It’s the end of a holiday

After much consideration, I’ve come to the realisation that while I love to travel, there is an optimal number of days where I can be away from my desk, happy and unconcerned. Step on that particular landmine though and BOOM! I’ll be in the throes of sadness for a while.

I’ll begin to check out destinations and short trips not taken. Beat myself up about a project I haven’t completed or just be frozen in fear: Will I ever have such a good time again?

It’s not that I hate my job — I spend my days doing what I love.

Upon return, I find myself wrapped in vines of envy — I envy those on vacation and worse, those who have returned refreshed. Why can I not handle my day-to-day life? I am tense about becoming too relaxed. What if I’ve lost the rhythm I had before I left? Life is always easier in hindsight.

With a deadly case of FOMO, usually I expend every effort to enjoy my holiday run:

Missing naps — check

Joining on the day of my return- check Working while I’m off — check

So when I’m back to the regular schedule I understand part of the wear and tear. And this time was meant to be a departure from the back-home-now-what? blues.

But then, here’s what happened:

I enter office and it’s time to skim expressions — a smile, a nod, a frown? Have I been missed or was it a good-riddance-to-bad-rubbish sort of thing?

The questions percolate into a throbbing of the brain cells. The light has begun to hurt my eyes. My palms are sweaty and breathing tough.

Fortunately a smile emerges and the fear abates. To be happy might take a while, but I suppose there’s always the prospect of another timeout.

— K.N.