Not so Funemployment

I won’t lie. There were days when I woke to the dulcet tones of my alarm clock, pulled my head back under the covers like a turtle with a hangover, and wished very much to be unemployed. But mostly I just didn’t want to get out of bed. I’ve never been much of a morning person. 

Now I am unemployed. I am unemployed under what can be described as nearly the best possible circumstances. I have a generous severance that affords me the luxury of not being completely panicked about finding a job right this moment. My resume and portfolio have been well-received by enough places to suggest that finding employment is but a mere matter of some time, provided I infuse myself with a good deal of patience, which is not my strength. 

A more mentally stalwart individual than I might look upon this situation and muster some excitement about the abundance of free time. An opportunity to catch up on movie-going, on sleep, on reading the pile of books on the nightstand. A chance to reconnect with busy friends and family. Finally, the luxury of time to go to the gym every day and make your body forget about the 50-hour weeks spent at a desk. And travel! Now that work’s out of the equation for the moment, going places for stretches of time is suddenly a possibility. Or: what an excellent time to make headway on all-important personal projects (e.g., novel). 

You’d think I’d be more thrilled. 

Instead, what I do is marvel at how slowly a day passes, yet how quickly these four weeks since the day of the layoffs have zipped by. Normally a social smoker, I seem to have reinstated cigarettes as daylong companions, from morning coffee to the 5pm beer. That doesn’t bode well. I’ve gone from a relatively healthy and measured regimen of meals to eating cold leftovers once or twice a day while standing in front of the open fridge. If I don’t have a reason to take a shower, put on pants that aren’t made of stretchy loose fabric, and leave the house, I don’t tend to get around to these things until well after 3pm. And there have been days when I’ve gotten to nearly eight at night without speaking a single word out loud, making the sudden conversation I might have something of a shock to the system. 

When I do speak, I’m constantly at a loss for words, as if my normally robust vocabulary has flown the coop. Not ideal for job interviews or work-related phone calls, clearly. My brain feels stiff, like its gears, without the daily lubrication of work, have crunched to a halt. And as much as I used to fantasize about a work-free life, I find I miss work. I miss the structure that came with it, the constant engagement with people and ideas. I miss the reason to get up and moving and thinking. 

To be fair, there are many days that I do manage to do something with myself. But those are days that involve an appointment of some kind. I must go to this job interview, ergo I must shower and look presentable. While I’m at it, I’ll manage my time for the day in order to make sure I work on the novel, go to the gym, get some groceries, and make a date with a friend for drinks. But it’s that necessary stud of an appointment that builds the whole house of a day not dawdled away.  

Left to my own devices? Well, let’s just say I have some work to do.