I can totally relate… Tears in my eyes as I read this thread. Completed my first Camino (the Frances) in early May of this year, returned to my formerly beloved apartment in a beautiful city I have always loved, but that suddenly feels like a stranger's place, filled with things that I don't need or want. I feel like a stranger in my old life. Like you, JoeCamino, I had no job to return to and had hoped to find on the Camino a burning bush or other way forward in my life, some kind of insight. It didn't work out that way, but I had an amazing time soaking up the beauty, communing with fellow pilgrims, enjoying the total freedom from responsibility and decision-making, and learning that my body could handle a 500-mile walk without injury. Mostly, it was an experience in being, rather than doing -- and, to paraphrase Mary Oliver, just "letting the soft animal of my body love what it loves" -- following my intuition, not planning ahead or making reservations, and not thinking much beyond the next meal. I have been profoundly sad since my return -- I find it difficult even to look at my 1800+ Camino photos, because it just reminds me of the loss of a time that was so joyful and free, and my life feels so empty and pointless now. I take a lot of very long walks these days, and that helps, but isn't the same. I miss living out of a small backpack, I miss the little yellow arrows guiding my way, I miss the friendly faces, magical synchronicities, and countless kindnesses from strangers that I was blessed with all along the Way. It seems obvious that the only cure is to return ... but sometimes I wonder whether this surprisingly painful withdrawal might suggest that perhaps the Camino is kind of an escapist fantasy? Is my sorrow in part an unwillingness to resume the responsibilities of "normal" adult life?