Finding a new rhythm
Working full time means that your day has a rhythm. You generally get to your office at the same
time, every day, and you sign off at about the same time, every day. If you have been in the same job for some
years, the rhythm becomes as natural as breathing, and you don’t have to think
as much about the decisions you make.
You know what your job is, and do it.
There are always curveballs that cause you to veer left or veer right,
but you eventually get back in the path and you settle in again. Breathe in, breathe out.
When I left my full-time job behind in August, I felt as
though I had stepped off the moving sidewalk at the airport. You know, that feeling that you get when the
moving sidewalk ends and you stutter-step onto the carpet. Where am I going? What am I doing? I was nervous. Excited. Elated.
Terrified.
The best part of this change has been that I get to spend
more time with my son. I now have only two
full-time days, and on the other half-days when my son is in preschool, I get
to take him to school and pick him up.
The greatest joy of my day on his school days is not the dropoff, but
the pickup. As soon as I duck my head
into the classroom, he is barreling for me like a miniature linebacker, nearly
tackling me to the floor with his enthusiasm.
“MAMA!” he says, as though he hasn't seen me in days. These
days are more precious than gold.
The strange thing about my new part-time work life is that
my rhythm is off. What used to feel like
a metronome – tick-tock, tick-tock – now feels like I am skipping a beat on
every third. I don’t work for one
company but several. I answer to myself,
aside from the deadlines I am tasked to meet for each freelance job. I don’t have a midyear review. I don’t have to sign on to the electronic
leash, corporate instant messaging. I
don’t have anyone telling me that I have to take a trip I don’t want to take.
I can make pancakes for breakfast on a Tuesday. I can sleep until my son wakes up. I can take the afternoon to go to the
park.
It feels weird.
Almost eerie. I blink my eyes and
pinch myself. Yep, I’m awake.
Since my son was born, I dreamed of the moment I could quit
my job. It was always the plan. But the plan didn’t quite turn out the way we
had thought it would, and we needed my salary and health insurance to support
our little family. Now that we have
neither of those, we are shuffling things around and adjusting to the new
lifestyle. Above and beyond everything
else, we are all happier. My husband is
happy that he can give me the opportunity to be with our son more, even as he
worries about our bills sometimes. My
son is happier that mama doesn’t have to travel as often and I can be there
when he opens his eyes every morning.
And I am happier that I get to follow my dreams.
And they are coming true, one by one. There are so many things I can’t wait to do
and I can’t wait to reveal. In
the meantime, I am stutter-stepping off the moving sidewalk. I’m looking for that rhythm on the metronome
to feel constant again, and what I’m learning is that maybe that rhythm is
gone. Maybe the constant adjustment to
the new daily rhythm IS the beat of my life’s music.
This week, at an aviation conference I committed to a year
ago as the vice chair of the planning committee, a former airport CEO stopped
me in the hall. His smile was wide and
genuine as he searched my face and said, “You look so free. I can tell that you are so happy, and I’m
happy for you.” I notice it myself, this
happiness from within.
My rhythm is off, but my heart is playing the best song of
my life.
Love,
