Three years ago, in the midst of frustration, lack of motivation and a baby at home screaming for me, I walked out.
My Little Miss A was eight months old and I tried to go back to work. I was following the rules - get back to life as soon as possible. Don't change. Don't lose yourself.
But I had to change, and more than that - I had to stop resisting it.
Now, on the eve of walking back into that same building, I'm nervous. Not of the work, or the people, and no longer about leaving my little girl.
I can tell you what it isn't, but I'm struggling to explain what it is. That feeling when you worked somewhere for nine years, then left in a whirlwind of emotions, and now find yourself heading back into territory that's so familiar and yet so strange.
Know what I mean?