The Great Return To Work Movement

Imagine a place you can go to escape all your worries. No electronic communication of any kind, no work, no outside world. You have a bed you’re expected to lie in every moment of every day. People bring you food, keep you relaxed, and make sure you feel no pain at all.

Kinda nice, huh?

Now strip that place of all color and life. Make monotony the norm. Your masked attendants wake you every two hours, no matter how deeply you’re sleeping. Some dig into your skin under the guise of “helping.” Every meal is the same: dehydrated, rock-hard chicken or fish with slimy, overcooked green beans. And that bed? You’re stuck in it because your body simply can’t get out.

Not quite as nice, huh?

Now spend sixty-three days there. Constantly tied to tubes. Staring at the same ceiling. Feeling the pit of despair and anxiety hovering at the foot of your bed.

That’s what my wife went through—and I was with her every single day.

She was discharged more than a week ago, and it’s been a shock for both of us to be home again. Sixty-three days away from sofas, strong Wi-Fi, decent food, and a comfortable bed.

I had plenty of time to think about how much environment shapes the way we think.

The Pre-2020 Environment

Way back when, we climbed into boxy, poison-spewing metal contraptions and drove to a place called “work.” I did it for years.

It wasn’t all bad. Sometimes there were snacks. Usually a decent chair, a decent computer. You and the others in “work” sat there most of the day typing, dragging things across screens. Occasionally, you’d shuffle into a glass room to “confer” on some matter of great importance to no one. Everyone did just enough to say they’d been productive, then went home in their contraptions.

That was normal.

Being in the office had its upsides. Everyone was in the same boat—no one really wanted to be there, but bills don’t pay themselves. So we made the best of it. We weren’t exactly friends, but we became comrades. Need something? Just lean over and ask.

Creativity, though, was hard to sustain. Surrounded by people who thought of your work as nothing more than “a coat of paint on their machine,” your spark dimmed fast.

But sometimes you got to work from home. And then one day, suddenly, everyone worked from home.

The 2020 Environment

When COVID hit, nobody knew how working from home would, well, work. Our office already had plenty of remote folks, so in-person was optional anyway. We were lucky.

For a creative, working from home was heaven. No one peering over your shoulder asking how to add a mustache to someone’s photo. No interruptions when you were in the flow, headphones blasting deep trip hop in a dark, freezing room like some mole raver. You could surround yourself with your toys, your lights, your inspiration—and no one cared. As long as the work got done (and it did).

The catch? Constant paranoia that you weren’t doing enough to justify working from home. So you did more. It’s 3:00 a.m., you see your boss’s email, and of course you answer right then, proof of your dedication, even though she’s certainly asleep.

But home also meant the easy conversations vanished. The chit chat. The quick fixes. Gone. Instead, emails ballooned in length and frequency. Everything felt strained.

And the bosses hated it. They still do. Their insecurity is obvious: Are you working? Can you prove it? Send me updates.

Bite me.

And sometimes you weren’t working from home by choice—you were laid off. Maybe the owners cashed out, sold the place to butchers who couldn’t care less that the work mattered to you.

Working from home alone is stressful. But it’s also exciting. You are in control.

The Hospital Environment

What isn’t exciting: sitting in uncomfortable hospital chairs under wretched fluorescent lights for 14 hours a day while the most important person in your life has no choice but to be there. You aren’t in control.

I tried. I walked the halls. I read. I sketched. I designed games in my head. I drew in Procreate. I forced creativity out of myself.

But eventually the monotony won.

Sleep deprivation. Back pain. Stomach issues from cafeteria food. The endless drone of the hospital sucked it all out of me.

I challenged myself to design a game in two weeks. It took a month, and it’s still half-done.

I developed a drawing style I liked, but nothing finished.

I reconnected with old friends, but it felt distant.

I made videos. Posted on social media. Tried to promote myself.

But eventually, I gave in. In that last month, I did nothing.

The one saving grace: hospital stays end.

The Return to Work Environment

Now we’re home. It took a week to catch up on sleep, reset my stomach, and scrub the septic stench of the hospital off me.

I feel human again. I feel like myself.

And—I feel creative again.

I want to pick up where I left off. Tell the stories of El Castigo. Share how I came up with Bar Codes. Talk about Tic-Tac-Toe-Tee-Tum and how it’s going to be the next Wordle.

I’m home. Surrounded by my toys, my loud techno, my frigid darkness. And I’m happy to be free.

Now, what say you to getting back to work and have some fun?!