Chapter 21: Stop and Smell Your Roses; The Retreat Hangover

"It is said that we must take the time to stop and smell the roses. What they don't tell you, is that YOU are the rose that you need to stop for the most. You are the rose that you must stop and love the most, you are that flower." - C. Joybell C.

I laid in bed on Monday night with tears streaming through my eyes. I had an amazing weekend where I got to catch up with some of my dear friends: Amy who I hadn't seen in several months, Krista for two outdoor concerts/shows on consecutive nights: Diana Ross at the Hollywood Bowl and Wayne Brady & Christopher Jackson at The Ford LA to support Marissa, and her nonprofit 4C Lab, and the Tupac Wake Me When I'm Free museum with Piper and her children. I returned to work on Sunday afternoon where I completed my tasks early enough that I was able to watch the newest House of the Dragon, the Game of Thrones spinoff series, before I went home. Normally, I would be grateful to have one of those experiences to look forward to on a given weekend, but I got to experience all of them in quick succession, and even squeezed in enough time to write a blog. When we had a weekly staff zoom meeting on Monday afternoon, we received news that we passed our recent Health Inspection, which we had stressed over and worked tirelessly with our DV clients to prepare for; our administrators didn't even expect us to pass. And my boss was waiting to receive confirmation before announcing some impending raises. Things were as good as they've been prior to my bout with depression to begin 2022. So why was I crying like my world was falling apart and barely hanging on by a thread?

Tangent: Back when I was a consistent [Protestant] churchgoer (pre-2008 and Prop 8 in CA where gay marriage was temporarily banned and my subsequent departure from the Korean church), first as a high school student and then later as a college aged bible study teacher, I was introduced to the concept of the "retreat hangover".  Church retreats were these semi-annual getaway weekends where we went to some retreat center or camp site, invited a guest speaker (it was usually a peer or mentor from the Youth Pastor's seminary program), engaged in fellowship, worship, prayer, and reflection. As someone who didn't go on many family vacations, nor particularly enjoy the ones I did go on, these church retreats were my vacations. It was where I got out of my introverted shell, bonded with, and became friends with other churchgoers. My home church was so small that they combined the middle school, high school, and college group that were home on break into one trip and I developed weekend crushes on the more mature college coeds. The phenomena of the retreat hangover is that many kids experienced this spiritual high during the retreat and come back charged and ready to devote their lives to Christ. But once they returned to their homes, their schools, and daily routines, their spiritual enthusiasm would quickly fade and some would experience a "crisis of faith" where they seemed to backtrack and end up worse than they began. 

Was this my retreat hangover? I had a similar experience after my Vegas trip several weeks before. The moment I returned to my daily routine, those joyous experiences felt like distant memories. My loneliness returned, if only I could have eked out a few more minutes with my friends. Did they know how much I missed them? How long before I'll see them again? Why didn't I say more? The realization that those curated experiences and highs weren't sustainable, my wallet certainly can't afford going to multiple shows and/or dinners every weekend. And I'm not sure if I could physically sustain it, as evidenced by me somewhat dangerously zoning out during my work commute on Monday. I would like to blame turning 40 on my decreased social battery, but it's really "adulting" that absorbs most of my battery life. And just like an older model of iPhone, this MF needs to be charged several times a day. 

"You wanna know which ring is my favorite? The next one." - Tom Brady 

*Just because I used a Tom Brady quote, this isn't some endorsement of Brady or fandom for his teams. I haven't forgotten the shot of a MAGA hat hanging in his locker room, so he and his Superbowls can kindly f*ck off.*

Stop and smell the roses. How many times have we seen it, heard it, said it? I struggle sometimes putting this concept into practice. Our minds are designed to make comparisons and measure ourselves with other people's timelines. Maybe that's why it's hard for me to be remain present. We are socialized to be never rest on our laurels, there's always the next thing. The next benchmark that measures our worth, that validates everything we work tirelessly for. What's now? What's next? You got your dream job. Great. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? How high can you climb the corporate ladder (before you reach your glass ceiling)? Your child graduated high school and got into college. Amazing! You must be so proud as a parent. What's next? What's their major going to be? Where will they intern? What career path will they choose? You joined a gym and lost 10 pounds. Wow, you look great. What's your target weight? When is that Simu Liu 6-pack coming in? You found your Prince (or Princess) Charming. Congratulations. Are you planning on having children? How many? 

It's the "Mamba Mentality" right? You're supposed to constantly set new goals because there's no final destination. It's the measure of excellence and greatness. But that's the problem with the grind mentality. You grind against the grindstone so that you can be the sharpest tool you can be, but if you don't stop you eventually grind into a stump. As much as Social Media may celebrate the Mamba Mentality (at least my algorithm), Kobe worked tirelessly on his craft winning championships and hitting improbable buzzer beaters until his body literally broke down with a torn achilles and he limped toward his final years in his playing career, getting blown by younger players with a fraction of his dedication and drive. I'm tired just thinking about it. 

Excuse me while I go lay down for a bit... 

... Okay I'm back. 

Self-actualized people stop and smell the roses - they appreciate each positive or joyful moment - a sunrise, a partner's kiss, a child's laugh - as if it were the first, no matter how many times they've already experienced it. 

I woke up the next morning to the pitter patter sounds of my puppy Nomah playing with one of his many toys. Afterwards, I brewed some coffee and put a bagel in the toaster. While waiting for my own breakfast, I poured a styrofoam cup full of dog food into Nomah's bowl. I don't know if it's a dog thing or just my needy puppy, but he likes an audience when he eats. He'll tentatively eat a few pebbles of his dog food and then look up for a sign of approval. Once he gets that affirmation, he'll proceed to inhale the rest of his food like he's a furry vacuum cleaner. After I finish my breakfast and glass of almond milk, I pour my coffee and sit at the coffee table. Nomah will jump on the couch and sit next to me, sometimes bringing his toy with him. The way he rests his body against my leg and tilts his head back, signaling for me to scratch his belly. At some point he knows that I'm going to pick him up and inspect his body to see if there are any fleas. After he passes the flea inspection, he goes limp as I sit him on my lap and nuzzle my cheek against his. When I finish drinking my coffee, I quickly go upstairs to wash my face and brush my teeth before taking Nomah for his walk. At some point I will get annoyed with him for crawling into the hedges, stopping to inspect another dog's poop (that their owner neglected to pick up, definitely a pet peeve of mine), and threatening to eat random discarded food that may or may not cause him diarrhea. As much as I want to hurry these walks so I can quickly shower and begin my day, this daily routine with Nomah has become my rose. It's the innocence and simplicity to which a puppy experiences his routine that offers a freshness that I often miss in my own schedule.

Stop and smell the roses. I took inventory of my mental health this week and decided that I'm at a 7 out of 10. I made the distinction that those moments of sadness and emptiness I continue to feel are depression and anxiety but no longer thoughts of suicide. I stopped to smell the moments over the weekend I was able to see and celebrate my friends. I reached out to my mentor on her birthday and sent her a happy birthday text, to which she responded that she missed me and we'll hopefully schedule coffee or lunch soon. It's the fragrance of having some incredible people in my life. I stopped to smell and admire my desire to create and self-express. I can smell the fragrance of cleared space for more creative energy: in the form of sketching (so excited by the inspiration for this latest sketch I'm working on), this blog, and starting a podcast this week. I stopped to smell that more and more areas in my life are in alignment with my values, my priorities, and my desires.

Now that my "retreat hangover" has worn off, my sinuses are clear again. I like the rose (damaged petals, thorns, and all) that I am creating. It has a fragrance that smells like home. And it is perfectly imperfect in its beauty.

Portrait Photography: https://www.zacharyleeportrait.com