The Weight of September, or the Year We Didn't Know How to Live
Në këtë mekanizëm, pushimet shndërrohen në një mit të paarritshëm, në një enë të brishtë që duhet të na rikthejë energjinë, lumturinë, lehtësinë, intimitetin, madje edhe dashurinë. Por asnjë javë në det, asnjë shëtitje në mal, asnjë darkë me pamje nga perëndimi i diellit nuk mundet ta mbajë peshën e asaj që nuk arrijmë ta kultivojmë gjatë vitit. Dhe pikërisht ky disproporcion prodhon zhgënjim: kërkojmë shumë prej pushimeve, por i kërkojmë shumë pak vetes sonë në ditët e zakonshme.
2025-09-06 19:45:34
Erjon Uka
By Giuseppe Lavenia / Every year, at the end of August, the scenario remains the same: suitcases are emptied, cities begin to pulse again with traffic and noise, and agendas fill up with meetings and deadlines. This scenario is always accompanied by that feeling of emptiness that many define as “back-to-work syndrome.” But to ignore it as a temporary inconvenience is to miss its deep root.
The problem in itself is never September. The problem is everything that precedes it. Twelve months in which work, routine, and often even relationships, are experienced with a sense of oppression, as if they were just an obstacle to be overcome in anticipation of the only time considered worthy of living: the holidays. Thus, we find ourselves surviving from September to July, nurturing the hope that “in August salvation will come.”
In this mechanism, vacations become an unattainable myth, a fragile vessel that should restore our energy, happiness, ease, intimacy, and even love. But no week at sea, no hike in the mountains, no dinner with a view of the sunset can bear the weight of what we fail to cultivate during the year. And it is precisely this disproportion that produces disappointment: we demand too much from vacations, but we demand too little from ourselves on ordinary days.
Holidays, in essence, are never just a break. They are a reflection of what we are missing. On those days, the cracks we have become more apparent: if we are alone, the loneliness seems harsher; if we are unhappy, the emptiness becomes louder; if we live in conflictual relationships, the forced time together worsens them. Yet we continue to believe that it is enough to “disconnect” to restore things to their proper order. But the psyche does not work like an electronic device: there is no restart button, it needs continuity.
This is why returning from vacation becomes so violent: we don't simply return to the office, we return to confront the instability of a life that is not really ours. The return becomes an accountability, not a simple change of scenery. It's as if the vacation has put our awareness of our worries to rest, while September has forcefully reactivated it.
If we really want to dismantle this mechanism, we need to change our perspective. Vacations don't save anyone. They can relieve, but they don't cure. They are not a cure, but an interval. The real challenge is to learn to cultivate pleasure during the "normal" year: to allow ourselves short and regular vacations, without postponing everything for one month of the year; to restore meaning to work, not as the sole source of identity, but as part of life; to create moments of authentic pleasure and connection even within routine.
Psychology teaches us that well-being is not an exceptional event, but a daily process. It is a slow maintenance, done with small and consistent gestures, not with large and rare escapes. If we rely only on vacations, we will continue to return empty and angry. If instead we learn to “live the year”, September will no longer be a punishment, but only a passage, a new opportunity to start over.
The holidays are over, it's true. But the opportunity to feel alive shouldn't end. And if we realize that's exactly what's happening, maybe the fault isn't with the calendar, but with the way we've decided – or haven't had the courage – to live our days.
*Giuseppe Lavenia is a psychotherapist, professor and President of the National Association for Technology Addictions of Italy. This article was translated into Albanian by Erjon Uka for Tiranapost.
