Exploring life, unemployed

On unexpected reactions, "good enough handcuffs", and the trap of practicality

I was recently let go.

The news came as a total surprise, delivered on a virtual call by a seemingly distraught manager the morning after I returned from my wedding. As the HR person who later joined the call rattled off details about what to expect next, my mind tried to process what was happening.

“I just got married, guys.”

“Is this really happening?”

“I should probably do a handover document.”

“This is stupid. I hate this.”

We got off the call 10 minutes later and I sat there, a little stunned. I had just been fired, seemingly out of the blue, for the first time in my life from the most senior position in my career. Much to my surprise, there was no anger (which would have been warranted), anxiety (unemployed in this economy?), or even sadness. There was just…relief.

And relief wasn’t the emotion my brain was expecting. Over the last few years, several of my highly-qualified Communications colleagues had been let go from various companies and subsequently struggled to find work. How was I not worried? And, since we’re asking questions, why was I bordering on…happy? I couldn’t rationalize my financially and professionally cavalier feelings. In addition to feeling irresponsible, it also felt wrong to be gleeful at a time like this — like I was laughing at a funeral while others were grieving the loss of a loved one.

And yet, there I was — unemployed and relieved. Relieved there would be no more meetings that could have been emails. Relieved to get off the hamster wheel of quarterly updates, KPIs, and performance reviews. Relieved I could reclaim 30% of my life hours and spend them on something that mattered more to me and less to a company’s bottom line. Mostly, I was relieved I could stop pretending this was the life I wanted.

I also acknowledge the initial wave of relief was mostly driven by ego. A part of me felt hurt to be discarded, and another part felt “better” (whatever that means) than the work I was doing. In reality, there was nothing wrong with the job or career. I actually enjoyed what I did for many years. The problem was that I didn’t enjoy what I did for 8-10 hours a day anymore, and didn’t see a future for myself on the path I was walking.

The real relief came from what being let go truly meant: freedom from a world I couldn’t walk away from on my own. What I quickly learned was that being thrust into a situation you wanted, but didn’t step into on your own terms, holds up a mirror to all the internal contradictions that were keeping you stuck in the first place.

For one, my practical nature wouldn’t let me walk away from stable employment without a backup plan but I wasn’t taking steps towards an alternative path either. Why not? Because my comfort zone was, well, comfortable. I was good at my job and life wasn’t unbearable by any stretch of the imagination.

Forget golden handcuffs — these were good enough handcuffs.

Being fired was the breakup I knew needed to happen but never had the heart to initiate because the relationship wasn’t terrible. There were good times. Things weren’t that bad, but not really that great either. And when it comes to your career (or your life partner) is “not that bad” really the story byline you want to tell your grandkids?

The other conflict was wanting more but simultaneously judging that desire as self-indulgent. Knowing something no longer serves you should spark change, but the voice in my head said that luxury was either reserved for established writers who could afford to eat, pray, love their way to purpose or truly gifted writers whose talents could not be ignored. I was neither.

I wanted to do something I loved, but talked myself out of even figuring out what that was every time. I thought I was being realistic, playing to my strengths, and making the most of the opportunities in front of me. Turns out, I just didn’t want to fail. I wasn’t stretching myself anymore, so I wasn’t growing.

Practicality was an excuse to avoid trying, a shield against failure.

Ok, so the good enough handcuffs are off and we’re ready to escape the trap of (excessive) practicality. What next?

I was inspired by Suleika Jaouad, whose most recent book, The Book of Alchemy: A Creative Practice for an Inspired Life, offers journaling as a transformative act. Her writing career started at a moment when more time to figure things out wasn’t guaranteed. At 20, diagnosed with cancer and confined to a hospital bed, she began chronicling her experience in her New York Times column, Life, Interrupted. In an interview with NPR, she said:

“Every single one of us will have our life interrupted, whether it’s by the ripcord of a diagnosis or some other kind of heartbreak or trauma that brings us to the floor.”

My situation isn’t nearly as serious, but I do feel… interrupted (add that to the growing list of unexpected emotions). So for starters, I’m taking a page from Suleika’s journal and writing and recording voiceover for The Unemployment Diaries. I don’t know exactly what shape it’ll take, yet. Maybe essays, maybe fragments of inspiration from others. But I do know what I want it to do: birth something out of this interruption, and maybe help anyone else wrestling with what it means to build a life that actually feels like yours.

I can’t promise the reality of my bank account, or the judgment of people who seem to be doing more with their lives, won’t catch up with me. My excitement for an uncharted next few months walks in lockstep with anxiousness as the days pass without a clear direction. It’s been over a month since my last day, and writing for the love of making sense of the world still feels like a luxury I can’t afford.

But here we are anyway. For now, I’m choosing to explore life, unemployed.

“For better to come, good must stand aside.”
— Carl Jung