Ability to Recharge

I am an introvert with taught extrovert habits.  In the simplest of terms, being outgoing takes energy (as compared to my wife, you gets energy), and in order to function, I need to recharge.

I have a bunch of learned methods to recharge.  Hockey is one, even if it does include some social aspects.  Fishing is another, and I do like going out with the family.  Working out is a solo affair, as I have a routine and dislike waiting.  I don’t watch TV.  I used to read a lot more, but since my days are 50% reading reports, that isn’t so attractive.  I like to bake, as it’s a precise art, and my kids can help out. Gaming is obviously a very large recharging outlet.  I was much more socially active when I had the time to be.  I have much more time for that now, since the out-of-house things are not available.

Normal State

2 months ago, if I had a rough day at work, I’d be able to decompress a bit on the drive home, pick up the kids, and start supper.  Maybe 45 minutes from packing my stuff until the house door was closed.  If I needed more, I could do an evening workout, or some hockey.  If it was the weekend I could get some baking in, or head to the cottage.  The odd bit, I’d need the larger part of day to just get into mental shape for the next week.

New Normal

Today if I have a rough day, that means when it’s done I close my laptop and go upstairs.  Takes 30 seconds.  I can’t go to the cottage.  Can’t play hockey.  I’ve baked more than I ever have.  I’m burning through games pretty quick, which is both cool, but also not sufficient to recharge.

I’m also working on getting people back to work in the office, but there is no path where we go back to what was normal 2 months ago.  The entire concept of shared spaces and open environments doesn’t work in a pandemic.  My specific field of work is meant to break that model – and allow people to work from wherever, whenever.  It’s a weird mode of success I guess.

I am fully aware that I am in one of the best possible scenarios.  There are millions (billions) of people worse off than me.  The perception of a gilded cage remains.   Which may simply be me going through the stages of loss.

My brain just hasn’t accepted that things have really changed, cause they seem to be going to change again, and again.  Like if I pretend that things will go back to ‘normal’, everything else is just temporary.  But holding my breath for that change is not helping.  The good news in this is that I’ve been pushing change for 30 years, I know what I need to do.  Better news is that I’m aware there’s a problem.  Just weird to be on the other end of it.

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