Melancholy in the Air

After my first three day work week, I concluded that with a five month leave, coming back to work was like riding a bike. Like a really big motorbike where I’m not really comfortable shifting and I’m riding it unnervingly fast.  With the job, I realized that I remember only enough of the details to know that I needed to know allot more than I do. On top of that, with The Other Girl going on leave, I have a little over two weeks to relearn it all. No pressure, Kirstin. Getting back into longer work days was easier said than done. From adrenaline learning and being out of any sort of routine, I’m exhausted by the end of the day.

We’re all unpacked and settled in the Log Cabin and I find myself unable to remain still over the weekend. I felt like a dog with a constant urge to pace back and forth across the lament cabin floor eager to busy and interactive, but wanting to stay away from people.  I wanted to be doing something, but I was unsure of what, so I was left feeling gloomy and restless. I’m homesick for Asia. I missed the messy navigation through streets of Chiang Mai to get to my morning yoga class. I craved the chatter of new roommates in my eight-plus person Hostel. Admittedly, it’s been really difficult sleeping in The Log Cabin with only Hugo and I. I think we’re both a little unsure of this situation. I’m nostalgic for  my favorite street food venders. Hell, I miss the shock of a stench hitting my nostrils while walking to get coffee in Old Town.  I’m lonely for some travel understanding. I want to swap stories of Asia, not just narrate one-sided tales.

My sister and her family came to see Hugo and I and we spent some time outside. While the girls were playing in the snow Megan asked me if I’m even a little bit happy to home. It took everything to hold back my tears. I know I am where I need to be, and I’ve never been so welcomed back into a community by friends and family, but the adjustment process is so much harder than I realized. I didn’t think there would be much adjusting. I mean, I chose the ‘hoof; I wanted to be back here for another year. So why am I longing to be elsewhere?

I’m a rather active person. But being that I came home around the should seasons of winter coming into spring and between the mood swings of the weather, too cold to run but only leftover snow remained for cross-country skiing, my outdoor activities were limited. Hugo and I did the best we could, but it wasn’t providing those endorphins I so desperately needed. So I signed up for a Wednesday night yoga class. 

 

The instructor discussions of closing pelvic floor and connecting your bandhas in her breathy voice left me rolling my eyes. Instructions came in a pillow-talk voice, and it was a little heavy on the crunchy granola side, even for this hippy.

But little by little, the poses were being held longer started getting harder. Suddenly I wasn’t merely in the basement-transitioned yoga studio in small town, BC. I was back in Asia. I was holding a Plank in Indonesia with my 68 year old instructor who still kicked my ass in each of the four classes I took there. Sweat was dripping off of me as I struggled in Utkatasana (Chair Pose), being directed by the very Hung Over American instructor with smudgy-eyes in Laos. I was failing at the dancers pose with my seven days of yoga in Cambodia. I performed my final round of Sun Salutation by the dreamy Tatted up Australian in Thailand. Transitioning into Savasana (Corpse Pose), I placed a tiny lavender scented bean-bang over my e yes and was transported back to the ‘Hoof. I took yoga at this studio pre-Asia the smell of lavender coming from the eye-pillow provided me with memories of Bushbabes, campfires, nieces, runs on the Bearhead Rd, drinks at the Reid, Gilmore Girl theme songs and fabulously silly work moments.

I’ve signed up for some more yoga classes. I secretly appreciate the pillow-talk and hippy vibes at this basement yoga studio. For an hour and a half, it felt so good to stretch and work my muscles. I’m even hoping to make some more yoga friends here.  

At work near the end of the day I was discussing a possible pay issue and nonchalant looking into our payroll system to find the source. It all came so natural to me, I mentioned to my boss that at that very moment, it felt like I never left this small town. It was a strange but slightly comforting sensation. I know it’s going to take more time to transition back into Aduting in Canada. It occurred to me while cross-country skiing with Hugo that I was off work and on another continent for almost half a year. A five month vacation. 

My good friend and bean-counter colleague told me that Grandpa, her husbands’ seventy-something father has is seeing Doris. “Grandpa has a girlfriend?” I repeated in shock. “Jesus, I need to get back on that horse”.

Givin’ it a go,

Kirstin

Almost belonging everywhere, not quite belonging anywhere.