STILL UNTANGLING — ISSUE NO. 4
November 1, 2026
I just got home from vacation.
A week away from my normal routine. Away from my desk, my calendar, my to-do lists, and the endless collection of things I convince myself need my attention.
And I've been thinking about something.
It's amazing how important things feel when you're right in the middle of them.
The email that needs an answer.
The project that needs another adjustment.
The thing you meant to finish yesterday.
The decision you keep turning over in your head.
When you're living in the middle of all of it, everything seems connected. Everything feels like it matters. And somehow, everything feels a little urgent.
Then you leave.
And the world keeps turning.
Imagine that.
I don't mean nothing matters. Obviously, responsibilities don't disappear because you pack a suitcase.
And I'm not suggesting a week away magically fixes the things waiting for you at home.
But there's something interesting about what distance does to our perspective.
Things that occupied so much space in your head suddenly occupy very little.
Not necessarily because they changed.
Because you did. Or at least your relationship to them did.
And that has me wondering.
How much of what I consider urgent is actually urgent?
How much pressure am I putting on myself simply because I've gotten used to operating under pressure?
And how many things am I carrying around in my head that don't actually require me to carry them?
Here's where it gets complicated.
I like being busy.
I like having things I'm working toward. I like building something. I like solving problems and figuring things out.
And if I'm being truthful, I get a certain satisfaction from knowing I've handled something.
But sometimes I wonder whether I've become so accustomed to having something to handle that I don't quite know what to do when there isn't anything demanding my attention.
That's a strange thing to recognize about yourself.
Because I don't want a life without responsibilities, challenges, or ambition.
I actually enjoy those things.
I just wonder whether everything needs to feel quite so important while I'm doing it.
And maybe that's the part of stepping away that interests me most.
Not the vacation itself.
The perspective you get when you're no longer standing quite so close to everything.
Of course, now I'm home.
The emails are still here. The projects are still here. The things I want to accomplish haven't gone anywhere.
And I have a feeling it won't take long before something that felt completely insignificant last week starts feeling terribly important again.
So maybe the real question isn't what happens when you step away.
It's what happens to your perspective when you step back in.
Do you bring any of that distance home with you?
Or do you immediately pick everything back up and carry it exactly the way you did before?
I'm curious to find out.
Still untangling,
Sandy
Let's untangle this.