So, So, Tired

It’s 9:30am and all I can think about is sleep. My body calls out silently in its droopy, moaning wail. It calls and calls. But I must refuse. I must stave off. I must. I must. For the moment, my reasoning skills are surpassing my instinctual yearnings, but I doubt I can hold on. We arrived back home Monday morning after an 11 hour flight. Almost speedy by comparison to the 14 hour flight it took to get to Europe and the 16 hour flight between here and Chicago.

Perhaps the worst thing about international travel is the difficulty that can come with a significant change in time zones. While I have started to get used to this adjustment, it’s impossible. The drugged feeling of daily existence can stretch for a week or so after a big trip and can cast a complete sense of helplessness upon you.

I’d always known of jet lag, and even experienced it a couple of times myself, but I don’t think until the last year have I really begun to understand it, to see it, and to feel it. When Eric began traveling more internationally over the last year and a half, I became an observer of jet lag. I realized, perhaps a little too slowly, that my expectation for a jubilant greeting upon arrival home was perhaps unrealistic. Jubilation at the end of a long journey comes more easily in a smile than what we traditionally see in movies on TV. Mustering the energy to stand tall, keep eyes open, and in general to walk forward are all of more importance than the running hug, bouncing glee, or other Hallmark greeting moments. Now, I have learned to give space and allow for completely unexpected reincorporation affects for Eric, and in turn, for myself.

Take this trip for example, although Eric and I changed time zones at all the same times and largely were on the same waking and sleeping schedules in Europe, our schedules (or shhedules, as our British captain liked to repeat on our most recent flight) on getting home could not be much more different. We arrived in HK at about 7am on Monday morning. After customs, passport control, and the train ride home, it was about 9am. Neither Eric or I had slept on the flight so our bodies had been awake a long time and were feeling as if it were really 2am. Surprisingly, I felt pretty good and was more overwhelmed with work to do and mail that had arrived than the need for sleep. Eric crashed. 10am to 3pm. Lights off. For me, at 1pm, I lost it and slept until 3pm. Eric would remain awake from that point until about 8am today, a day later, and now is enjoying a 2 hour nap before a conference call. I fell asleep at 9pm last night and slept until about 4am and am now trying to hold off sleep until the afternoon. If I can make it until then, then I will have almost established a pattern. Nap in the afternoon. Sleep at night.

Must get pattern. Something. Please. That’s really what jet lag is. Lack of pattern. Adjustment.