Although the last couple of weeks became eventful, I struggled to find a picture fit to capture it all. Ivy’s skeptical gaze last Thursday when I returned from my first day back to work seemed the best bet.

Just as I struggled at the beginning of the furlough to capture how it felt to suddenly not have work, right now I am struggling to describe what it is like to be back. In some ways, it is like we were never gone. The pace and pressure seem to have been waiting and have resumed in full force; and, even in this short time, I am struggling to get through the work of my hours in order to tend to the labor also required of me.

My time walking the woods, basking in the beautiful breezes and colors of a truly gorgeous October absolutely replenished and refreshed me. It gave me the time and space to read and think and write in a way that gave me energy and hope. Jumping back into work, back into the pace of work, and of the world is like the shock of jumping into a frozen lake. My breath is momentarily taken from me. I’ve felt it all day, even as the ability to connect with students and colleagues provides me with a different kind of energy. This first full week back is definitely a challenge. I am sure I am not the only one to feel grateful to be back and wary and exhausted at the same time. I am hopeful, though, that the fatigue I feel here in the middle of it is only momentary.

During furlough, lighting my candles and incense, writing in my journal, and walking through the woods I learned to pause and listen to myself again. Already, in my time back, I have felt the pressure to simply move from task to task, and to let those tasks expand beyond work into my time. This week, I’m resisting that urge by remembering to listen to myself, follow my instincts to take some risks, and listen when my body says, “Enough, tonight requires candles and a bath.” (And a quick post to stay in the habit.)