It’s been almost two weeks since I left the family law job. And it’s taken that long to feel myself starting to decompress. Slowing down again and coming back to me is proving (ironically) a slow process.
For the past five months I have felt like a tube of toothpaste that is being squeezed tight to extract the last splodge. Physically it left me with pounding heart and muscle tension throughout my body. Emotionally I was spent, feeling anxious and stressed most of the time. I’d lost connection with the person I became before: the writer, the lover, the uncle and the friend.
Laughter and a slower pace are slowly returning to my life. This week I laughed spontaneously for the first time in months. That’s not to say I haven’t had times of laughter and happiness. But there is a difference between the laugh we allow ourselves between a busy life and the spontaneous playfulness of freedom. Slowing down too is a challenge again. It takes effort not to race around and be “productive” all the time. Sure, I don’t want to be a lazy slob but when I lived more slowly I was more in the moment, whatever the moment might be.
The patience is slower to return. Even this process of allowing myself to decompress and trusting that I will come back to my centre is an act of patience. I’ve been here before way back in 2014 when I first started this quest for 42. It took four weeks to start to feel slower then and twelve to meet myself for the first time. Fortunately, I have met myself now so I can recognise the differences. I can see the work me and the real me more clearly. So perhaps I’ll come back sooner. But I can’t rush. That’s the point. I just have to wait.
So what am I doing now? What does this post mean? Here’s the brief timeline:
I quit my job as a lawyer after five tough months. I worked hard to establish Men’s Legal Service for my boss but discovered I truly do hate the conventional 9-5 office existence. I could tell I was unhappy because I started to run long distances again – something painful that always means I am searching for something more. A warning sign I guess.
I’ve taken a job as a casual support worker assisting people with disabilities. It’s meaningful work and I get about 20-30 hours a week spread over 7 days. Some days I work 8-10 hours while others I only work 2. It’s a nice mix.
While my lawyering gig was a 65km commute by car or motorbike, my new job is local to home so I have started cycle commuting again. Not that I call 5km (1.5 miles) a commute.
I feel connected with my work now too. It’s meaningful to me. Not to say family law isn’t a valuable profession but it wasn’t a calling for me. It was just a way to earn a pay cheque. Support work is more than that – it speaks to my heart. There’s something special about it that I can’t describe.
My only sadness is that I sold my wheelchair bike and didn’t make a good go of that project. But cognitively I know it couldn’t work because I can’t afford the insurance. But it would have been nice to keep trying and to have followed my heart. Things happen for a reason though and the money I got for the bike is allowing us to travel to Holland for Christmas and New Year. And the project was a source of frustration too. So I am working on letting that go and being in the moment.
And the sea change is allowing me to be more connected with Paul and others in my life. I feel my old self coming back again.