I, Hamster.

“I can’t do this,” I tearfully cried.

I had been back to work for exactly two hours and 30 minutes (after an 18-month maternity leave) when one of the clinicians had asked me to submit a brand new grant to pull foundation funds for future program use (something I readily and easily did pre-maternity leave).

I can’t do this! I hastily thought again.

As you can tell, I’m the picture of eternal patience and resilience.

Just before that, I had been pulling out my hair while unproductively waiting for my ancient desktop to load my dormant Windows profile in order for my email and calendars to update. I work in an old rickety hospital and had been gone for a year and a half so really, the length of time I was away was in direct correlation to the amount of time it would take for my profile to update. Translation: a very long ass time.

I was feeling irritated (close to belligerent), and it was only day one of my return. I had the rest of my life ahead of me (and I actually like my job in normal times, ha)! The clinician could have been speaking Macedonian for all I knew (I’m not Macedonian); I didn’t understand squat of what was coming out of her mouth. My frustration had grown exponentially by the second.

To be fair, she was speaking English perfectly fine. She was simply asking me to do something I had no issues doing before. She assumed she was talking to a fully-functioning adult, but she was wrong. I was the problem. I was the one who was confused, unhinged.

What grant? What submission? Into a foundation? Which foundation? Huh-frick’n-HUHHH!?

You know when people say things like, “Hey, could you do that thing we used to do because the thing that we had to do didn’t actually work so instead the workaround was to do this thing before doing the other thing? Remember?” Then they’d top it off with that simple, “Remember?” As if that last crucial word was the key to your memory lockbox and everything you did pre-child would suddenly present itself as a magical solution. No, Robin. I don’t remember.

All I wanted to say to her was, “No! I have not a clue! I have been making a tiny human with my own organs for the better part of the last two years (if you count my pregnancy, breastfeeding and pumping). I don’t even remember what I had for breakfast this morning!”

Eighteen months prior, this all would have been a breeze. (Sure thing, Robin.) I was on that hamster wheel doing my thang. I knew everyone, did everythang, managed all, and had it all perfectly balanced but just a mere 18 months later, my brain was total mishmash. Suddenly, that year and a half was a lifetime ago; a time when gravity did not affect body parts, sleep was abundant, and my brain was vibrant.

My co-worker, witnessing the trivial exchange while registering the doom on my face, flew into immediate action. She sensed the imminent eruption of a nervous breakdown and went across the hall to grab my director. My director then pulled me into a private room and asked me what was wrong (almost three hours into my first day back). What followed was a series of high-pitched, unintelligible, monosyllabic words laced with tearful blubbering in between heavy sniffles but most of what came out was this:

“I. can’t. do. this. I thought. I could, but I. can’t. It’s. too hard.”

My director, bless her heart, thought I was having separation anxiety from Charlotte but unbeknownst to her, I was happy as a goat to be away (are goats happy?).  Don’t get me wrong, I love my kid but having the much-needed break from her was what we both desperately needed.

After she pulled me back from the ledge, I calmed down and we both came up with a reasonable game plan for my slow return to regular responsibilities.

Do you ever feel like you have everything figured out and getting back on that hamster wheel would be harder than stopping it? Were you ever off work for a lengthy period of time and if so, what was your return like?

Liked this post? Check out other popular posts on my blog:

• The Art of Quitting
• On Motherhood
• Rethinking Pink
• Fake It Till You Make It
• Taking Flight: The Turning Point Series