On Re-Entry: Transitioning from Vacation to Work and the “Sunday Scaries”

It’s Monday, January 4th, 2021. The transition back to work-life begins after two weeks off and some mountain air.

I slept like shit — tossing and turning — not really resting. Anxious about everything and nothing all at the same time. That’s usually how it goes when it comes to Re-Entry.

“Re-entry: noun, the period of time between vacation and resuming work, often producing mixed emotions and heightened feelings of anxiety”.

Re-Entry comes in various forms for me. On a smaller level, it usually appears on Sunday afternoons around 3PM — I call it the “Sunday Scaries”. Like clockwork, Anni awakens and feels the need to prepare for Monday morning’s activities. (Unsure who Anni is? Check out my PARTS blog series). She worries and plots and schemes and is addicted to the Gmail app on my iPhone.

Please, she coos, Just one quick glance. An email or two. It won’t hurt you. I’ll calm down. Just need the fix.

She oscillates between speaking frantically, verging on mania, to speaking in a soothing, hypnotic, manipulative tone. She’s a woman of extremes — there’s no in between.

This morning, she’s on the manic side. If i’m being honest, she was probably awake all night — poke, poke, poking me with thoughts of things to do and people to talk to and ideas to manifest and deadlines to hit. I woke with a start at 830 AM, having slept through multiple alarms. The night owl must now transition back to the morning bee — no easy feat.

In my experience with Re-Entry, the first day is usually overwhelming no matter how many meetings you do or don’t have planned. Thus, I’ve learned not to schedule things — to schedule the least amount of shit and interaction possible. This morning, I’ve given myself a deadline to not look at emails or begin work until noon. Anni is not happy about it. Actually, in all honesty, she’s being a raging bitch. But so far, I’ve managed to keep her at bay.

After brushing my teeth and throwing on some leggings and a sweater, Penny and I begin our morning walk around Humboldt Park. The air is cold — the dirty Chicago snow half frozen on the sidewalks. My Sperry duck boots, more apt for rain storms than snow days, barely keep my feet warm. I don’t mind — feeling the chill in my toes keeps me grounded. After walking for 1.6 miles, getting my morning tea at Damn Fine Coffee Bar, and waiting for Penny to find the perrrrfecccctttt spot to pee — she’s incredibly particular and it can be incredibly frustrating — I return home. Slightly lighter, slightly more in touch with myself, slightly more awake, and significantly more caffeinated.

An internal battle ensues, and Anni and I wrestle for control. Stubborn and filled with New Year gusto, I tell her to chill out, and I begin my Morning Pages: three pages of stream-of-consciousness writing to clear my mind and start the day. (It’s the Artist’s Way 12-Week Program for spiritual creativity — If you’ve not done it, I’d highly recommend it).

A page and a half in, forcing myself to focus, I find myself here. Thinking about the New Year, inspired to write, Anni finding her breath a bit, calming. My Bose home speaker bellowing the “Productive Morning” playlist — the instrumental beats soothing.

For whatever reason, today’s Re-Entry feels particularly intense. In thinking about it, the answer seems obvious. The collective and personal trauma that was 2020 stirs-up dread with the new year: If all of that could happen last year, what will this year bring?

Hello, Anni. Welcome to my blog post. So glad you’re here and could infuse it with such optimism. How generous.

Gently nudging Anni aside, from a more empowered place, I can see that this feels like a big growth year for me. I’m working on expanding my team, leveling-up my leadership, accomplishing more, starting a family, and hopefully working less hours despite it all. At this particular moment, my ambitions are intimidating — perhaps that’s why Anni is so ramped up — but for the first time, I feel like I have a strong enough foundation to meet them and not kill myself in the process.

In looking forward to 2021, I’ve been toying with what word(s) to pick. The new year’s resolution game has never worked for me, and a client of mine shared that she picks one word to practice each year, to guide her. I love the simplicity of it, so I’d figure I’d try it on.

Currently, the top contenders are Joy and Voice. The former because Anni prefers the struggle, is addicted to it, and I’d like to break that shit up. Also, and more importantly, if I can’t be and find and encompass myself with Joy, what’s the point? The latter because Voice has been a consistent theme in my life — in both literal and metaphorical ways. On this I will expand, if just for a moment.

A childhood incident of forced-silence set-up an interesting dichotomy for me: I grew up swallowing down words and feelings and opinions for fear of punishment, unknowingly minimizing myself at every turn. Tangibly, this led to many night terrors. As a kid, I’d wake up screaming — often screaming for many seconds before I came to full consciousness. The reasoning was always the same: in my dream, I was in a seemingly benign situation, but couldn’t speak. The more I tried to speak, the more terrified I became. The words wouldn’t come, and, thus, the panic grew. The end result? Unconscious terror-screams in the middle of the night — god bless my parents.

While these experiences were tangible, the longer-lasting, more nuanced and complex symptom has been within myself. Among other things, Anni and the PARTS series is an exercise in re-claiming that voice. Specifically, re-claiming that voice outside of my career. Blogging is a part of it, speaking is a part of it, writing is a part of it — so many things are a part of it. It’s a constant exercise in returning to my center — finding my voice unencumbered and inspired and expressive, without the constant need for validation from others. I don’t believe I’ll ever fully arrive — but I believe the joy is in the consistent act of striving to get there.

In all honesty, I had a totally different intention when I started writing this blog post 30 minutes ago, but here we are.

So heading in to 2021, I’m claiming Joy and Voice as my words for this year. Perhaps even radical joy.

We’ll have to wait and see how Anni does with all of that.

What words will you claim for this year? What will give you access to a brighter, more creative, more powerful, more fully expressed version of you?

Thanks for reading, until next time.