It's 3 AM. Do You Know Where Your Pants Are?

I've been taking Isshin-Ryu Karate since I was nine years old. *stares blankly at the ten year mark*
It's something that's become an integral part of me. The techniques, the kata, the way every move you make feels like you're holding back some unstoppable force--That's not something I don't ever want to lose.
The teachers and students at my dojo have come and gone, but the ones who stayed have become a second family to me. The head sensei is like an absentminded uncle, the younger female senseis like my aunts and older sisters, and the older male students are like...well....punching bags. What hurts the dojo hurts me.
My college crew team's fall season ends in a week. Usually, around this time I'd plunge right back into the dojo, teaching classes and learning some new black belt katas.
But.
Recently there's been some trouble. As a nonprofit dojo with impossibly impeccably high standards, we don't much business anyways. Now we've gotten into a slump. Classes are empty, people are involved with their own thing, and the head sensei? Well he's getting old and even more absentminded.
Now it hurts to go back. Everything's old and run-down and dark and empty. One of the younger female senseis has taken on all the classes, along with her own workload.
I don't know what to do.