Dealing with the drop

The dreaded 'drop' is something I've had to get used as a major downside of all these great weekends. Not only my own drop but everyone else's around me. On Sunday evening after many friends had departed and there were only a few of us left we all dropped collectively while out for dinner. Struggling to make conversation, trying not to think about the ever nearing Monday.

And when we got back to the house I found myself faced with re-packing my case with so much less enthusiasm than it had been originally packed. The tears came suddenly, taking me by surprise. I was very glad to be alone. While the logical side of me knew it was just a release that I needed, I'm very shy about crying in front of people outside of a scene.

Happily exhaustion soon claimed me from feeling sorry for myself and I collapsed into bed, knowing that would be the worst of the drop for me. For I have discovered a way around it: sheer exhaustion.

Most of these weekends I return to Dublin at the crack of dawn, heading straight into work. It means I'm barely awake enough to function at a physical level, let alone at an emotional one. Having to go straight into work and put on the responsible, grown-up hat while fighting the tiredness as another manic day claims me. Then to home and write and write until I feel sated, before collapsing into bed again.

It meant that by the time today rolled around I was delightedly musing over the weekend and giggling at the goings on, ruefully surveying the marks and bruises and flying high again!