It’s funny.  I left my big, full-time, exhausting, never-stopping, intense job in January 2017.  I left because it was too much, I was exhausted, my whole life was just existing to do that job … and the company was changing and I just … I couldn’t anymore.

And I didn’t look for another job.  I watched ten seasons of Grey’s Anatomy curled up on my bed during the dead of winter while John went to work.  I languished in the freedom to sleep and drink and not do anything.  The novelty was high.  I loved sleeping until the sun was up.  Eating oatmeal and raspberries at a leisurely pace.  Shuffling around the house aimlessly (y’know, after the initial rush to get all those outstanding things I hadn’t managed to do while working done).

And then, all of a sudden, I felt lost.  Adrift.  Unsure of who I was without work.  Intermittantly angry and bereft and at peace.  I rode my bike.  I read a few books.  I began to obsessively check LinkedIn.  I wondered if my worth as a human was inextricably linked to my professional success.  Had I unwittingly thrown my life away when I’d left my job? Surely not.

Fast forward to early 2020.  I’d given up looking for a job.  I was either over-qualified or under-qualified or just … not the right fit.  I wanted too much money, I couldn’t work enough hours ….  The list goes on.  I’d resigned myself to the fact that I would no longer earn a paycheck (or a disablity check).  I was solely reliant on my husband for support.

That sucks, BTW.

The thing is, and I own it, I like money.  I like earning it, I like having it, and I like spending it.  (I also like saving it because … see earlier in sentence … I like having it).  I’m not ashamed of this.  I think most people – if pressed – would say that yes, they also like money.  Maybe it affords them a comfortable life, a less stressful life, an adventurous life.  Whatever the reason, money does help ease some of life’s more uncomfortable predicaments.  (Not health.  Trust me, I know that.  But it also doesn’t usually hurt when faced with issues).

Anyway.  Having given up the dream of ever truly working again, I somehow stumbled upon a job.  And as the world crashed in March and April, and many people lost their employment (including my husband) I actually *had* a job.  Insanity.  Joy.  Deep, unbridled satisfaction.

Doing my job isn’t always easy.  All the things that made working hard back at the old place of employment still apply today.  I’m tired.  Especially in the afternoon.  Stress triggers my disease.  Work can be … hard.

But I really love it.  I love working and solving puzzles and getting frustrated and learning new things and being humbled and trying again.  I love all of it.  And in the end, it isn’t even about the money.  (Although, what can I say, it’s a great perk!).  It’s about self-worth and making my brain work and continuing to learn and evolve.

And I’m very, very glad it isn’t any easier than it is.  That would take away all the fun.

xox, g