The Camino de Santiago is often described as life-changing, but there's a phenomenon many pilgrims experience after they return—what some call the "Post-Camino Blues" or "Post-Camino Depression." You’ve spent weeks walking across beautiful landscapes, embracing simplicity and connection, and then, suddenly, you’re back in the whirlwind of modern life. It feels jarring, right? But maybe it’s not just nostalgia for the Camino. Maybe there's something more profound going on.
Here’s what I think: the Camino is a kind of hyper-reality. It's not your ordinary reality—it’s more vivid, more immersive. Everything feels intensified—the emotions, the experiences. It’s like you’re living in a world where things have purpose, where every step has meaning.
On the Camino, the usual noise of everyday life fades away. The constant demands, the schedules, the multitasking—it’s all gone. Instead, you wake up with a singular focus: get to your next destination. It's like being in a game. There's a clear path, a rhythm, a goal. Every day you wake up, walk, eat, and find a place to sleep. Simple, right? But in that simplicity, there's a kind of freedom. You’re living out of a backpack, choosing your meals, and making decisions that meet your needs for that day. There’s something incredibly liberating about that.
And because everything feels new—the people, the experiences, the emotions—it’s all heightened. It's like Disneyland, but for the soul. The Camino strips life down to its basics, but it intensifies the experience of each moment. That's why it’s hard to leave. After weeks of walking with one clear purpose, after feeling every new connection and challenge deeply, going back to your normal life feels... messy. That sharp focus, that simplicity, is gone, replaced by the clutter of daily routines.
And here’s another thing: walking for hours outside is good for you—physically, mentally, emotionally. Being out there, breathing the fresh air, moving your body, and just being present—it’s incredibly healthy. On the Camino, that becomes your norm. Your body feels stronger, your mind clearer, and you’re more connected to the world around you.
Then there's the certainty. No matter the weather, no matter how you’re feeling, you know you’ll wake up each day and put one foot in front of the other. That certainty—waking up with a clear purpose—gives you momentum. You also get little rewards along the way, like collecting stamps in your pilgrim credential, which serve as reminders of your progress, both physical and emotional.
But here's the thing—beyond the stamps and the physical journey, the Camino meets so many of our basic human needs. It gives us connection and love through the people we meet, certainty in our daily routines, variety with new experiences, a sense of significance by overcoming challenges, and opportunities for contribution in sharing our stories. We tend to be more open on the Camino, more vulnerable. That creates deep connections in a short span of time.
No wonder the Camino can be addicting. It meets many of our core needs—ritual, variety, love, connection—and gives us a sense of purpose. People return again and again because the daily rhythm, combined with the variety of people, landscapes, and emotions, offers balance, introspection, and joy.
But when you come back home, the contrast is sharp. That deep sense of purpose, connection, and variety disappears, and daily life feels hollow. This is where the "Post-Camino Blues" sets in. It’s not just the act of walking that you miss—it’s the emotional and spiritual rewards that came with it.
Trying to replicate that at home can feel... empty. Walking through your neighborhood, it’s like you’re going through the motions, but the deeper meaning is missing. On the Camino, every step felt like it was part of something larger, pushing you forward physically, spiritually, emotionally. At home, without that overarching sense of meaning, it can feel like you’re just... stuck.
On my most recent Camino, I spent a lot of time thinking about how I could bring some of that joy back into my everyday life. Fitness was a huge part of the Camino for me, and I decided to keep that going when I returned. Walking for hours, staying active, paying attention to my physical health—that didn’t need to end just because the Camino was over.
The first time I walked the Camino, though, was the hardest to leave. I came back feeling lost. But instead of falling into depression, I made a decision: I was going to shape my world around the things that brought me joy on the Camino. And that’s something we all can do. If your reality isn’t fulfilling you, change it. It’s simple, but it’s true. You can declutter your schedule, step back from social media, move, switch jobs—whatever you need to do to create a life that resonates with what you value most.
The Camino may be a hyper-reality, but its lessons don’t have to stay there. We can take the pieces that brought us happiness, purpose, and clarity and integrate them into our daily lives. Instead of longing for the Camino, we can use it as a catalyst to create a life we don’t need to escape from.
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