One of the recurring themes of this blog, if you haven't noticed, is me telling other people how to live their lives. This post is going to go on along those themes.
On her (in?)famous blog, Penelope Trunk mentions that she tends to cycle through employment. She'll go through periods of intense work and then periods when she doesn't work quite so hard.
I don't know about that, but I can say that the past five months (of deliberate unemployment) have been one of the best periods of my life.
Here's what happened: around June of last year, I had a great job doing work that I loved. In many ways it was exactly what a job should be: I'd worked my ass off, been reprimanded, been taught, learned my weaknesses and my strengths, created a joint vision with a great team and managed to end up with a decent number of tangible accomplishments. But I felt like I was at the limit of what I was going to learn, both personally and professionally, and I was ready to try and strike out on my own. I knew that what I wanted next, even though I wasn't sure exactly how I would get it.
I told my bosses that I was planning to go, and we worked to create a transition plan. And then, at the end of October, I left. I was incredibly nervous about it. Like everyone else (but especially those of us in this hyperactive generation) I define myself by the work I do. For the past three years, I'd had two jobs doing great work that I genuinely enjoyed. My "work", for me, meant what was printed on my business card. I worked a lot, and I spent even more time thinking about work.
It was hard to explain this decision to others. Not having a job is not considered an option, it's a position of last resort. My parents, far away in Washington DC, now had to contend with awkward questions at dinner parties as to what I was doing. "Why doesn't she come home?" "Why doesn't she get married?" "What is wrong with her?" I'm not the best at keeping in touch, which I'm sure made these explanations a lot harder to provide. Nor was I looking forward to meeting new people and answering their questions about what I did for a living with a blank stare. Not at all.
But then I began to think a lot about who I was, and what my "work" is. And what it means to me, and why I do it. I began to think about those crazy dreams that I'd tucked away in the back of my mind - being a freelancer, for example - that I hadn't gotten around to because I was so busy working my jobs. I felt that really old childish hunger that I hadn't felt since I was a teenager. That gnaw in the gut - I'm going to do it all, I'm going to show them.
These past five months turned out to be the busiest of my life. I knew that I wanted to work in digital media, and push the boundaries of the conversation around news x tech, and I began experimenting with new ways to reach that goal. I applied for and got a scholarship to do a professional development course in the US. I started a non-profit and organized events. I freelanced for some great magazines (with a few more coming up!) I won a reporting fellowship, and got to spend a few months researching a subject I really like. I started volunteering at another non-profit, just because I believe in the mission. I even found time for an old love - acting in a theatre festival. Things that had seemed like big obstacles before - pitching editors, for example - became daily events (as did rejection!)
This entire time, I resisted the urge to take another job. Several came my way, and the pay was good, and I'm sure they would have been satisfying. But I was enjoying doing things I'd dreamed about.
Then, out of the blue and not at a particularly good time, I finally got an offer I couldn't turn down. After thinking about it for a long time, stressing over the potential downside, analyzing the upside - I realized I really wanted to do it. It will be a huge challenge, and I'm excited, nervous and happy to get back to "work." But I've also realized that regardless of what gets printed on business card, work doesn't stop, and neither does challenge. And challenging, meaningful work - not a job - is what creates satisfaction.
Regardless of why people aren't working, I would encourage everyone to try and own that time, rather than think of it as an interlude or an interregnum. To use it to push harder for their goals than before.
There's one parenthetical note I should add here: I know that being unemployed by choice is an incredible luxury, and I am fortunate to have had it. Yes, I saved the money to do it, but that doesn't change the fact that it was good luck. I realize that to a lot of people who are struggling to find a decent job that'll pay bills, this post will come across as privileged and tone-deaf. And I am sorry for that. What I'm trying to document, as you'll see, is how I came to broaden my definition of what "work" means for me. I hope that's something to which people can relate.
On her (in?)famous blog, Penelope Trunk mentions that she tends to cycle through employment. She'll go through periods of intense work and then periods when she doesn't work quite so hard.
I don't know about that, but I can say that the past five months (of deliberate unemployment) have been one of the best periods of my life.
Here's what happened: around June of last year, I had a great job doing work that I loved. In many ways it was exactly what a job should be: I'd worked my ass off, been reprimanded, been taught, learned my weaknesses and my strengths, created a joint vision with a great team and managed to end up with a decent number of tangible accomplishments. But I felt like I was at the limit of what I was going to learn, both personally and professionally, and I was ready to try and strike out on my own. I knew that what I wanted next, even though I wasn't sure exactly how I would get it.
I told my bosses that I was planning to go, and we worked to create a transition plan. And then, at the end of October, I left. I was incredibly nervous about it. Like everyone else (but especially those of us in this hyperactive generation) I define myself by the work I do. For the past three years, I'd had two jobs doing great work that I genuinely enjoyed. My "work", for me, meant what was printed on my business card. I worked a lot, and I spent even more time thinking about work.
It was hard to explain this decision to others. Not having a job is not considered an option, it's a position of last resort. My parents, far away in Washington DC, now had to contend with awkward questions at dinner parties as to what I was doing. "Why doesn't she come home?" "Why doesn't she get married?" "What is wrong with her?" I'm not the best at keeping in touch, which I'm sure made these explanations a lot harder to provide. Nor was I looking forward to meeting new people and answering their questions about what I did for a living with a blank stare. Not at all.
But then I began to think a lot about who I was, and what my "work" is. And what it means to me, and why I do it. I began to think about those crazy dreams that I'd tucked away in the back of my mind - being a freelancer, for example - that I hadn't gotten around to because I was so busy working my jobs. I felt that really old childish hunger that I hadn't felt since I was a teenager. That gnaw in the gut - I'm going to do it all, I'm going to show them.
These past five months turned out to be the busiest of my life. I knew that I wanted to work in digital media, and push the boundaries of the conversation around news x tech, and I began experimenting with new ways to reach that goal. I applied for and got a scholarship to do a professional development course in the US. I started a non-profit and organized events. I freelanced for some great magazines (with a few more coming up!) I won a reporting fellowship, and got to spend a few months researching a subject I really like. I started volunteering at another non-profit, just because I believe in the mission. I even found time for an old love - acting in a theatre festival. Things that had seemed like big obstacles before - pitching editors, for example - became daily events (as did rejection!)
This entire time, I resisted the urge to take another job. Several came my way, and the pay was good, and I'm sure they would have been satisfying. But I was enjoying doing things I'd dreamed about.
Then, out of the blue and not at a particularly good time, I finally got an offer I couldn't turn down. After thinking about it for a long time, stressing over the potential downside, analyzing the upside - I realized I really wanted to do it. It will be a huge challenge, and I'm excited, nervous and happy to get back to "work." But I've also realized that regardless of what gets printed on business card, work doesn't stop, and neither does challenge. And challenging, meaningful work - not a job - is what creates satisfaction.
Regardless of why people aren't working, I would encourage everyone to try and own that time, rather than think of it as an interlude or an interregnum. To use it to push harder for their goals than before.
There's one parenthetical note I should add here: I know that being unemployed by choice is an incredible luxury, and I am fortunate to have had it. Yes, I saved the money to do it, but that doesn't change the fact that it was good luck. I realize that to a lot of people who are struggling to find a decent job that'll pay bills, this post will come across as privileged and tone-deaf. And I am sorry for that. What I'm trying to document, as you'll see, is how I came to broaden my definition of what "work" means for me. I hope that's something to which people can relate.
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