So, by now, if you’ve been reading along, I’m unemployed. This new series, Educated Mess, is my journey through the Isle of Dogs to my home. What makes me happy? My life has been a steaming garbage pile of a mess the past few years, but I was so busy at work I just kept blazing through.
Before I left for Cape Town in 2005, I did this thing, I started second-guessing my trip and got scared to leave.
This was my first big trip in several years, Italy was in 2000, and I wasn’t going with my sister this time. My anxiety had roots in little things like my creature comforts (my couch) and routine (cuddling with my cat before sleep, going to the gym, seeing my friends).
There’s a picture still vivid in my memory of this time; I am sitting on my sage green sofa in our living room. My parents bought it for my sister and me, as well as this little garden patio home, which they thankfully unloaded shortly after the recession. Watching my TV that sat in this massive 1990’s style TV console, and thinking I really like this place. I really love my home, I’m comfortable here.
Often times I write thoughts, story ideas, personal notes, and things I want to research, in my notes app. It’s my digital post-it note, along with Google Chrome tabs, which I think is a fairly normal thing among people in my age group (?). Lately, I’ve been going through my notes, cleaning them out, looking things up, or deleting something nonsensical.
This one note broke my heart. It just said this:
That’s it. Just a passing thought as I struggled to keep my head above water, I didn’t have time to look it up, or the energy to see if I could go there or learn about it, just the location. It’s not the most telling note. Nobody would know the context and likely how I was feeling at the time, but I know.
It’s been two months now since I quit my job and I still have no idea what the hell I’m doing.
My life is mostly sleeping, feeling guilty about sleeping, taking baths, cooking, cleaning, and doing projects around the house. then feeling guilty about enjoying just being at home.
Turns out, burnout sucks; but a planner without a plan (or job, omg) is not good either!
On social media, I watch all these people seemingly who have it all figured out. Yes, I know better, social media lies, but they’re telling good lies I want to believe!
It can take 3 months to 3 years to recover from burnout, I remind myself. Rest and relaxation are precisely what I need right now. I fully embraced the hustle culture and it’s not going to go away overnight.
Let me first say I had no idea how dim sum worked, had never had dim sum, and assumed it was solely a group activity. It was something I dearly wanted to experience.
However, the thought process and underlying meaning of the desired experience still stood. Back then, I was processing life as a single woman and all the things that meant for me, my bucket list, and what I thought I could and couldn’t do in life.