Date: 20th April 2020 Days unemployed: 19 Days spent looking for a job: none Days spent in isolation... hmmm... I had to look it up: 35
Last month, I left a company I had been working at for over a decade. In the middle of a pandemic that has ground the economy to a halt. And I’m not regretting it (yet).
I had been working for this firm for over a decade, and although I was loving the high-profile project I had been working lately, I was getting burnt out. As the project delivery date loomed closer, I started dreaming about sandy beaches and warm sun on my skin. Anything away from home to take a break from it all. I wanted to relax, explore, take at least a month of work. I wanted to recover from office life on a beach in the Philippines, letting my body slowly sink in the warm sand, releasing built-up tension in the warmth of blue skies, with the gentle lapping of turquoise water slowly sending me into a meditative state.
The reality is that I’ve been home-bound since the 17th March. And I don’t know when this will end.
I could be angry that I don’t get to spend that free time exploring other parts of the world. But strangely, I’m ok. I’ve never spent that much time in my own garden and I’m loving it. Every day I’m out, watering, tending to new growth, old dead branches and generally amazed at how much happens in nature at this time of year. Every single day I’m witnessing new leaves, new flowers, evolutions in plants I thought might be dead, new strong green stems reaching for new heights to get always more sun. Even the bee hotel I put up last year has come to life this week, with little bees coming out and exploring for the first time.
Being stuck at home in spring has been weirdly so enjoyable.
Now if only I could get past my guilt for not being productive… All I can show for the past 3.5 weeks at home is a half-finished hat for Innocent juice bottles…