This is my fourth day of unemployment and people keep asking me how it feels. There is no straight answer, but I’ll give it a shot.
Most of the time, I feel a sort of righteous freedom. A bit like this:
But even in these early days, every once in awhile I find myself wading through a quagmire of self-pity. Like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3KoJj4dz2I
On the one hand, I have all the time I need to write, paint, or learn to play canasta. Or at least I should — so far it’s been kind of hectic. On the other hand, I have no income. And because work is important to me, I currently feel a bit rudderless.
I’m realizing that doubt and leaps of faith are a package deal.
Until last Friday, I had the privilege of working for a fantastic non-profit filled with lovely people. When I handed in my letter of resignation, I knew I was leaving a damn good thing. But that didn’t make actually walking out the office doors, boxes in tow, any easier.
Sometimes when I contemplate unemployment, all my brain can think is “holy fuuuuuuudge!” Except I don’t say fudge.
When that happens, I force myself to remember two things:
1) I left because I’m chasing a simpler, quieter life
2) So few people have the privilege of self-imposed unemployment
This time between jobs is a rare opportunity. To ride the TTC in the middle of the afternoon, read a hundred romance novels, and focus on what I really want from my life.
So, in the words of Joanna King (my heroine, who picked up and moved to her hometown in Newfoundland a few years back), my “job” is to enjoy it.
Easier said than done, but I’m working on it.