My last day of work was 22 days ago. Here is what I thought I would have done by now:
- Decided which of my 60+ books I want to read first
- Read 2-3 of those books
- Selected a few new healthy recipes to try for the first time
- Cooked those recipes and taken dinner over to a working friend to eat
- Adjusted my sleep schedule so I awaken in the 7’s or 8’s
- Unpacked the 6 boxes that I brought home from the office
- Visited my friends who are on maternity leave
Of those, what I’ve actually done:
Yep, a big blank. Zero. Nil. Nothing. None of the above.
It has not hit me yet. Life still feels like an extended vacation. Mind you, I never took 22 consecutive days of vacation. I probably never even took 22 non-consecutive days of vacation in a single year.
I thought I would be doing all of those relaxing things on my list. Instead, it took until day 20 for me to have a (mostly) unplanned weekday that involved pilates, a massage, a nap and finishing my book—one that was a departure gift, not one of the 60+ on my shelf. I think this is what most people envision I’ll be doing every day. I thought I’d be doing it occasionally; I just didn’t think it would take three weeks to do it. It also took going to Atlanta for this day to happen.
I have spent exactly seven nights in my own house. The others have been spent in Baltimore, New York City, Poughkeepsie, Boston, Towson (Baltimore suburb) and Atlanta. All of this moving around probably contributes to my not fully getting what it means to no longer have a job.
I’ve also stayed mentally connected to my job, I mean former job, by talking with potential applicants about the new pro bono counsel position, having a stress dream about a clinic I helped plan that happened after I left and answering a smattering of questions from colleagues. I mean former colleagues. I catch myself saying, “we” and “my firm” even though it is now “they” and “my former firm.”
So, I wonder, when will it hit? When will I wake up with the lighthearted, free feeling I expected? I’ll let you know.