When the email arrived in my inbox a few weeks ago about returning to the office (from a manager who had been there throughout the pandemic), it wasn’t a ‘come in if you feel like it.’

The vibe was more, see you at 8.30am on Monday. And honestly, I was ready to get out of stretch pants and into some structured clothing. I was looking forward to seeing colleagues with their legs included. And not having to navigate the network on a laptop. ‘Yes,” I thought to myself. ‘This is going to be great!’ 

But what I forgot about was the unrelenting focus on working… at work. With so many boundaries blurred at home, I had extended my work hours and found a kind of ebb and flow that worked. I would take a run at a task, tap out for a bit and deal with (insert home school, housework, exercise, relax) and then get back to it. Then hit repeat. The rhythm suited me. The days were longer but less draining. And I felt like it left space to be more creative in many ways. And achieve more balance.  

On that first day, the thing that hit me as I tried to look normal at my desk was the glare of the fluorescent lighting. As if on auto-pilot, I opened my drawer to find a trusty stash of pain-killers. I popped a few for good measure. Next came the dry-eye (ah, air-conditioning, you dehydrating minx). And then there was my complete and utter inability to not obsess about food and when it would next be consumed. At home, my appetite was not even a thing. In this environment, my stomach was growling by 10am and I was coaching myself to hold out until 12.01 for lunch. ‘You do not need a toastie,’ I kept telling myself. But my God, I really really did.

I’m ashamed to say it, but by late afternoon I was watching the clock. An email from a kindred-spirit popped up in my inbox: “55 minutes to go [sleepy face]” And so we volleyed emails back and forth, counting down the minutes until we could go home, knowing our eagle-eyed, bums-in-seats culture called for an on-time departure. 

That first day felt like some feat of human resilience as we tried to prove we were just doing exactly what we’d been doing at home, now with more professional scenery. But the reality of how it felt could not have been more different. I hated the way time crawled. It felt like the first time I tasted milk after switching to Oat, and I gagged. By switching, I had somehow broken milk. In the same way, WFH had made the office feel like the most unnatural place to spend time. It was brutal.  

What quickly became clear to me was that I needed to get office-fit again, which isn’t even a thing on the Internet if you can believe it. So I had to figure out how to make re-entry less painful. And here’s what helped.

Eating breakfast is a big one. You’ve got to hit that commute with a full tank, so when mid-morning arrives you’re not craving the thing that rhymes with shmoastie (but honestly, they really are delicious). Then coffee. Use it wisely. Previously I might have had one before work and another as soon as I arrived. But I started saving my second coffee for midday, to just push through that afternoon slump. It helped. 

My blurry boundaries at home around things like chocolate peanuts and other treats to “get through this unprecedented time and be kind to myself” really came back to bite me on the ass. Once I powered through a few old chocolate balls I found in my desk drawer, I simply had to white knuckle my way out of those habits. Drinking water helped (a little).

Perhaps the most obvious survival technique in returning-to-work has been trying to mimic some of those WFH rhythms. And by that, I mean more ebb and flow. Walking to the photocopier doesn’t cut it. Neither does water-cooler small talk. The thing that I found really helped with mental clarity—and also just the shock of realising that spending 5 days a week staring at a computer in a room without much vibe and not even your dog for company is supposed to be totally normal—was getting outside. Fresh air is a miracle when you’re sucking down air-con for several hours. 

To end on a slightly cheerier note, I did love seeing my work mates. And having boundaries again. About leaving all the domestic tasks behind me. And focusing unapologetically on my own work. The office is the only space where my work is protected. Respected. It’s the only place where my to-do list is all my own. So I’m hoping ultimately, the world will start to feel less upside down soon. I’ll stop missing the dog, eventually. Right?