Home. Sort of.

I got back from China Thursday morning. Which means I've been spending the last two days recovering from jet lag, which really just feels like some alternate universe of transition between China and Here. I crash out around 3pm, then wake again around 8pm, then make myself get some sleep around 1 am, then wake up around 6am, soak, wash, spin. And all the while I feel completely unmotivated to do anything substantial.

There is a laundry shrine mocking me to dismantle it, if I dare. The floor needs vacuuming, the bathroom needs attending, and all the while all I am motivated to do is balance this tightrope of wanting to sleep and not being able to sleep.

I think it's harder to adjust when you stay at home and don't get out. I am going to try today to get out of the house for the majority of the day, in an effort to kick this once and for all. I even made plans this evening, in the hopes that my sheer willpower can keep me awake. A disco nap may be needed.

Next week I start therapy. Again. I thought I was done with therapy. I've talked about my background, my parents, my issues, my concerns, and ruminated over and over again with multiple therapists on and off for the last 15 years of my life. I am not thrilled at the idea that I still have work to do on this front. But, I go back because my doctor says so, and because I trust her and she has been right so far. And because the increasing stresses of my job have become gradually more difficult to manage. My responsibilities are constantly growing, my managers are not forthcoming in positive criticism (although everyone else I work with seems to have no problems with spreading the love), and the worst part is that I'm really just collecting a paycheck. This isn't what I want to be doing. What I want to be doing will not support my husband and I in any semblance of a decent lifestyle. Plus, I have this deep-down constant fear that I will never be hired again by a design firm because surely everyone can see through my ruse and tell that I have no idea what I'm doing, no skills at all, and make millions of mistakes. My husband calls this "impostor syndrome". I call it "motivation to go back to therapy".

I never got to see the baby mammoth. I searched but was pressed for time and never ended up finding it. Now I know where specifically it is (my cousin works in the building, so he graciously pointed out where I could find it) but couldn't find the time to actually go there. Hopefully it will still be there when I come back, in 3-5 weeks or so.

I did, however, go yachting. My cousin's friend / coworker invited a big group of us to join him on his yacht and sail around the HK harbor. We ended up in Clearwater bay, an aptly named spot, as the water was so clear you could see down 30 meters to the sand. Unreal. We swam, we ate a Pakistani Feast of awesome, we drank champagne and felt like rock stars. Well, I felt like a rock star. I don't have the lifestyle that involves yachting or marina clubs or entire weekends dedicated to the pursuit of lazy pleasure, so it felt perfectly luxurious to get to experience that for a day.