love to tell you all about every story on the tour, but I’m figuring out how to deal with this happy/sad shit and not go crazy sitting in my apartment.