Week one, day three, and I miss my colleagues (who I've spent most of my waking hours with over the last four years, many of whom are very good friends). I miss my routine (even though I was terrible at getting to work on time), and I miss my sense of purpose to the day (even though I counted down the hours till I could leave work). I also feel a bit resentful, bizarrely, that whereas daytime TV used to be a guilty pleasure, in a tee-hee-I-should-be-working sort of way, now it just makes me feel unemployed. I'm in danger of forgetting why I took that leap off the cliff and in danger of regretting it already.
In short, I wanted my life back. I wanted to get control back over what was most important to me, have time and energy to spend with friends and family, enjoy my weekends instead of being too tired and too stressed to do anything but sleep. I wanted to learn to cook, get fitter, spend more time outside, learn what birds visit my garden to eat the birdfood I dutifully put out each day before disappearing till it's dark. And I wanted to revel in the possibilities and choices now open to me, and to enjoy exploring them.
So my first action is to work on my new daily and weekly routine. Of course, job-hunting, networking etc will play a part (as, unfortunately, will fighting with HR over my missing P45 - only the start of the bureaucracy I'm up against, I'm sure). But I will also take a photo every day, take a walk once a week, finally get to a yoga class, cook the vegetables that arrive in my veg box rather than throwing them away guiltily and having frozen pizza again. I'll remember everybody's birthdays, phone my friends up north more regularly, play with my niece and nephew whenever I get the chance. I'll apply for volunteering for causes I'm passionate about. I'll learn new things about myself. I'll take every day as a gift, until the next job comes along.
And I'll renew my passport. You never know where those possibilities and choices might take me.
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