Why I Think Going Back to the Office Might Actually Be Good for Us

Olga Lacroix
Jan 5
4 min read

I know this may not be a popular opinion, so I want to start gently.

I’m not here to dismiss how hard the last few years have been, or how much working from home gave many of us when we needed it most. For some, it offered safety. For others, flexibility. For many parents, survival.

What I’m sharing here isn’t a universal truth or a prescription.It’s simply an honest reflection—on my own experience, and on what I’ve been witnessing in my clients, peers, and community.

I think returning to the office—at least in some form—might be healthier for us than we want to admit.

Why This Might Surprise You:

I started working from home over six years ago, when I was about to give birth to my son. I knew I wanted to be close to him and have support while continuing to work. I built my coaching and therapy practice online before COVID—back when I had to convince people that Zoom sessions were not only effective, but deeply meaningful.

When the pandemic hit, the world caught up. Working from home became normalized, celebrated, even idealized. My business continued to thrive remotely.

So no—this isn’t coming from someone who “doesn’t get it.”

And yet, despite all that, I’ve come to realize that something important was quietly lost.

1. Life Started Feeling… Inconvenient-

Somewhere along the way, effort began to feel heavier.

Driving 20 minutes to the grocery store felt way too much effort. Leaving the house required more negotiation. The world outside my front door slowly began to feel optional—and therefore avoidable.

When our daily lives shrink to the size of our home, our tolerance for effort shrinks too. The nervous system adapts to comfort and predictability.

But growth—emotional, relational, even physical—rarely lives there.

2. I Became Socially Rusty (Without Realizing It)

I’ve always been a social person. Comfortable. Curious. Engaged.

After years of working mostly from home, I noticed something unexpected: social situations felt awkward at first. Not intolerable—just uncomfortable.

And then, once I was there, it came back: Oh right. I know how to do this.

Social confidence is a muscle. Without regular, low-stakes interaction—small talk, shared space, casual presence—it weakens. Not because we’re broken, but because we’re out of practice.

3. I Quietly Lowered the Bar for Caring for Myself

This one crept up on me.

The comfort of not needing to “get ready” for work slowly bled into other areas of my life. Less intention. Less ritual. Less effort—not out of exhaustion, but out of ease.

For many high-functioning people, getting dressed, leaving the house, moving through space isn’t about appearances. It’s about signalling to the brain: I’m showing up.

When that structure disappeared, so did a subtle form of self-respect.

Not to mention, I haven't wore many of my shoes in YEARS!!! (poor babies all ignored)

4. Fewer Small Moments of Human Connection:

Work used to provide built-in human contact: greetings, smiles, shared frustrations, casual conversations.

At home, it’s quiet.

And while deep relationships matter, research shows that regular, low-effort social interaction plays a crucial role in emotional regulation and mental health. Without it, isolation increases—even among people who don’t feel “lonely” in the traditional sense.

Community isn’t only built through closeness. It’s built through shared space.

5. Life Got Smaller—and Honestly, a Bit Boring

When every day happens in the same place, with the same rhythms, life flattens.

I noticed I had less to bring back into my marriage. Fewer stories. Less novelty. Less contrast.

Separation between roles doesn’t just protect us from burnout—it nourishes our relationships.

And Yes—Let’s Talk About Commuting

I don’t love commuting.

Traffic. Delays. Crowded buses. Time that feels “lost.” I understand why commuting became the villain of modern work life.

But here’s what I didn’t realize until it disappeared:

That in-between time mattered.

Commutes create psychological transitions. They help the nervous system shift gears—from professional to personal, from output to presence. Even when annoying, they act as a buffer between identities.

Without that buffer, stress travels straight from work into home. Roles blur. There’s no decompression.

Ironically, removing the commute didn’t always save energy—it often redistributed it into mental clutter.

What felt inefficient was, in many ways, regulating.

What Psychology Tells Us:

Environmental psychology shows that humans rely on contextual cues to regulate attention, emotion, and identity. When work, family, rest, and exercise all happen in the same space, the brain struggles to switch states.

This contributes to fatigue, irritability, and emotional numbness.

Your nervous system likes different containers for different parts of life.

A Gentle Word About Working Mothers & “Balance”:

This is tender territory.

Working from home is often framed as more balanced for mothers. But what I’ve seen—and lived—is something more complex: more multitasking, less shared load.

When work and home collapse into one space, invisible labor expands. You’re always partially working and partially parenting. Boundaries blur. Responsibility quietly increases.

Balance isn’t just about proximity—it’s about distribution. And without structural separation, many mothers end up carrying more, not less.

A Different Way to See the Return:

Since the return to the office is inevitable, I figured, let's try to see it from a different perspective.

It’s about recognizing the value of movement, separation, shared spaces, and rhythm.

A return to work doesn’t have to mean:

Losing your flexibility
Abandoning your values
Burning out

It can mean:

Re-expanding your world
Rebuilding social ease
Letting space support your nervous system
Allowing different parts of you to breathe again

This is also why I reopened my physical office for in-person sessions. I believe deeply in intentional spaces—places designed for presence, connection, and depth.