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I’m not falling apart.
Let me start there.
It takes a lot for me to fall apart, and I am nowhere close to that. I’m functioning. I’m working. I’m showing up. I’m still extremely professional with my work. I’m not someone who lets that slip.
But I’m also not…lit up.
And that’s the part that’s confusing me.
I just went on one of my bucket list trips to Egypt. I was there for about 12 or 13 days, and it was incredible. Not one of those trips where I worked—because I travel a lot for work—this was a proper holiday. I was fully there.
I saw the pyramids. I literally stood near them, and I have photographic evidence. There I am, by the Pyramids of Giza. I saw the Sphinx. I cruised along the Nile. I saw the Red Sea. These are not small things. These are wait-your-entire-life-for-this things.
And I loved every second of it.
So, you would think that I would come back on a high, right? You would think I’d land at home, open my laptop, and feel this surge of inspiration.
Like, “Here’s me, world, let’s go!”
That, unfortunately, has not happened. Instead, I feel curiously deflated. Not depressed. Not sad. Not spiraling. Just…deflated.
And I don’t quite know why.
Let’s be clear: this is a good problem to have. To go to Egypt, check off literal bucket list items, come home safely and resume work without chaos—this is privilege. This is abundance. So I’m not complaining. I’m just noticing.
There’s something about coming back from something that big, something you’ve waited your whole life for, and returning to the ordinary rhythms of your days. The emails. The laundry. The grocery lists. The same desk. The same routines.
Maybe we expect inspiration to automatically follow awe. Maybe we think standing in front of ancient wonders should permanently rearrange us.
But what if it doesn’t?
What if you go, you see, you experience something extraordinary—and then you come home, and you are still you?
Still driven. Still capable. Still responsible.
But not electrified.
We talk about burnout. We talk about breakdowns and breakthroughs and transformation. But we don’t talk about the strange neutrality that can follow something monumental.
Maybe the deflation isn’t disappointment. Maybe it’s the quiet after something big. I guess even joy can overwhelm the nervous system. Even awe requires recovery.
All I know is that I don’t have a neat answer.
I just know I’m not falling apart, and I’m not on fire either. I’m somewhere in the middle.
And maybe real maturity is this: knowing that not every extraordinary experience is meant to ignite you. Some are simply meant to remind you that you’re alive.
And that is enough.
~
author: Roopa Swaminathan
Image: Author's own
Editor: Nicole Cameron
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