Over half a year has passed since I spontaneously discovered unemployment. I prefer my verbiage to “I lost my job,” because those four words imply I’m a victim. Or that I had my job and then haphazardly misplaced it. But there’s only one thing I lose sight of and that’s jackets, at the bar, after a few gin and tonics. I think we can all agree “impromptu sabbatical” has a great ring to it.
A lot can happen in six months. Celebrities can meet someone, get married, adopt three ethnically-diverse kids and get divorced. While the rest of us do considerably more average things like grow three inches of hair, ruin our blood pressure playing fantasy football, and suffer through the graphic deaths of our favorite characters on the latest season of Game of Thrones. Six months seems like ample time to adjust to a change in employment. To have a dramatic, empowerment-fueled epiphany; one inspiring moment that could be stretched into 90 and underscored with mediocre dialog for the Lifetime Movie Network.
Sorry to disappoint the LMN audience, but that’s not my style. I remain true to the pain in the ass I entered the world as, twenty-some years ago on my birthday. I’m consistently behind schedule. Mom dealt with me dragging my heels from day one. But really it was my dad who discerned it. “Lydia,” he spoke gently one day, “you’re not great with change.” Truer and more euphemistic words have never been spoken.
I can’t say where my aversion to change comes from. That’s for my future therapist to conclude. These days I try not to fight my internal flaws anymore than my external ones. So I’ve been working with the same chest size since age 14… I could argue that circumstance with reality, but it’s exhausting. And despite my flawless (team captain) debate skills, I’m guaranteed to lose. It’s much more rewarding to embrace these personal attributes. Whether they’re physical, mental, emotional. However big or size A small. In that light, I’m not averse to change, I’m loyal. I love what I love. I invest 100%. I’m obnoxiously faithful.
Six months of spontaneous unemployment has passed, and the only thing I’m sure of it’s time to stop counting time. I’ll leave tallying the days to the fictionally imprisoned or shipwrecked. You know, characters you’d see on Lifetime Movie Network. I’ve forgiven myself for maintaining an ambiguous “next steps” plan. Math is cool and all, but these days I’m only concerned with counting happiness.