Sunday, December 18, 2011 at 8:02AM | Amy C Re-Entry: Coming Home After an Adventure
Have you ever wondered what happens after an adventure? Or maybe you’ve experienced it and this post will resonate on some level.
This is what I call the process of re-entry. The adventurer has returned from a long trip or expedition where they’ve been immersed in a different culture, or been offline, with not outside contact in the remote backcountry for weeks.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately and am convinced that we’re missing a valuable part of the conversation about adventure.
The outdoors holds valuable life lessons and experiences—the longer we’re out there, the more profound these lessons and internal changes can be.
There’s a lot of focus on the build-up to a big adventure, but there aren’t a lot of conversations about the aftermath.
How do we integrate these changes into our daily lives? How do we harness the newfound strength we’ve discovered when we return to our previous environment, around people who may not realize or see these changes? Or don’t want to?
Here’s a quick overview of the situation as I see it:
pre-adventure
There’s a ton of build-up to a big adventure, with lots of information available to help with the training, packing and general preparation.
Think about a trip oversees to climb Kilimanjaro. Or a first marathon. Or a year spent living on the road traveling around the country.
If it’s you heading on this adventure, it might feel like the world revolves around it. It’s what you talk about with your friends. You’re hyper-focused on your training and making sure you have just the right gear. There’s support for nervous energy, encouragement and reassurance that it’ll be wonderful and that you’ll succeed.
If it’s a friend, you can see the excitement in their eyes and the extra bounce in their step. There might be some anxiety and stress creeping in with the unknown, but by and large, it’s a contagious, positive energy.
the adventure
Then there’s The Adventure itself. The experience is amazing. Life-changing for some. New strengths are discovered. Confidence grows. The world is suddenly full of possibility and opportunity.
If you’re a friend, you think about the adventurer, but you’re home in your routine, caught up in daily life.
post adventure: the re-entry
And finally, the homecoming. The re-entry process begins. There might be a trip report with photos and highlights. Slideshows are shared. A few stories told. But then... silence.
What happens in the aftermath of an adventure? Where does all that energy go? The momentum? How do we talk to our friends who are genuinely interested, but might not want to hear about the famine you witnessed, or hear a play-by-play of the perseverance you never knew you had as you slogged up to the summit for hours in gale force winds. The astonishment that you’d made it. The clarity with which you witnessed your own strengths.
There is an emotional rawness around adventure and hardship. Of pushing yourself to your limits and breaking through—or not. It can be difficult to articulate the emotions that are in constant flux around the adventure. Elation, depression, joy and disconnectedness. It can be confusing and hard to understand yourself, much less finding the right words to convey this to another.
changing the way we talk about adventure
Like I said, I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.
Not only because I’m experiencing a lot of these emotions and feelings personally as I re-enter a life-in-one-place after over two years of traveling and living out of either a suitcase or van, but because I think there’s something really important missing in how we talk about adventure.
I’ve had a number of conversations with mountaineering guides (and want to talk to more, so if that’s you, please contact me to chat) about what they and their clients have experienced. And I’ve talked with some of those clients personally as well.
I wanted to share with you guys what I’m learning and what my thoughts are about what we can do. I know I want to help bridge this gap. I want to help find ways to integrate the profound experiences and lessons the outdoors has to offer—whether it’s a 6-month expedition or a one day rock climbing clinic—with how we live our daily lives.
And I believe the first thing we have to do is talk about it. To share our stories and experiences of what helped and what was difficult. What kind of support we received and what would have been helpful.
Below, I’ve complied a few examples of the experiences I’ve heard about.
example of post-adventure experiences:
- A feeling of disconnection from the “old” life. Meaning that when they came back, they returned to their old environment, but had experienced such significant internal shifts during the trip, that they no longer identified—or wanted to identify—with their old routines.
- Prior to the trip, they’d felt a vague sense that “something” needed to change, but they didn’t know what. On the trip, they gained clarity and upon return, quit their job or filed for divorce (or initiated some other form of a major life change).
- A strong feeling of depression or withdrawal. After such build up and momentum, it’s natural to feel somewhat depressed or sad after meeting a goal. (I experienced this myself after my first marathon.) But after a major shift in thinking or perspective on life, it’s more challenging to “bounce” back and these feelings of depression or withdrawal can linger.
- A strong sense of focused energy and inspiration to start a project or make changes. There’s often a ton of momentum and a commitment after returning to begin a new project, or new habit. To set things in motion that you thought about during the trip. If it’s not harnessed soon after the trip, momentum can fizzle and depression or discouragement can creep in.
- A lack of words/vocabulary to explain the depth of the experience. This was especially true for those experiencing profound changes in thought process. Finding the right words to articulate the changes they were feeling can be tricky.
- Disillusionment with friends and colleagues. The adventurer seeks deeper, more meaningful conversations about the experience, yet others may have a hard time relating to it, preferring to return to more comfortable topics.
- Feelings of isolation. After a group expedition, staying in touch with other members of the team was an important aspect in helping to stay connected. But as time wore on, after photos had been exchanged and the initial excitement post-adventure wore off, conversations began to slow down as everyone returned to their respective lives.
I should note that all of these conversations were with women (and I’d guess the experiences and modes of adjusting are different between the genders), but the core question remains: How can we support our family, friends, colleagues, and ourselves upon returning home?
If you have thoughts, ideas, observations of your own (male or female), please leave a comment or contact me directly. I’m really curious to hear and learn more.
Question: What are your experiences with re-entry?
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Reader Comments (14)
I have to say this has been one of the most interesting views I've read on post - adventure scenarios. I agree, there is definitely more to the transition after having returned from such a journey. I would equate the feeling to that of when the credits start rolling at the movie theater. Your mind struggles to understand, rationalize, and take in everything you've just experienced, all the while knowing that you're about to walk out of the theater and back into real life.
I have been going on week-long fishing trips to lake Kabinakagami in Canada with my family for over a decade and my grandfather frequented the same cabin growing up. The lake is remote and we have to flying in on a turbo otter with pontoons every year. There is enough electricity with our little generator run the one fridge in the camp site, and that does it for amenities. We filter/boil water, use a hole in the ground for a latrine, hang our shower from a tree, and pray every night that a bear doesn't ransack our cabin, (one year we were not so lucky, different story for a different post). And every year, I find myself struggling to hold on to the feelings I have while in camp, on the flight back to civilization. There is something about the civilized world that seems to sap that magic right out of you, and I often find myself with disdain for it and the excess of the western world that has come to define it. All it takes is one blurp on the radio about some celeb and their personal issues, and I'm over it.
I believe this feeling is inherent in the way that man constantly seeks to distance himself from nature and the natural world in general. We love feeling so above all of the supposed mindless animals and inconveniences of bush life, as if by casting these things aside we are some how elevated. Alas, eventually we all succumb to the normality of modern life and are inevitably assimilated back into society.
I agree that talking about these feelings, especially with those who were not there, is challenging to say the least.
However, I take comfort in this. These unique experiences and the desire to have more, to extend these feelings we are trying to describe, is the essence of the drive that keeps us searching, exploring, and going on new adventures year in and year out. Although I love regaling friends and family about the exciting and sometimes mundane portions of each journey, I find it far more satisfying to simply add new followers to my cause. To encourage those around you to take a step outdoors, a leap of faith, and go on that adventure or journey they've been putting off, to experience the rest of the world. I can only hope that they experience this same feeling that we so desperately try to convey, and in doing so, add others to the cause. I think this is how we can better ourselves and those around us upon returning home. Spread the fever, the need ,and the desire to experience more from life.
John,
Thank you for such a thoughtful comment. Your weeks fishing in Canada sound absolutely wonderful. You make a great point, too, about using these experiences to seek out more. To continue to search and explore.
I find that people who've experienced this tend to be more in tune with themselves and the bigger picture (and aren't so caught up in a celebrity's marital status). And when I hear about someone going on a transformational adventure for the first time, I cheer them on and realize that their life has very likely been altered in beautiful and significant ways. And more often than not, the first doesn't become the only.
It's when these experiences then get pushed back, as assimilation occurs, and daily life is resumed, that I want to address. I want to help harness the motivation and inspiration to live bigger and connect the two worlds a little closer. To support the changes that can occur in life because of the experience, such as a career change to something more meaningful or a long-overdue divorce from an unhealthy relationship after finding the confidence and strength during these experiences.
"Spread the fever, the need, and the desire to experience more from life." YES! I love it.
By coincidence, I posted some thoughts on a similar topic earlier today.
You're right; re-entry is key. Adventurers often pay precious little attention to coming home well. I'd go even further:: a trip that doesn't change your "real life" is a wasted trip. Your life "out there"--on the road, on the trail, on the crag--should bleed into your life back home.
In my blog post, I wrote this:
Your "post-adventure" examples run along these lines. You can never really come back to the life you left. Trying to do so leads to the isolation, disillusion, disconnection, and depression you mention above. Better to accept the fact that you've changed, then build a life around your new values.
I think you hit the nail on the head for me here. After TheMostEpicTrip I pretty much felt all of the things above; depression, disconnection, motivation, isolated.
I got depressed when I realized the trip was over and I did not know the next time I was going to be able to travel like that and see this great country. I felt really disconnected from the outside world during the trip which felt great, but when I came back, a part of me did not fit in. People did/do not understand why I did what I did, and it really is impossible to convey in the right words of what happened. This brought on a feeling of isolation. Feeling like the only person who got me was me. And finally motivation. After it ended, sitting in Salt Lake, I got motivated to start a business because I knew having my own business was the only way that I could really live the way I wanted to live.
I think that for some, a trip like that can be detrimental to future life and for others it can be a big boost of confidence that is brought on by huge changes (almost an overhaul) in the persons personality, values, and thoughts. Someone that I had not seen in 6 months saw me last week at the bar and had mentioned how it seemed I had changed recently. They couldn't figure out what exactly but that I had some big change in personality. I like to think it was confidence because I can feel my confidence. I mean c'mon traveling/surviving 6 months in a car/tent, that's pretty good!
The trip was amazing. I have changed dramatically because of it and I wouldn't change a thing from then on.
Matt,
Thanks for your thoughtful and articulate comment. And thanks for sharing the link to your post - we're definitely on similar wavelengths here. And I think your last sentence is dead on: "Better to accept the fact that you've changed, then build a life around your new values."
I think we all strive for this, yet it's easier said than done, right? The pull of the "norm" is strong. Really strong.
Thanks so much for stopping by. Great input.
Hi Steve.
Great to see you here. Six months on the road is huge. I'm so glad to have met you during the experience. And look forward to seeing you again soon and see this difference you feel... we met you at the beginning and I know y'all had some amazing experiences between Smith and now. :)
Congratulations on starting a business. Can't wait to hear more. Thank you for sharing your insights and observations. Good to know I'm not crazy. :) For me, the first month after the adVANture was the hardest and I'm still adjusting.
Amy-
Andy showed this post to me this morning; I know we've talked a bit on another post about the feelings of coming back from something like this. It's difficult to put into words, but I tried:
During The Most Epic Trip, the closer I came to realizing that my return to "civilization" was imminent, the more I grew uneasy with settling down and becoming part of the urban world again. It's been two weeks since being back and I'm dealing with the woes that come from living in a capital city- smog, traffic, apartment life and the general buzz that constantly surrounds me. I feel the constant need to escape.
Basically, I can't settle in. I feel a constant need to be doing something, to be busy, to be creating or cleaning or whatever. And I just realized this- I'm sure it was driving Steve (above) crazy. But I think I just realized why. When we were on the trip, we were constantly doing something. Even if we were just taking it easy in the hammock, we were experiencing the trip. But really, it was usually more movement than that- we were always discovering, always traveling, always learning, always organizing, always writing, photographing, taking videos, meeting people, cooking, hiking, climbing, etc... we were always doing something. The return to a stable environment is very unsettling for me and I just realized that I am in hyperactive mode, feeling like things need to get done, need to be finished, etc. But when I was on the trip, it was all enjoyable because it was all part of a larger experience. Back in this city- it's all busy work. I'm rushing towards nothing. Not in a negative way- it's just the comparison between the trip and "home" brings me to realize that the trip's activities held so much meaning to me, whereas here I'm not getting the same satisfaction, so perhaps it has been subconsciously driving me to do more. Like someone hooked on drugs who doesn't get the same "fix" as they once did so they up their intake.
I, too, feel isolated- like Steve said. I haven't felt like no one understood where I was coming from because I know he did as well as people that we met on the trip, like you and Bracken and a few other friends. And I am so very grateful to be able to talk about this with others that I know do understand. It's like rehab. =)
Anyway, those are my rambling thoughts on the matter. One day I'll do a trip like this again- and not "one day" in a wishful way- but in a determined it-will-be-done manner. It's in my blood now and I'm sure it will be throughout my life. Happy for that! =)
Gina!
I totally hear you. The being still after the constant movement can be really unsettling. Give yourself time and keep talking about it. Also... would it help to think about being back as a new adventure? Observing the disconnection and speed as something you can better understand and do something about now that you've experienced it differently on the road?
I'm totally with you on the 'projects.' I have been ticking things off and addressing all the 'to-dos' that I've had on my list for years. It feels good, but man do I miss the road!
Thanks for sharing your thoughts and experiences. I think it's really helpful to understand the unique, and more similar, aspects of transitioning back to "ordinary" life, as it were.
Amy, just finished a little post with your blog linked to it. I'm surprised what I learned just from writing my own comment. Thanks for being the forum to do that in.
Since writing it, I talked to another friend that I knew before the trip who also is quite the traveler. We were able to hang out in Canada and this is the first time we've talked on the phone since then. She knew I was having a bit of a hard time and wanted to talk. It was really refreshing to hear from someone else the same feelings that I have been having since coming home. When she expressed them, I found myself saying- Me too! Oh my gosh, me too! Just like I did when you and I first met on the trip and Steve and I thought we were doing things all wrong. You & Bracken may have saved our trip that day. ;)
Yes, this is certainly a new adventure. It's different than one I choose, but that's the beauty- I just have to create it into one I choose. That's what I'm striving for now. I'm just glad I'm not alone out there in figuring out where my life is going post-trip. ;)
I think I'm too much of a city girl/weekend warrior. For me, coming home from a 3 week trip is pretty much the same thing as I do every weekend... dump the gear out to dry, start a load of laundry, appreciate having a roof to sleep under and not having to ###ing drive anywhere tomorrow...
Gina,
I saw your post. Glad I could help guide you to more insights. :) And happy to hear you were able to commiserate and work through your experiences with a friend who understands. Keep me posted on what's next for you.
Laurel, Great to see you here. Thanks for the comment.
Too true! As much as I miss the road, having some of those key conveniences (i.e., an oven, roof, indoor plumbing) are really nice.
I think the re-entry experience depends on the person (obviously) and the expectations. There are a lot of folks I've talked to who weren't expecting to experience the profound changes they did. And I also heard that the more you do it, the easier that re-entry becomes.
Would love to hear more thoughts from others on this. Is the re-entry easier the more you experience it? Or is there always something new to integrate and adjust to?
Maybe it's because I've never been on an "adventure", it's just a part of my life. I didn't feel like i needed to make a huge change in my life before the trip so I didn't really expect to be a different person when i got back, so i'm not disappointed that i'm not (beyond constantly being a different person :)).
Or maybe i just havent done anything big enough! For sure I've never lived in a van for a year!
Maybe I tend to not see the "bad" in "good" things (to drastically oversimplify what you're talking about) like I'm supposed to, but I also don't see the good in bad things. For example, I am not at all grateful for having cancer like it seems every other cancer survivor says...
Laurel - I hear you. I believe everyone experiences re-entry differently based on their previous experiences (whether they've been out of the country before, on an expedition, etc.), their expectations, and what they experience on the trip. For you, the phrase that sticks out most to me is, "it's just a part of my life." So it totally makes sense that there's not a huge shift in perspective once you came home.
And I don't think there's a prescribed way we have to feel anything (to comment on the word "supposed"), good or bad. Or label an experience either or both ways. I am definitely glad to hear you're a survivor and don't think it's at all weird that you wouldn't be grateful for having had cancer. From what I understand, it pretty much sucks. There are many ways to see and view the world. I love that there's so many variations... makes life and people much more interesting. :)