Identity: Interrogations

The excuses have all fallen away now. So, what gives?

Six months ago, I wrote this post about identity and the injustice of crunching the whole of a person down into a measly little introduction. I also established that I do not want to let work define me.

Identity: Introductions

Since then, I’ve quit my job, served a ridiculously long notice, and moved on. I’m still a UI & UX Designer (which I’ll always be), but I no longer work full-time with a company.
I’m a freelancer now. I work part-time. For six precious months, I get to flip my work-life balance entirely and work only three days a week.

To rephrase, I have somehow managed to engineer a situation where I’m not entirely unemployed, not too worried about my finances — and have four days of unstructured time.

Six weeks into this shiny, new way of life, it’s time to take stock. This is me regrouping, heading back into that same room. Only this time, when I get there, I see it’s been set up for… a solo session? Kind of.

The circle of chairs is gone. The teacherly person is gone. The room is dark save for a lone chair, gleaming coldly in the light of a naked bulb. I’ll be asking the questions tonight. I’ll also be the one to answer.

Time to get uncomfortable then, and take a long, hard look — at me.

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Rewind. Think back to your last few weeks at the old job. What feelings did you feel?

Disgust at certain events that were unfolding at work around me, excitement to be on my way out, an overwhelming sadness at the prospect of leaving friends and favourite clients behind. And so much impatience to start my new life.

Fast-forward. You have your new life! How did those first few weeks feel?

Promising, but not awesome.

If I’m being honest, all that lack of structure was a little disorienting, and all the free time a little bit terrifying.

Maybe I expected too much. Maybe I’m not cut out for balance. Maybe I’m not much more than my work after all and maybe I’ll never create anything for the sake of creating again and maybe I’m too old and it is too late?

An idle mind is a devil’s workshop. Busy-ness keeps my demons at bay. I knew this once, and now I know it again. Lift your nose from the grindstone — and it’s just too fucking easy to spiral out.

Ouch. Let’s not think about feelings then. What have you done thus far with the rest of your time?

I attended two free art classes and ghosted a third. I did one drawing class on Skillshare and drew surprisingly little, but well.

I acquired far too much new stationery and started multiple types of journals simultaneously and then kept up with none.

I worked out fairly consistently but learned that my shins are still not cleared for running. I started a new routine of walking most mornings. I went on one funny, failed trek. A non-trek if you will.
I attended a free trial for a bouldering class and loved it. (I have signed up for more.)

I’ve hit upon a long streak of good books that I hope won’t end anytime soon. This means I spent a lot of time reading and doing nothing. I also travelled to Abu Dhabi to see my sister and continued to read and do nothing there.

I tried my hand at writing fiction and think it went pretty well. (My audience of 1 agrees.)

I upgraded my D&D character with more care than ever before.

I took myself out for several coffees.

That all sounds quite nice. Why don’t you sound happier?

Because. I still don’t have a true schedule in place. I like structure. I like knowing the contour of my days. I haven’t made any strides with any of my creative skills. One month later, I still don’t have a daily practice or a body of work.

My attention span is in tatters and my mind keeps jumping from task to task to thought to worry so that often, nothing gets done. I met a friend recently who used a phrase I’m going to borrow because I think it describes this feeling precisely. ‘I have too many tabs open’ and I worry that I lack the strength to close them.

I feel anxious when I’m not ‘productive’. I hate that I’ve allowed myself to be wired this way when it goes against so much that I believe. This is something I’m actively trying to change.

Lastly, I often have a vague feeling of ought-to-be-elsewhere-ness that I haven’t quite figured out.

Note: I’m keenly aware of my immense privilege and the obnoxious, first-world nature of these problems. Know that I don’t mean to be ungrateful or whiny. I’m just in the mood to dig at things today.

Okay, good! Let’s not be ungrateful then. Tell me what went well.

My new work feels good. I’m working on meaty problems with real-world implications. I fly solo most of the time and while I miss having friends online all day long, there is so much scope for deep work. My days are mine to do with as I please, and I’m answerable only for my own output. There is no one to supervise, no egos to soothe, no extra meetings, no shticks or marketing gimmicks, no euphemisms or protests to swallow. It’s just me and my work and that has been truly calming.

Also, now the initial shock has worn off, the weirdness of my week is beginning to feel less unnatural.

So, what now?

Now, we make plans! I’m different people on different days and today I’m a Person Who Plans. I have a loose structure in mind to try out over the next few weeks. It’s meant to be pretty trial-and-error, and I’ll tweak it as I go.

I have no doubt, of course, that at some point in the next few days, I will be a Person Who Despairs or a Person Who Protests again, and all said plans will fall apart. But that’s alright. Contrary to popular belief, I’m a bit of an optimist. I’ve never had much follow-through, but that has never stopped me from making my precious, ambitious plans :)

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My work does not define me, but at the end of these six months, I hope I at least partially figure out what does, and have some evidence to support it.

And if I don’t — these slow, blank-page months are still a gift. For a brief window in time, the Universe has conspired to give me an amazing fucking deal and I hope I have the wisdom to appreciate it, even when I choose to wallow.