The other day, I was sitting in a shed of sorts playing the guitar and learning the blues. It seems to have carried over through the days. This morning, I woke up at 3am, wide awake. I laid in semi-consciousness as day started to break. Then I found myself on my yoga mat at 7am feeling a bit blue and displaced. Of course these moments are expected, and I’m lucky not to have them too frequently anymore. They have been there all along.

There I was horizontal on my yoga mat. A block was propped underneath my spine. My chest and arms were sprawled out. My mind was almost empty. And then there were flickers of thought. I won’t get into the vagaries of my mind and what Ekhart Tolle would call the “pain-body.”

I contemplated the dirt all around me. I think there is sand sticking to every part of my body. Do I have bed bugs or are these all mosquito bites? I’ve never seen my hair this matted against my face. My body has had enough carbs to last a lifetime. I haven’t eaten meat in at least a week but basically now for almost 6 weeks. I gave up coffee about a month ago. I don’t drink alcohol anymore. I am tired of saying hello and goodbye to people. Who is this person? And why is she so sanitized and so unproductive?

I’ve been in many hotels, met too many people, eaten too much sub-par food. I’ve been to the Google Flights site too many times. I have organized too much transportation and logistics.

Maybe I’m relaxing just a little too much. Me without a sense of striving and progression seems foreign. One could argue that I’m working on my self-development. There is some truth to the value of delayering and removing all those elements of ego. That seems to be my project for the moment. Why does working on yourself feel so crummy and aimless?

We sat in our sharing circle at 10am. My turn came, and all I could really say was that I am tired. Given that I’m staying in some shared barracks-like environment, I don’t even have a door to close and cry behind. (But I do have a hot pink mosquito net that might hide me if I wrap myself and curl up into a little curlicue.)

I feel sad because I don’t think I’m going back to NYC as a resident…maybe ever again. That makes me feel very unstable and out of control, even though I think it’s the right decision. I am moving out after being away for 7 months and while I’m not even there. In January, my friend takes over my lease, and in between, I will be arranging for my clothing and personal effects to be packed (or maybe I’ll buy a last-minute ticket back). This is my last chance to say my goodbyes while I still have a home in NYC. I miss my friends. I miss having an apartment. It feels momentous because it’s also the close of a big year for me.

And yet, I think there is a lesson in letting go.

(Now I just need to figure out a way to explain this move to people while I also explain that I also don’t really have 2017 planned at all either. Maybe I should look into shrinks who Skype too – lol that has a nice ring to it.)