Your Unemployed Daughter

photo credit: Olga Díez (Caliope)

I know, I know, I know. I have been remiss. The blog gods are angry. And all I feel is … ashamed.

For one thing, I said yes to too many things. And if unemployment has taught me anything (and, yes, it’s taught me a lot) it is that LIFE IS PRECIOUS. And I don’t mean baby-in-your-tummy life, I mean, life outside of work.

Work is good. It keeps us in boots, and able to buy wine. It gets us out of the house, which is good for proximity to purchasing boots and wine.

But too much work? Too much work will suck you dry and hang you out in your dehydrated state for the vultures to gawk at. Because they won’t even want you, you overworked piece of stale jerky. Even Laura Ingalls wouldn’t have eaten you during the Long Winter. And that winter was long.

So here I am, running around like an idiot, saying yes, yes, yes to whatever corporate entity wants to pay me for any little or big portion of my time. And feeling kinda proud of that. I really showed ‘em, didn’t I? Your UNEMPLOYED Daughter!

Fast-forward to tonight. 6 pm, in the freelance bullpen at a certain company, where all the other freelancers had blessedly gone home and therefore were not there to witness my complete emotional breakdown, including wracking sobs, heaving chest, and the liberal use of a soggy, lunch-stained napkin.

I am an embarrassment to all that is unemployment.

Fortunately, dear friend S. talked me down from the crisis point, even though she herself has not left the office since late November. And I left and went to the gym and grocery store and took a nice hot shower and now feel semi-normal.

But I’m about to start saying no a lot more.

Because what was my break from work for if not to reevaluate what I want and where I want to be and how I live my life? And if I just start jamming it packed with this and that work opportunity, without foresight or meaning or consideration, well, then I really am unfit for even the hungriest of vultures.

Anyway, folks. I apologize. I’m going to be better.

And heed my words. Sometime down the road, maybe soon, maybe later, you’ll find yourself in a spot where everybody wants a piece of you. Don’t let them have it. Save a little for yourself. That stuff’s good when it’s fresh.