The Work is Open. You’re Not Ready. That’s Not Failure.
You didn’t miss the starting gun. Your wider life’s just in a different atmosphere — one that doesn’t reward clean launches.
If the thought of “getting back to it” makes your chest tighten, this post is for you.
No hype. No shame. Just a soft, strategic reckoning with what re-entry really looks like — and why circling your research isn’t avoidance. It’s attunement.
Are you turning toward your research — but still waiting to feel ready?
Does your “return” (now, or on the horizon) feel partial, prolonged, or postponed?
What if readiness isn’t something you have — but something you build?
n.b. Not everyone’s “back.”
If you’re reading this in the US or Canada, you might already be easing back into teaching, writing, or research admin.
If you’re in the UK, your re-entry may still be weeks away, at least officially. But internally? You might already be turning towards it.
This post is for that in-between. The space where return is not quite now, but also not quite later.
You don’t have to feel ready. But you might want to begin noticing what “readiness” even feels like.
It’s the first week of August, and Sam is starting to think about return.
Back from half-research-mode. Back from a conference that mostly drained her. But it’s the school holidays: six weeks where the house is always full, and her thoughts are never her own.
She’s returning. But not ready.
The desk is there. The books. The screen. She logs in. She scrolls. She opens the notes she left herself back in June.
And she stares.
She knows she’s supposed to be “easing in.” But in truth, she’s circling. She can’t land.
Re-entry isn’t ignition. It’s descent.
We often think of “re-entry” like a light switch: One day you’re out — the next, you’re in. Reset, reboot, relaunch.
But re-entry isn’t a clean start. It’s an edge.
If we borrow the metaphor from space travel (because why not?), re-entry is:
high-stakes
imprecise
dependent on protection more than propulsion
A spacecraft re-entering Earth’s atmosphere can’t rush. Too shallow an angle, and it ricochets off the surface. Too steep, and it burns.
It doesn’t power through re-entry — it’s guided by gravity, heat shields, friction, and finely calibrated arcs.
The goal isn’t to accelerate. The goal is to survive the transition.
What if we approached our own return to research this way? Not with fuel. But with care.
You’ve returned. But maybe only in part.
Some returns are physical. Some are mental. Some are emotional. Some are invisible.
For many of us, the summer isn’t a rest — it’s a frantic reshuffle:
Caregiving takes over.
Teaching prep eats into the quiet.
Health, housework, and invisible labour expand to fill the vacuum of “free time.”
Which means your return doesn’t always feel like a return. It can feel like drifting in circles.
“I’m not sure where to begin.”
Maybe you’ve sat down to write — but just re-read the same paragraph over and over.
Maybe you’ve opened your draft — and then immediately closed it.
Maybe you’ve started — but keep being pulled away.
The guilt creeps in.
“I’ve had weeks — I should be ready.”
“Other people have written chapters over summer.”
“Why does this feel so hard?”
Pause. That guilt? It’s not diagnostic. It’s contextual.
For universities, the “academic year” begins cleanly in autumn. But your life doesn’t work on those terms.
The illusion of clean starts
There is no such thing as a frictionless return.
And the longer you’ve been out, the harder it is to come back in.
Some PhD researchers are returning from:
months of caring for dependents
physical burnout or cognitive shutdown
institutional neglect or breakdowns in supervision
just… life being life
If you’re feeling slow, scattered, or unsure how to re-enter, that’s not a personal failing. It’s a natural response to a system that never stopped expecting you to run — even while you were gasping for air.
🛬The Re-entry Recognition Map
Not all returns are the same. And not all deserve the same expectations.
Try naming what kind of re-entry you’re experiencing:
🔁 Interrupted Re-entry
Your desk is set up, but your sessions are constantly disrupted — by care, by admin, by exhaustion. You touch your research, but can’t sink into it.
Reframe: This isn’t failure. It’s an indicator that your context hasn’t cleared. You need a container — not a push.
🌫️ Emotional Re-entry
You’re technically “back” — but emotionally, you’re elsewhere. Grieving. Flattened. Raw. The project feels distant. You can’t make yourself care yet.
Reframe: This isn’t disinterest. It’s disconnection. Your nervous system is still catching up. Let it.
🌪️ Extended Re-entry
You’re circling your project — re-reading, revisiting, reacquainting. You’re not ready to commit. But you’re near it.
Reframe: This isn’t dithering. It’s attunement. You’re preparing the ground.
What if I’m just procrastinating?
Maybe. But as we talked about in the live session last week: maybe procrastination is covering fear — or fatigue.
Ask yourself:
What part of your project currently feels unsafe, unwelcome, or unknowable?
What would make returning feel more possible — not just more urgent?
But I haven’t done anything yet.
Of course you haven’t. And that’s ok, because re-entry isn’t about output. It’s about orientation.
Maybe your work this week is:
opening the file
re-reading the chapter outline
sharpening one pencil
adjusting your chair and breathing for 30 seconds
These are micro-acts of re-engagement.
Don’t dismiss them. They’re how readiness grows.
🧘 Gentle Practice: A Re-entry Debrief
When you’re ready to think about re-entry, take 5–10 minutes.
Ask yourself:
What’s making re-entry feel fragmented, complicated, or invisible?
What am I still holding — from summer, from the year so far?
What would it mean to “come back” at my own pace — not the calendar’s?
Optional journaling prompt:
“My return doesn’t have to be clean. It only has to be honest.”
🧭 What might help?
Try a “first contact” task:
Revisit a section of your writing with no intention to edit
Voice note yourself talking about what you’re trying to do
Ask a friend to hold 30 minutes for you just to show up at the page
The goal is not full reactivation. The goal is to signal to yourself: this still matters to me.
Sam, still circling
By Thursday, Sam hasn’t launched a writing sprint. She hasn’t finalised her term plan. She hasn’t emailed her supervisor.
But she has:
re-read her notes
named what’s not yet ready
made a list of questions she doesn’t need to answer yet
She’s still circling. But now it’s with intention — not avoidance.
That counts.
⬇️ Coming next
If this post helped you slow the guilt and soften the pressure —
Thursday’s post offers a next step: A planning ritual for researchers who can’t plan cleanly, and don’t want to fake it.
🗓️ For Your Diary This Month
🖋️ August Writing Retreat
Thursday 21 August, 09:00–16:30 BST — open to all (ticketed separately here).
A full-day, online, co-writing retreat to ease back into rhythm. Structure, space, and gentle re-entry.
🎙️ Live Member Event (for paid members)
“Planning for the new Academic Year Without Panic”
Tuesday 26 August, 15:00 - 16:30 BST
A live session to explore soft, seasonal planning practices — plus a Q&A on designing your term from where you actually are.
💡 Writing Boost Weeks (for paid members)
11–15 August & 25–29 August
Low-pressure writing rhythm through Substack chat: light check-ins, and optional co-writing anchors. Just enough to help you begin again.