It begins.
I find it appropriate to reanimate my former blogging self now that I've got all this time on my hands. On June 30th of this year, I finished my last day of work. Funny thing is, I didn't have another job to start the following day. I believe this is the first time in my adult working life, and mind you - we're talking about 16 years, that I didn't directly transition to another form of employment.
It's surreal. Actually, it's beyond that. I work. It's what I do. It's what I've always done. My personal life may get wonky, my sanity might be suspect, but my professional life has always been spot on. I love to work. I derive my sense of identity from my career. I have supported my family of 4 for as long as I've had a family. Again, I work. It's what I do. Now, let's take a guess at what that does to someone when they suddenly stop. Now amplify that a bit. There we go... Now we're getting there.
I woke up the next day not having a clue as to what to do with myself. Obviously, first and foremost, I'm looking for another job. The thing is, it can't just be a job... just any job. My resume is my road map. I can't deviate from my planned trajectory. I can't just take some job just to work. That job will be like a noose around my neck. If it's not in line with what my road map has been thus far, then it can't very well be listed on it. And if it's not listed, then I have this hollow vacant spot on my road map. A glaring void of employment that I will have to explain away at the next dream job interview.
So what is one to do? It's been a week. I've already hidden away in the corner of my room in a funk. I've already rearranged my closet. I've already stuffed my face silly in my stress induced fit. And now that I've gotten all of that out of the way - I'm going to live.
