For the better part of last week I considered not going to Burning Man.
Yes, my son is the reason for this contemplation.
I know he’ll be fine.
And I know he’s going to be busy with his friends paying me no attention whatsoever, but still.
He’s my baby.
Truth be told, I’m not worried about him as much as I’m worried about me.
This whole head surgery business has got me stressed out (unsurprisingly).
I’m having trouble sleeping.
My anxiety levels are THROUGH THE ROOF.
And overall, I feel a little unbalanced.
Not EXACTLY the best mental state to be in when going to Burning Man.
I could literally lose it on playa and be a burden to my campmates.
And that’s not cool.
In 2016 I went to Burning Man a little off center and by the time it ended, I was a bitchy little thing.
That’s what 12 days in the desert will do to me apparently.
Even though I’m only looking at 10 days in the desert this time, I’m still nervous about holding it all together.
Burning Man is a seething cauldron of emotions and excitement.
Adventure and relaxation.
You never know what will bubble to the surface.
In the end, I decided that I will go to the Burn this year.
Not because I’m feeling better or have a better handle on my mental health going in, but because I figure I won’t be the only person going to Burning Man a few cans shy of a six-pack.
I’ll be in good company!