It’s hard to believe that in just a few days I will be back at work again. I haven’t seen that place or any of my coworkers or friends in over eight weeks and the idea of seeing them again Monday morning is making me feel increasingly excited, anxious, and afraid. I’m trying not to think about it though. When I do the guilt over not doing or accomplishing more than I have these past few months.
I keep trying to remember that no one expected anything from me but me, that it’s okay I took this time to rest and to sometimes do nothing, and, that considering how quickly and dramatically the world changed there was no way to properly plan or emotionally prepare for a long time away from work and in isolation. I did what I could, and that is good enough.
So tonight, instead of trying to get back to my old sleep habit and routine, I’m staying up late and having a few drinks with my wife. I’ve decided to be even less productive than I have been and to focus on myself for the next few days. No writing. No reading. No big projects. Just doing whatever I feel like for theses next few days. I’ll get back to work when I have to, and not a second before.