I can say with 100% certainty that a thing exists called post-vacation stress disorder. I wish there wasn't, that it's possible to just waltz back into reality glowing and inspired. My first morning home, I woke up acutely aware of the expanse of life ahead of me that didn't include pina coladas made with fresh coconut milk. Some problems are harder to acknowledge than others.
No problems, however, are hard enough that a good vacation can't soften their blow.
We vacationed in the truest sense. We swam in Tulum, explored in Coba, sweated in Uxmal and swore in Merida. (It was a family vacation after all.) But we made it out in one piece- tanned, freckled, pink or otherwise. It's been a month since we've been back and I haven't recovered yet. Recovery is resignation and I'm going to stretch this withdrawal for as long as I can.