It’s only Monday, and I can already tell it’s going to be a long week.
Some days just carry a certain weight. You might not even be particularly busy, but everything still feels off. There’s a low-grade friction to the day, like a dull ache you can’t quite shake. On days like this, I usually try to dive into deep-work or at least something to anchor me and push through the fog. But if I can’t find that rhythm, I end up drifting, fidgety, unsettled.
Over the years, I’ve realized this feeling often follows periods of excitement or stimulation. The first few days back after a vacation or the morning after a big event; the day your brain stops buzzing and suddenly you’re left with a quiet you weren’t ready for. When things slow down, it doesn’t always feel like rest. Sometimes it feels like mental limbo.
Last week, I spent a few days in New York—only my second time there. I met up with colleagues, both familiar and new, and soaked in the buzz of the city. I didn’t go full tourist, but I sampled a few of the essentials: NY style pizza, a questionably delicious hot dog from a street cart, some bodega fare, and a few happy hours that blurred into late nights. For a few days, I felt tapped in… alive, energized, curious.
And now… this.
Work Trips Are Interesting
I’ve always loved ‘fun’ travel, but work travel is a weird hybrid-esqe fun thing that comes with homework. You can have fun, as long as that fun is coupled with productivity. And if you’re someone who doesn’t travel often, that combination can be oddly disorienting.
Today feels like a whole new kind of chore. There’s no flight to catch, but there’s catch-up to play. The inbox is full. The context from conversations has started to blur. Everyone else seems to be moving forward already, and you’re still trying to piece it all together.
Maybe for some people, today feels manageable.
For me? It feels overwhelming.
Navigating Overwhelming (Perceived) Responsibility
The tricky thing is, none of the responsibilities on my plate are impossible. But they all seem to have arrived at once. And because I can handle them, I expect myself to do it all, now, and without missing a beat.
It’s not the work that’s breaking me, it’s the self-imposed pressure to be at full capacity after a week of mental overstimulation.
It’s that subtle voice that says, You’ve had your fun. Time to make up for it.
Today, I’m a Heavy Bear
That’s the archetype I landed on this afternoon, and honestly, it fits. I’m carrying a lot, mentally, emotionally, and doing it mostly alone. Not because no one’s offering support, but because it feels easier not to need anyone. That’s Bear logic: solitude as strategy.
But that solitude starts to feel different when you’re tired. Heavier. Less like protection and more like a void.
The Bear is steady. It pushes forward. It doesn’t complain. But even a Bear needs to pause. To hibernate. To regain their mental sanctity, even if just for a moment.
Right now, everything is muted. The colors, the sounds, even the motivation. I’m functional, sure, but also frayed around the edges. I’m not stuck. Just moving slower. Processing. Recalibrating.
So… How are you feeling?
Finding a Path Toward Restoration
I don’t have a silver bullet. But I’ve learned that naming how I feel matters. Saying “I’m a Heavy Bear today” gives me permission to show up differently. To go a little easier on myself. To choose restoration over acceleration.
Restoration doesn’t have to be dramatic. It’s the quiet return to baseline. Drinking water. Tackling one thing on your list instead of five. Listening to music that reminds you of who you are. Texting a friend without needing a reason.
Sometimes it’s simply allowing yourself to feel the weight, without trying to escape it immediately. Sit with it. Let it teach you something. Because yes, this week feels long. And no, things aren’t exactly how I wish they were…
But I’m still here. Still trying. And for today, that’s enough.
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