The Empty Time & Space Connundrum

Today is my first official day of being unemployed. Technically, I was done with everything work-related Friday afternoon when I handed my store keys over to a contractor who had been hired to rip apart what was left of the building. However, today is Monday, and everyone in my family is either at school or work, and so today is the first day that feels different. A month ago, Mondays were my favorite day. The to-do list in my planner was bigger than the little block of space allowed. Conference calls and check-ins, numbers to analyze, reports to write. Now, there is simply nothing.

I spent some time this morning sending out resumes to a few promising positions. I made breakfast for myself. I took the dog out. I made coffee, and then I made more coffee because there is never really enough. And then the restlessness and the anxiety began inching in. I have never fared well with idle time. Regardless of how much I wish for it, I don’t know what to do with it once I have it. It’s so quiet in my house at the moment. The only sound is the typing on my laptop and the hands of a clock tick-tocking on the bookshelf. There is a list a mile long of things that I could be doing. There is laundry to fold, a dishwasher to unload, a never-ending list of little tasks that I could breeze through so that I feel incredibly accomplished and productive. I thought about painting my bathroom this week, rearranging some furniture, organizing some of the miscellaneous piles of endless things that I always want to get to when I am busy off rushing off to some other obligation. And yet, here I sit, almost frozen with an inability to choose. Why is it so impossible for me to just exist, to relax?

Last week, my team and I hustled everyday to pack all of the items, props, and supplies into cheap moving boxes (taped with even cheaper moving tape), shipping things across the country to store locations that didn’t have their leases cancelled. I went home every afternoon both mentally and physically exhausted, barely making it past 9:30pm before I was sound asleep, ready to do it again the following day. While a part of me could not wait to be finished, the other part wanted to slow down and linger just a little bit longer. I was just so sad to let go of this part of me that was ending prematurely. I felt like I wasn’t done there yet. I had more goals to achieve and accomplishments to check off my list. I had demonstrated that I could work my way to the top, but I hadn’t proven that I could stay there.

Last night, my team and I gathered for one last time to celebrate the end of our little era. We had dinner at PF Chang’s, ordering pots of tea and pretty pink cocktails, sharing plates of crab rangoon, and laughing about the silliest parts of our time together. We were an eclectic bunch, composed of people who would probably otherwise never find themselves in the same room together. I found myself looking at each person and feeling so happy that this crazy little job brought each of them into my life. I know that there will be new adventures and new teammates down the line, but this group was unmatched. It’s hard to find people that you simply mesh with at work, and it was a travesty to have to go our separate ways. We promised to keep our group chat going, and I hope that we do.

Almost everyone who wants one has already found a new position. I was offered a role last week that I am equally excited and unsure of. I worry that I won’t be challenged the way I am accustomed to being. The idea of beginning again is not one that I am thrilled about. I have applied for the most random things, opportunities that I have the experience and knowledge to be successful in, but which are outside of my standard wheelhouse. By now, I thought that I would be doing something other than managing another store in another shopping center for yet another retailer. Is it any wonder that I feel anxious and incomplete? I want more, but I don’t know where to find it.

So now what? I suppose that I will hunker down with a book and force myself to hold still for awhile. It isn’t necessary to always be moving. The phone ringer can be silenced for a bit. Maybe I’ll take a nap and then do a little yoga later. It’s past time for me to fill my own bucket a bit, even if I’m unsure of how I should best go about it.

For once, I have the time to figure it out.