Turns out, getting away doesn’t mean coming back refreshed.
Sometimes it’s hard to find the motivation for motivation.
Some days I have all the energy I could want, and others I have a hard time even spelling my name.
I don’t know if the vacation’s to blame or if it’s the carbs spiking my blood sugar—either way, I’m struggling this week.
Honestly, I think I forgot to mention it to my readers, but I went on a family vacation to Kentucky last week.
As fun as it was, there were also parts that wore me out, not just physically either.
It’s funny. I can remember going on vacations as a child and having this never-ending flow of energy.
The older I got, the more ironic vacations felt. We spend all this time looking forward to getting away, and then when that time comes, the “relaxing” apparently is subjective.
There’s the driving. The packing. The unpacking. The figuring out where you’re going. Where you’re eating.
And most of all, the constant being around people.
Before you know it, you’re home again, and your physical body is present, but your mental state is filing a formal complaint.
That might explain why motivation has been a little harder to find these past few days. I came home from vacation expecting to have something interesting to write about and jump headfirst into everything.
But the writing feels a bit stale. Work seems to just drag on. The million tiny things somehow don’t stop existing just because I took a detour from reality.
Instead, it’s like a vacation hangover washed over me…
Not a fun feeling either.
The feeling where everything about your reality is personally offensive.
The small, normal things that I wouldn’t blink at now suddenly feel like inconveniences.
The laundry? Offensive.
My overfilled inbox? Personally insulting.
A perfectly innocent question? The nerve to ask.
And the worst part? None of these things are remotely serious.
I’m just tired.
I’m really tired.
Which somehow makes it even more frustrating.
It’s not one of the great mysteries of the world. I need sleep. Probably a lot more water. Maybe fewer sweets. And absolutely more coffee.
But that’s not exactly world-changing.
Knowing what I need and actually doing something about it are apparently two completely different things.
When I’m exhausted, even the simple things that make me feel better start to feel like a weight.
Deciding to go to bed earlier? A top-tier idea.
Actually doing it? Apparently negotiable.
Working myself back into my routine? It’s like wrangling a sick toddler who absolutely refuses to budge.
Maybe what I’m realizing about motivation isn’t that it requires a simple pep talk. Maybe it’s realizing that we treat motivation like something we have constant access to.
As adults—or honestly, even just as humans trying to make it in the world—we’ve come to expect ourselves to bounce back from vacation as quickly as a rainstorm appears in the mountains.
But maybe that’s not how it’s supposed to work.
What if we need that awkward, centering “offness” to help us put ourselves back into perspective?
For me?
My motivation is still somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Kentucky.
So I think for now, I’m going to give myself a little benefit of the doubt, catch up on some sleep, drink a little extra water, and slowly make friends with the coffee pot again.
And if I’m lucky, my motivation will return…
Eventually, she may even bring freshly brewed coffee.
More soon,
Quill
