I had a call with Occupational Health last Friday and, over the past few days, it's been finalised that I'll be returning to work next Monday (12th) exactly five months to the day I went off sick.
I'm going to have a four week phased reintroduction starting on 50% of my normal hours and doing some administrative duties to begin with that don't require me to talk much.
While it's good that this frustrating period is coming to an end, I have to admit to being nervous about it.
Now that I have a date and plan I think an underlying sense of dread has started to pervade my subconscious. Things will have changed, the team dynamic will have altered and it's going to be hard to reintegrate.
Maybe it's something more than just nerves. Maybe there's something deeper, but I can't allow myself to think about that for now.
I've gotten used to being home, to not commuting, to having control over my day. Returning will be a massive shock to the system beyond the physical aspect which the reduced hours are meant to allow for.
Because I'm aware of this, I know I need to maintain at least some vestige of routine from my time off. I intend to use my commute productively and write. Or read. Or study. Or meditate.
Writing is who I am and what I do. Even if it's nothing more than a blog post, I'm happiest when I'm putting words on a page, real or digital.
But I've been allowing these nerves over my impending return to affect my current activities, allowing my daily practices to become inconsistent.
And I shouldn't. I really shouldn't.
I only have a few days left so need to make the most of them, just as I need to carry things forward into my life that, once again, will include work.