17 Notebooks, 49 Tabs
"I'm giving myself some space" (aka flailing in said space).
I’m in such a fertile spot in my life. Well, potentially.
Mid-transition.
Liminal.
Neither here nor there.
3 weeks sober from “the traditional 8-5” space.
Taking space to create the next space and path.
Childfree.
Basic needs met.
Supportive partner.
Supportive therapist.
Supportive friends.
I feel like having this mental, physical, actual space to breathe and imagine and create has been a dream of mine for so long. And although I didn’t plan to quit my job without a plan…here I am, here we are.
And now it’s here, and I am realizing that:
1.) I am not sure how to…work for myself???? Be motivated my only…me??
2.) I am DEEPLY acculturated in the 8-5 mindset.
3.) I am a little lost without any structure??
4.) I am flailing more than flourishing.
This was not how I expected this to feel! I assumed, if I was given time and space, I would be unstoppable!
And it turns out. I am very stoppable.
It’s making me question my “independence”. I know independence well. I lived alone for 10+ years before finding my partner/forever roommate. I am an oldest daughter and the only family member not living in my hometown. I potty-trained myself before my parents even tried. I flourished in my online classes because I know how to learn independently. I mean, it’s all relative, but I have always thought of myself as self-motivated, an independent worker, and highly productive!?
Which is why I am finding myself kind of frustrating right now.
I have very little external accountability right now. It has been a tough year, and everyone is good at giving me grace and space right now, which is what I need. I think?
What does my day look like if I don’t have to clock in and clock out?
What does my day look like if no one is monitoring what I get done that day? Or if the tasks I am doing (i.e., researching “Octopus People” ) aren’t things that I can always plan or check off a to-do list?
Leaving 8-5 culture is actually a huge transition. 8-5 culture is a total social construct, but it has been the structure that has made me feel worthy and productive and has given me so much identity.
It gave me a clear and socially acceptable structure in which I could prove my worth!!! Even just to myself!
I hated the cage of it when I was in it. I really did. But I am realizing that a cage is at least a structure!
What am I worth if all I did all day was go down rabbit holes and scrolled tik tok and watched some sewing youtube videos today?
What am I worth if all I did was write one blog post today?
What am I worth if all I did was go to the library today?
What am I worth if I didn’t do anything all day?
IM LITERALLY SQUIRMING.
I know this is a thing for me. Toxic productivity and finding worth in hard work are literally the roots to my heritage and family tree. Mennonite work ethic bullshit. I am so aware of it. I’ve worked so hard to fight the internal voice of “shut up and work harder”.
Which is why I am where I am, right now. Lost, flailing, rubbing right up against my sense of worth again.
I am here because I was in jobs that I did not want to be doing, and I didn’t choose to shut up and work harder. I chose to quit. (ouch).
Don’t get me wrong!! I am not miserable. I recognize the intensely privileged place I am in right now. My agrarian ancestors could not just choose to quit, their physical survival depended on it. I know that I have resources and accesses to so many things and that I barely have a right to be feeling dramatic about all of this.
I am not miserable in the flailing.
I just don’t know how to traverse it quite yet.
I am giving myself some space to figure it out.
Giving myself some space.
LOL.
I am laughing, because before this time in my life, “space to figure it out” sounded so right and romantic.
And 3 weeks into having nothing but space, I am realizing that space is actually kind of scary!!!??
“The space” looks like waking up 7:30 to have a quick breakfast with your husband, and once he leaves, literally not knowing what to do next. Paralyzed by all of the possibilities and the total lack of possibilities at the same time. So you sit down to scroll on your phone to “look for some clarity”. And then you look up from your phone and it is fucking 3 pm.
“The space” looks like 17 notebooks open, all with lists and notes and ideas and words on thoughts on the first couple pages. One notebook by your bed, one in your purse, one by the treadmill, by the sewing machine, by the TV, in your car. All tainted with little bursts and inspirations that make little sense when you read them the next day. Nothing deep or heavy in the notebooks. Nothing of substance. Nothing quite sticking or flowing. Just floating words, floating notebooks, floating ideas, everywhere you look.
“The space” looks like still looking forward to the weekends, even though you don’t have a job.
"The space” looks like 49 tabs open on your Chrome browser.
“The space” looks like not calling your mom.
“The space” looks like constant stream of podcasts in your ears.
“The space” looks like unanswered text messages.
ANYWAYS.
This is where I am now.
It’s great.
It’s terrifying.
It’s temporary.
It’s assumedly “part of the process”??
If anyone has been through a similar transition/ interaction with “space”, please feel free to share any tips or reflections. I know I will get my groove figured out at some point. (RIGHT??). But this part is a little unnerving!!
Peace for now!
Kate