I’ve been out of work for two weeks, right? Perhaps you assumed I’ve had plenty of time to rest and relax, to waste away the hours with leisure activities, to watch endless amounts of mindless television and movies, to read ad nauseam, and to write until I could write no more. If so, you’re wrong.
It amazes me how much running around and non-restful activity I’ve done for the last two weeks. Errands galore, catching up on chores (a great many of which I’d ignored for far too long), trying to catch up with friends and family, helping others with activities going on in their lives, addressing car maintenance, getting the air conditioner fixed, being technical support and web developer, and otherwise finding that this whole time off thing doesn’t seem at all to match the brochure.
Today I’ve been out of pocket all morning and am only just getting home again. Perhaps it’s time to go back to work so I can rest.
The most surprising realization from all of this is how much we sacrifice for our jobs. How much of our own time to we burn, how much sleep do we lose, how often do we postpone that which should be addressed sooner rather than later, and how many times do we burn vacation or other paid time off just to address the mechanics of living? It’s taken me two weeks to get caught up with my own life, and I’m still trailing a bit more than I would have guessed possible by now. It’s no wonder so many people are depressed and stressed: they essentially live to work and sacrifice their own welfare in the process, not to mention their happiness.
Despite my own amazement at how much I’ve had to do since I left my job, I’m happy to have the freedom to address the needs of my own life instead of always worrying about some money-hungry, heartless executives and whether or not they’ll get their bonuses.