No job, no mojo. Eh. It’s a good thing.
Eight glorious months or so ago, I wrote about the liberating experience of putting in my letter of resignation. After 11 years at my job, it was a frightening, exhilarating, and necessary decision.
Now, two weeks into committed job searching (the time to that point was less like unemployment, more like much-needed mental/emotional recharging), it is starting to feel like a stifling, frustrating, and frightening decision.
Don’t get me wrong. It was time to go. But I’m starting to feel the pressure of unproductivity like a noose around my neck. Maybe it was the NyQuil haze, but last night into today was a murky fog of doubt, insecurity, and down-in-the-dumpness* about the daunting prospect of continued joblessness, unhireability, and of course, poverty.
When I need comfort, safety, and familiarity, the solution is usually food. No surprise there. So, for the past 2 days, I’ve been craving pancakes. Sweet, fluffy, filling goodness. Yes, these are readily available at my local diner (this is New York. I’ve got 4 diners in walking distance). Apart from feeling guilty about spending needlessly, I had to make them myself…in some weak attempt at taking control, I suppose. So, I turned to the interwebs and searched for easy-pancakes-from-scratch. There she was, the doyenne of domestic bliss, Martha Stewart herself, promising me that ‘weekend’ feeling in 30 minutes or less.
Well, the lady did not disappoint. In fact, in my excitement, I somehow broke my spatula.
Hobbly spatula and all, make those pancakes, I did. As Martha, in her infinite wisdom would say, it’s a good thing.
What has this experience (unemployment? domestic divaness? all of it) taught me? How do I go from feeling lost to pancakes to hope?
Well, since leaving my job, I’ve been doing some volunteer work here and there, and doing things around the house, and spending more time with family…all wonderful things. I suppose this little downward blip (the feeling down) is a good sign that I’m afraid if I get used to this life of leisure, I’ll lose all momentum, aspiration, competitive drive, passion, mojo, whatever. I will, with the love and support of my husband and family, thankfully, not languish financially. I will have to work at keeping my professional skills up (working on some consulting gigs in the meantime), and keep plugging away at the job search. I guess it’s good to know there’s still a spark there, for until I set the world on fire again.**
** In a creative, go-get-em! kind of way. Not in a felony way.