This Doesn't Suck
An Update from the Author's Life
In the past few weeks, I have decided to downshift on my content for a bit. When I was laid off back in April, a flood of ideas burst through the dam that the corporate world had constructed. It reminded me of a kind of gross but apt description George Harrison gave of his first solo album, a massive collection of songs released the same year the Beatles officially broke up. After being overshadowed and gate-kept from songwriting by Lennon and McCartney, “… doing an album like All Things Must Pass was like going to the bathroom and letting it out.”
Now, into my third month away from a 9-5 (more like a 7-6), I’ve gone and done a bunch of foolish things to make myself busy again — but this time, it’s not out of shame of being lazy or unproductive. There are just so many experiences to have and things to do.
People often use the phrase, “This is a new chapter of my life”. As a writer, I like it, but it’s a bit cliché, so I think I’ll let LinkedIn Larrys keep it.
For me, all things must pass, including eras of life. I’ve completed my corporate years. I entered a gentle repose. And now I’m in an exploratory phase.
One is pet-sitting.
Despite enjoying my time off, I decided to augment the unemployment insurance, which will run out eventually, with some income from pet sitting.
I love animals, so getting paid to hang out with them is a no-brainer. But what I didn’t expect was how this would explode. I knew Seattle was a dog town, but holy sh*t (pun intended… I pick up a lot of it), I did not even begin to fathom how quickly I could get jobs.
My soft introduction was a, “Can you do a week-long house sitting with two pitbulls … next week?”
Me, holding a sleepy chihuahua… “Uh, … yes?”
So now I spend a lot of time in other people’s beds, eating other people’s snacks, and watching dog buttholes so I can check off the “Pooped?” box in the specialized pet-sitting app. I get to drink out of fun mugs and browse strangers’ bookshelves and, most importantly, talk sweetly to other living creatures.
One is my business.
I just completed a two-week introductory training to entrepreneurship. Thanks to the State of Washington’s self-employment program, I can now work toward scaling my business instead of submitting applications to jobs I don’t want, which took a ridiculous amount of time compared to ten years ago.
I don’t talk about my business on here much despite this being its blog, because I am not a self-promotional person at heart, and I don’t want to be the Internet equivalent of the polo’d pest control agent, ignoring the NO SOLICITING sign, knocking on your door and setting off your dogs just as the baby got to sleep.
But in case you’re curious, back when I was in corporate, I helped a few people navigate burnout, not by treating it as if it’s an acute mental health issue that could go away if they just tried harder, but by addressing how the systems these people were mired in were the main cause. My suggestions to upper management may have been ignored, but at least I could help my coworkers.
So that’s what I do. Burnout is my field of study. I’ve lived it, and not just “blah I hate my job” —
I mean the real bad kind where people talk about your nervous breakdown in hushed tones.
My experience isn’t just anecdotal; I’m a scientist and a researcher, so once I get stuck on something, I have to take it apart and know the root cause.
I’m versed in its history and variety of manifestations. I know how internal issues like perfectionism and imposter syndrome interface. I understand how it shows up more frequently in certain populations and cultures.
I’ve been rebuffed by dismissive managers and know exactly how they see it and what they will and won’t take responsibility for. And I know that it’s not an easy fix, and not everyone has the luxury to leave their job and go live in the woods amongst the gnomes and clover.
That said, the goal is, simply put, to take a burned out person and have them not be burned out anymore.
Do people pay me for this? Well, sometimes. I’ll get there.
One is professional gardening.
No one may want to admit they need a burnout specialist, but they’ll admit that they know a Boomer who can’t bend over anymore.
My neighbor referred me to her friend, a master gardener who has been published in magazines. He has a bad knee, a bad eye, and who knows what else… but he has a business to run.
So, like a true Prole, I shoveled a literal truckload of pine needles and shrubbery into a heaping mountain of pre-compost at the dump and blasted dust into my mouth with a leaf blower. I showed up at the plant nurseries completely covered in dirt, since the sunscreen I was wearing acted as a sort of glue. I did no fewer than 50 squats as Master Gardener waved his hand around and pointed, then changed his mind. I drove a big manbearpig truck with a flapping tarp on the highway while stuffing my first Chik-fil-A waffle fry into my mouth.
After getting punched by his two Boxers (… dogs), I took the bus (again, Prole) to the next neighborhood where I got bowled over by the two pitbulls holding stuffed animals.
This doesn’t suck.
In my last job, I used to joke about how I wanted to toil in the fields. I’d say I wasn’t worried about finding another job in the sciences, and that I may very well go out and become a ditch digger. I was infinitely more exhausted by sitting behind a computer screen all day than all the times I was on my feet for 10-12 hours doing something, anything, where I could see my progress.
And I’m a caring person. I’m a tactile person. I’m a creative person. What I’m doing right now, even if it’s messy, is checking all the right boxes.
Most importantly, what’s different about this time in my life vs. ten years ago is how I do not feel ashamed of what I am doing.
I used to think it was a “step down” to do blue-collar jobs, to be working class, not to put my brain to work all hours I was awake. Let’s face it — I had a superiority complex. I was a victim of my own internal snobbery.
I’m thankful to be of a certain age where my reputation as a career intellectual is no longer as important. My entire identity isn’t hinging on this one aspect of my life.
I’ll be back to my normal content soon — if I have the wisdom to give myself a break!
Thanks for sticking with me! Take care, everyone.