I've Lost My Way but I'm Coming Back
Sometime after San Cisco I asked Rachael for my phone back.
“I don’t have it. I gave it back to you during San Cisco.”
My heart dropped. “What? Are you serious?” We went back to the tent where San Cisco played and tried to find my phone but it was far too busy to find it. I spent the rest of the night depressed. It wasn’t so much that I lost my phone, it was that I was a drunk fucking idiot for losing it in the first place. Especially after dropping it so many times and having other people pick it up for me. After a couple hours, I was over it. I was over the festival and I was over myself.
Night had come and I was sitting on the grass on my own in the freezing cold trying to absorb some warmth from an outdoor heater. When it was time to leave the festival, we all went back to our accommodation. While everyone had gone to bed, I sat alone at the dining table, eating Rachael’s bland 2-minute gluten free noodles. I was disappointed in both myself and those stolen noodles.
The next day I hardly spoke to anyone. We cleaned up the place and by check out time, we were in our cars driving back home. A three-hour drive gave me plenty of time to reflect on who I’d become. I was no longer doing what I loved, I was partying to escape my workplace misery and I never wanted to do a repeat of that GTM weekend. For now, I was officially done with drinking and partying and festivals, and I knew I needed to find happiness within myself again.
To be continued . . .