Coming home is the hardest gig

Nobody warns you about this part.

You've been on the road for six weeks. Every night, hundreds of people cheered. Every day had a shape: lobby call, drive, load-in, soundcheck, show, load-out, bus call. You were never alone. Then the tour ends, you drag your suitcase into your apartment, and... nothing. No day sheet. No show at 9pm. Your body still wakes up at 11am and feels wired at 2am. Your friends' lives kept going without you. And for a week or two, you feel flat, irritable, oddly sad.