The Aftermath
I love my friends and I love my life.
In general, I have a lot to be thankful of. That's why, no matter how many times I have experienced it and how long I have been aware of it and how much I brace for the impact, it's never not jarring that following a wonderful weekend packed with cool people and fun activities which I absolutely enjoyed, I would be drained to the bones the moment the last person leave.
Not wanting to see a soul for a while is fine. What I don't like is the wave of deep-seated yet unreasonable resentment and anger that would follow, undiscernible, indescribable. Voices telling me I've been too loud, too gregarious, too annoying, too overbearing. Voices telling me that I'm a disappointment and a failure. Everything would feel too much. Overwhelming urge to cry, which then would well behind eyes that don't know how to. It would eventually wash away, but in the meantime it has always been rough.
My true blessing in life is a constellation of good friends. They know when to give me space, they will tell me if anything I do or say bother them so I wouldn't have to guess. Heck, they know me well enough to notice signs of my meltdowns/shutdowns before I do sometimes. I don't want to take it for granted, especially after getting to see just what kind of company many people apparently have to live with.
I'm old enough and lucid enough to recognize that the voices are just twisted manifestation of my exhaustion, my brain's deranged form of notification that I have pushed my body enough and I would have to retreat and recharge. That's part of me talking, but not me me. It exists where all the fragments of reality composing my consciousness reside, but it doesn't speak of me as a whole.
I don't hate hate my body's response. I've learnt how to manage it more or less. I just wish my brain's idea of a recess bell is not slamming all the buttons and ring all the alarms at once. Time with friends is scarce and difficult as an adult, so I really do try to make use of whatever occasions we could have. Thing is, I have multiple circles to juggle, which could sometimes lead to a long string of days with no me time. I also tend to go overboard on whatever topic I fixate on in a given moment, which doesn't make it easier.
Anyway, this week's workshops went better than last week's. I've found that I still don't have the pencil miles to freely use unfamiliar tools, especially for a wild beast like watercolor. I strived to learn the instructors' methods so I could adapt them to my own, but it was really hard to avoid going your usual way. I like what I made in the last set of workshops though, and I got to see how other people translate class materials into their personal styles. Overall, a worthwhile decision, if not slightly financially irresponsible.
Now that everything is taken care of, time to enter hibernation mode.