It's been one full week since I have been truly, madly, deeply unemployed. Technically, I have been off the pay schedule of any organization for over a month, but was volunteering in all the time I wasn't job hunting for an org where I had a pretty significant role.
Because of a severe case of ADHD and the remnants of an iron clad protestant work ethic, I have been busy, pretty much constantly, for the last 12 years of my life. And when I say busy, I mean that since I was 17 years old, I have been working at least two jobs-sometimes three- and often in addition to full time school. That stopped three years ago when I began working at a non-profit with at-risk pregnant women, when suddenly one job could occupy 60-70 hours a week depending on who was going into labor when, what grant was due on which day, what fundraiser needed planning. If my work load ever dipped below 50 hours, I attempted to be involved in other non-profits that needed help. At one point, I help leadership positions in two organizations I didn't work for, in addition to the one that I did.
Some people said this was selfless and an attempt to make my life meaningful, blabbedy blah. I knew it was because I was uncomfortable sitting with the constant noise in my head, the feelings I was having about life. I was doing more than I could do well and was literally making myself sick. At one point, I got hit by a car coming home from work (at 7:30pm, normal work hours right?) and used the time in the hospital waiting for X-ray results to email my co-workers. Needless to say, I was pretty wrapped up in the busyness game. I was also losing my mind.
I was getting sick regularly, as my body seemed to be begging me to stop- PLEASE PLEASE STOP! I had stopped menstruating. I was clumsy and forgetful, breaking things left and right. I was becoming a danger to myself and to others, even at one point attempting a left-on-red.
In this week of nothing, I've learned some pretty amazing things. At first, I was uncomfortable. I found that sitting with myself was hard to do and that I woke up early in spite of every desire to stay in bed and drown myself out with sleep. Annoying.
The next thing I noticed was that I survived it. My first lesson was that there was, in fact, nothing truly dangerous about being bored. And I found I was actually able to amuse myself with things that were meaningless. And I found that I began to be interested in things. Genuinely interested. I felt curious about new projects and tried new recipes, made new crafts. My creativity, my problem solving, seemed to be coming back. I picked up a guitar for the first time in at least a year and sought to play a new song for the first time in at least two.
I am noticing that as I begin to catch my mental and emotional breath, I find that the little details I dreaded, like sweeping the floor in between moppings or bringing back library books, were no longer something I had to drag myself to do. I was simply doing them. The list of things I had put off doing- sorting clothes, organizing a closet, etc- was being plucked though at a relaxed, remarkably unexhausted pace with no tone of aggravation. It just seemed to flow. I've come to notice and do, as opposed to noticing and dreading.
Another insight is that so far I am taking better care of my relationship. I used to love going to see Mark at work or doing something sweet for him, but in the frustration of my job(s) I seemed to forget how much joy it brought me to be a fully present participant in my relationship. At times, I felt aggravated by his needing my attention or love or could come to demand intense love or conversation or care be done in short bursts rather than slowly and sweetly. And to be honest, I don't think any human male is ready to sit down to an intense conversation about their feelings in someone else's free 15 minutes. When I slowed down, I noticed what came out of me was love. Today, I baked a batch of cookies for Mark and his co-workers and brought him a jar of milk to eat them with after lunch. I am pretty much a rock awesome wife if I give myself a minute.
Our new found lack of half my income has also forced us to be home more. I used to think a Saturday spent at home was a waste. This weekend we spent our time hanging out together and puttering about the house, and it was amazing. I thought I would hate it, but leisurely reading, getting take out and watching a movie we owned at home saved us at least $40 dollars (likely more), travel time and wear on our car, and lots of energy. We are getting to know each other better, and we are accomplishing things in our home. The result has been a feeling of centered-ness, a shorter to do list, a gratitude for our home, and a shorter to do list. Also, more money in our pockets in spite of less income. Who can argue with that?
