Up until last week, I had still been entering the city every now and then to spend some time in the office. Going in had also meant a quiet ride zipping down Royal Parade, providing half an hour of solace with the wind behind my back.

Working from home has been a frustrating drag. I can't bring my two screens and monitor home as there is no room to set-up, which means no proper access to our work servers or Adobe suite, both of which are pretty important for getting through each day.

But also work has been frantic. I'm not quite sure how but the roni accelerrated our projects and output at work; somehow in the middle of a pandemic we've been asked to be even more productive?

My pace at work has never been sustainable, with burn-out being at least an annual event. I was probably staring it down already to being with before coronavirus hit, but now it feels like I'm on a motorbike roaring down into the fire.

Behind this sense of drowning overwhelmedness is a sense of purpose. I feel extremely grateful and fortunate to have meaningful work that benefits the world. Perhaps I have been fighting too hard and have reached a point of exhaustion.