This is nothing like mat leave

Photo by Min An.

When we were first at home, we joked that it felt like a collective parental leave. With human, pet, and plant babies. All of various ages. Across the entire globe.

There are familiar elements. The boredom. The oppressive, unending boredom. The complex relationship with leaving the house. Where even a small trip to the grocery store is a massive endeavour. The urgent need to fix things that your eyes bounced off of for years. The desire to burn your stretchy pants so you can start over with something stylish and chic when you next encounter the world.

But on leave, you can still meet up with friends. You find other people going through the same experience and go for coffee. And your starting point is usually something lovely and joyful.

This doesn't feel like that. In some important ways, this feels more like divorce.

You were both married before, right?

Yup. We were early adopters of divorce. Getting divorced in your early 30s means you are the reference point and sounding board for everyone else as they wonder whether it's time. We don't mind. Divorce Club is a good club. Albeit with some painful initiation fees.

Divorce is this thing where everything you thought you knew is suddenly upside down. It is a prolonged phase of having the rug pulled out from under you. And then again. And again. Until you think you've found your footing. Only to find that wasn’t new footing after all. New footing would still be many many rug pulls away. There is no joy in divorce. Even when there is relief, or moments of forgetting how awful everything has been, there isn't really joy.

And there's this step in the process that is particularly awful. Even when you warn people, almost no one manages to avoid it. It's the one last chance. The maybe we can still make this work. The remember how good it was. Holly Brockwell wrote about her own lockdown-amplified version. And around the world thousands of us quietly poured a glass of wine for her.

It never goes well.

It's so hard to skip, because the remembering is powerful. That last gasp of who you were is so loud. So appealing. You need to know if you can still go back or not. And the recoil is so sudden.

Because what you realize in that moment is that divorce is also a process of transformation. The tearing down is also a rebuilding. And you aren't the person from those memories anymore. Those memories might be great, they can still be great memories. They just aren't who you are today.

How does going back to work feel?

8 weeks ago things here in Toronto started to shut down. And if they'd only shut down for a week or two, maybe we all could have gone back to what it was. But it's been two months. You're different than you were. We all are.

We're hearing from more and more people that they don't want to go back to the old thing. It's not who they are any more. They're putting off the conversation with their bosses until things stabilize, but it's coming. The decision's already made. The old thing isn't a fit any more. Even the VCs are saying, "Like it or not, there is about to be a huge reshuffling of talent."

For some it's the role itself. But for many more, it's the things around the work. It's the commute that added multiple hours to an already full day. Or the realization that what once passed for work-life balance never was and surely isn't anymore. How could it be? Once you know, you can't un-know the thing.

And others of you are still hoping to go back and make it work. Many of you will, to be clear. This isn't musical chairs, you're not required to change seats. But some of you have a nagging feeling that gets louder any time someone talks about going back to the office. You might still have to give it one last chance to know for sure. It won't take long for you to figure it out.

So here's the deal. If you already know you need a change, or if you're very certain you're still in the right place: great. Clarity is a special thing these days and we're glad you have it.

If you're a boss wondering what kind of team you're going to get back: be open to what's coming. It will be different than the team you had two months ago. Some of them will be happy to be back. Some will need to start fundamental conversations about their role and their future. The brilliant leaders in the year to come will be the ones who can meet their people where they are.

And if you're someone on the bubble. If you have been nodding along to all the talk about transformation and divorce and we've put a name on something you've been feeling and you're wondering what the answer is for you... well:

The hardest part about divorce is high bridges. It's standing at the top, knowing you have to get off, and looking over the edge. Not because you want to hurt yourself, but because the only way off this path is into the unknown, not being sure if anyone or anything will catch you. It's the moment where you have to trust that eventually it'll all come together again. And while it will look totally different, there's the hope that the new thing may be even more wonderful than you can imagine. But first you gotta jump. And that shit is terrifying.

The first rule of Divorce Club is: The moment before the jump is worse than the fall.

- Melissa and Johnathan