This week I’m just outside of Denver for the holidays. When I booked the flight, I thought I might be moving back to the area to live near my family, and I was generous with my “vacation” days because I envisioned that I might do some apartment hunting while I was home.

After all, I thought — I can work as a professional copywriter from anywhere, right?

Wrong.

My parents knew that I was tense about trying to make sure I could get work done, so they went out of their way to set up a bed and a place to work in their home office. I carefully planned my to do lists and my time, fantasizing that I could meet my father’s expectation that I’ll have to work only 3 hours a day while I’m here.

This morning I had a meltdown. I tried to escape to the basement to get work started. TVs were on in three places in the house. The phone kept ringing. The dog kept jumping up. The kitchen kept emitting mouth-watering smells. And did I mention the TVs?

I felt a suffocating bubble of anxiety growing. My mother kept proposing solutions to help me find a place to be, and I started very quickly escalating into my teenage self. “NOTHING IS GOING TO WORK! I AM GOING TO BE MISERABLE!”  I just wanted to call and change my flight to get back to my little quiet office and my little meowing cat and my little coffee shop and my rigid schedules (posted on walls all over my house).

Holidays are stressful. We eat too much. We try to fit too much in. We set high expectations for how we’ll juggle our energy. I’m surrounded by people who took the week off. I have two amazing nephews under the age of 5. I absolutely want to enjoy coffee in the kitchen until it’s time for lunch. I want to wrap presents and decorate cookies and watch Stars on Ice on TV. I don’t have (or I won’t take) that luxury.

My family doesn’t exactly buy my reasoning. “I love you guys, but you don’t understand… I’m at a critical milestone in my business, and I have to keep working.”  I’ve been coming home to visit for years, and I always say that. The last real vacation I took was in 2003 after the abrupt end of my marriage. My parents and I went to Alaska and spent a week on a charter boat with 8 other people. We ran across probably three or four public phones during the trip, and I’d spend my time on the break calling the office.

Thus, when I tell them that I REALLY need to work this time, they say, “Beth, you always need to work.” And they always try to accommodate me. And I always freak out that I can’t get things done.

So I’m now holed up in the little basement office (which is actually bigger than my bedroom in San Diego). My sister just called and is relieved that we don’t have to spend “quality time” together today because she has a billion things to do. My father hooked me up with wireless internet, a wireless keyboard and a wireless mouse. It’s fairly quiet and pretty comfortable. And I’m embarrassed that I merit so much attention when everyone else seems able to go with the flow.

Oh well. Guess I better get to my task list.

Having the same problems balancing work and the holidays? I liked this list for a stress-free office.