Now that I’ve been unemployed for over 8 months, I’m learning a few things about myself. While many of these things weren’t a surprise, some of them genuinely caught me off guard — like the not working out one. (Spoiler alert.) That said, it’s hard to not get down and out. When rejections come or, worse, the silence after three panel interviews in what felt like a finalist round, it’s easy to get in my head, question my talent, wonder if I do actually have anything to offer the world. I try not to let myself go there too often or for too long. Some things that have helped are my guitar lessons and practicing — it’s such pure beginner’s mind that it’s all encompassing. But I’m also understanding that I need to carve out time for play (like writing, painting, running around in the back yard with my dogs) so that I’m not endlessly scrolling my email or social or, worst of them all, LinkedIn.

The point is, I need to write and share, and I’m hoping to make this a more regular practice.

So, here are 10 lessons I’ve learned from being unemployed…

(1) I will not go to the gym everyday. Or even workout.

As previewed above, this one was a real head-scratcher for me. I’d always imagined a work-free Heather would be at the gym near daily. I love to workout. I like activity. It feels good to move my body. And while the decade of my 30s might have been an over-flex with how much training I did with a non-stop calendar of races and events, I’ve always enjoyed a run, walk or cycle. Yoga makes me feel human again and I can appreciate the gains that come from dedicated weight-training. Shoot, most of my favorite vacations have had me in tears at the point of exhaustion from climbing a mountain. I love that shit.

So, it was a real surprise when I entered this phase of needing-to-be-nowhere that I felt such strong resistance to leaving the house. What did my physics teacher say? An object in motion stays in motion — and an object at rest stays at rest? Well, I am very much the latter. The less I move, the less I want to move. If there isn’t a real reason to leave the house (like for an appointment or an in-person coffee date), I find it very hard to muster the will to put on shoes and walk out my back door. For the gym. To go to the store. To even go to my favorite, favorite coffee shop. The longer I lay in bed in the morning or sit in front of my computer, the more the excuses appear:

too much to do

too tired

I’ll workout tomorrow

and on,

and on,

and on.

So, I’ve had to have some tough conversations with myself. I find if I get to the gym first thing in the morning, that helps — no time to make excuses. I also find that if I sign up for a class and force myself to keep the reservation beyond the two-hour cancellation window, it’s enough accountability to get my butt in the car. And, in a moment of possible delusion, I actually signed up for the TC 10 Miler (I haven’t done even a 5k in years) — so I have to train.

But the truth is, with endless time, I’m not the dedicated gym-goer I thought I would be. I actually benefited from the structure of working out within a schedule, and that was a hurdle I didn’t anticipate.

(2) I still don’t enjoy meal prep.

Some background: I’ve been married over 30 years. My husband loves to cook. And this is the first time I haven’t worked full time during the duration of our marriage, which is basically all of my adult years. Therefore, I’ve been very fortunate to have my own personal chef at home. James is a great cook and it amazes me that he will have the energy to fix an entire dinner (including garnishes and plating) after a full day of work.

Me, on the other hand — I really don’t enjoy cooking most of the time. I don’t hate the kitchen. I’m a pretty good baker and I can follow a NYTimes recipe like the best of them. But if I don’t have the expanse of time and am not “in the mood to cook,” I don’t want to do it.

That said, when I decided to take a 6-month sabbatical before starting down the career reinvention path, I knew there was a shift in household labor that needed to occur.

I have tried to cook more regularly. I do some level of meal planning. And I now go to the grocery co-op more than ever before — it’s a 3–4x a week thing.

But I don’t like it. I don’t enjoy it. I have to force myself through the motions. And I really, really miss having an organic cafe downstairs in the office to fix me lunch.

I’m putting in the effort, though. I’m trying to be a good partner and I am getting better at finding recipes suited to my desire to get things done quickly, efficiently, and as healthily as possible.

(3) I am capable of feeding myself.

So, about that cooking thing. Turns out, necessity is the mother of invention — and also the mother of the perfect jammy egg.

My go-tos: hard boiled eggs — my trick is to heat up the water with the eggs already in, and as soon as it starts to boil, set my timer for 8–9 minutes, then place the eggs into an ice bath. I have them MULTIPLE times per week, usually alongside a bowl of yogurt with flax meal and a couple of mandarins. Avocado toast and grilled cheese with my homemade sourdough (something I actually do like to make) is an easy standby. And I’ve also learned to steam eggs in my rice cooker.

Other easy meals: boxed organic mac & cheese with kimchi and a protein (canned tuna, SPAM, shredded chicken); steamed rice with a little soy sauce, kimchi, and protein sprinkled with sesame seeds and flaked seaweed chips; soup with whatever leftover veggies are in the fridge, Better than Bouillon stock, and canned beans; baked potatoes topped with Siete charro beans; any salad mix from the co-op with the canned smoked trout from TJ’s.

My goal is to spend as little time in the kitchen as possible, but I’m happy to report that the frozen microwave meals aren’t as much of a staple as they had been. That’s a win for both my pocketbook and my sodium levels.

(4) Structure can be a good thing.

Kind of to the point about not leaving the house — the less structured I am, the less productive I am. I should have known this about myself like I know I don’t like to cook. Structure is the bread-and-butter of my professional work. I love a good plan, a checklist, guardrails and requirements. But when it came time to sit down and work through what I want to do next, I knew the steps I wanted to take, and then I’d sit at my computer and find myself scrolling Threads for an hour, hop to my email and scroll for another hour, then reward myself for all that “hard work” by plopping on the couch to watch an episode of Housewives before heading back to my office and starting the whole cycle over again until about 4pm, when I’d be frustrated the day was nearly gone.

I spent years resentful of a 9-to-5 that took away options. But I’m now realizing that with unscheduled expanses of time, I don’t always make the best choices. So while I’m not saying I want to go back on the clock with a traditional 40+ hour work week, I do now better understand how it gave me structure to get things done both professionally and personally.

One thing that’s helping, I started this in February, is having an accountability partner. We meet on Monday mornings, share our goals for the week, and it helps me stay on task knowing we’ll check in on each other. A second thing is a virtual whiteboard I created with all my focus project tracks. I keep it open on my laptop 24/7, and when you’re constantly looking at something, you can’t ignore it. Finally, re: the gym thing, I’m starting to set my alarm to get there before my workday starts. That way it’s out of the equation, I’m more awake, and even if I don’t accomplish a lot for the rest of the day — I did that.

(5) Midday errands are the best.

You all already know this, but I still feel compelled to share, because there is nothing as glorious as strolling through the Trader Joe’s on Washington Avenue after a 2pm guitar lesson at McPhail. Parking is easy, the aisles are navigable, and the freezer section is typically well stocked. It is a cruel trick of the modern-era work week that relegates us to errands on weekends. And if the pandemic taught us anything, it’s that it’s better to have options.

Right now, I’m just taking advantage of the flexibility. I make my appointments outside the house from 10am–2pm, which makes traffic typically a non-issue, and I never hit the grocery after 3pm. I’ve learned that our local co-op does stock rotisserie chickens because I get there early enough to grab one. And not waiting in line at the tailor or UPS is a little gift that makes the errand less errandy. Don’t even get me started on dropping off a purge at Goodwill with no line of cars in sight.

Whatever schedule my next chapter of work has me on, I hope this is one of the few luxuries I can maintain at least once a week.

(6) Things can get lonely.

This one! I’m an introvert at heart and I’ve always adored my alone time. I’m 100% one of those people whose energy is drained from public events. When I was working, I needed an hour minimum to transition from the office to home before any conversation could be had. Usually, the first thing I’d do after taking my shoes off was hit the bed for a snuggle with a pup while I rebounded from the stimulation of the day.

But now that I’m home almost 24/7, I’m realizing that those office hours weren’t a complete drain. I had coworkers to run ideas through, collaborate with, or just shoot the shit. I often lamented that most of my calls were online with people in NYC, but now I realize that was still connection, even at a distance.

I’ve had to put myself out there more. Set up coffee dates. Text my friends more frequently. Get to the gym for a group class. Head to the coffee shop just so I’m not just breathing my own air. Because if I’ve noticed anything, it’s that my brain goes darkest when I’m alone. And the more alone I am, the darker it can get.

I always thought a 100% remote position would be ideal. I could be with my dogs. I’d have ultimate flexibility. But now I’m realizing how important a level of physical connection with other humans actually is. I didn’t have this revelation during the pandemic because my husband was home and we had a very social quarantine bubble of friends. But the past almost 9 months have been lonely with just me. The huskies are, and always will be, my BFFs, but I need to see you people too, and in person, ideally.

(7) Having space to learn keeps the brain young.

One of the best things about the time off was getting to do all the things I never “had time for” — like learning Reiki energy healing, how to make sourdough, and how to play guitar. As a digital marketer, I’ve always considered myself an always-learner, but that learning usually revolved around digital tech, social media platforms, and consumer trends.

Learning something like guitar when you have no background in music and have never picked one up in your 53 years of life is a different kind of learning curve — and a BIG one. But it’s been a cool experience. I’m building new neural pathways, and I’ve even heard theories that learning something new slows down time because you aren’t just going through the motions of something you’ve done a million times.

It’s also been a great opportunity to flex the “being really bad at something” muscle, something we humans usually avoid in adulthood at all costs. Two weeks ago, I started group beginner lessons. Before that, I was doing one-on-one. And let me tell you, walking into a group and being the least-skilled person in the room is not a feeling I’m used to. But it’s been good for me. Also, being vulnerable like that in community really shows how good people can be. Every person I sit next to on Tuesday nights in the MacPhail classroom is compassionate and kind, and we come together each week because we love music.

The same goes for the Reiki education community I’ve met at Green Lotus Yoga and Healing, as well as my fellow psychic psychology classmates in Saint Paul community ed. I even joined an 8-week menopause cohort — a valuable resource and an amazing way to meet people with reproductive organs in the same phase of life.

I was really struggling 5 years ago. I was fatigued, had brain fog, and felt like life was passing me by. While a lot of that was undiagnosed perimenopause, there was also a pattern of not trying new things or putting myself out there. Now, armed with both HRT and a local community education catalog, I feel like the world is my oyster. My brain feels sharper than ever and ready to soak it all in.

(8) It takes time to figure out who you are.

For 30+ years, a business owned 50+% of my brain space because I was an employee. It’s a wild change to go from that to all me, all the time. When I first learned my position at the company that employed me for 14+ years was being eliminated, I knew I wanted to take a break, and then after that I would either pursue a new full-time role or explore my own consultancy. What I didn’t know was how difficult it would be to start that process after the time off. There were also factors at play, like the ICE occupation of Minnesota that put us all into fight-or-flight mode. But I also realized it’s a process. I had more healing to do than I ever recognized. And I did work on that through my sabbatical. I’m continuing to do that work now. My therapist regularly encourages me to listen to my gut, explore options I’d never considered, and tap into the universe for answers. Instead of just doing what I know how to do, take time to explore what lights me up, what drains me, where I feel called to serve.

Those are big questions. I’m honestly still working on it. Some days I want to jump back into brand building. On others, I want to open a metaphysical shop where I take aura photos, sell tarot cards, and practice Reiki healing. I’m considering what a life looks like making considerably less money. What can I do without? Or do I just make one final big professional push before I retire?

I’m not sure yet. But I’m realizing it’s okay. This time to do this work is a gift.

(9) My dogs are truly the laziest.

No, really. They are.

(10) There will always be too much to do.

Again, I thought I had all this time. Time to workout. Time to knit. Time to make giant pots of soup from scratch and walk my huskies for hours.

In reality, the days go just as fast as when I had a 9-to-5. The time it takes to submit one application can be a half-day process, even with the support of AI. My inbox is just as full. The laundry still needs to be done. My box of “to-sell-on-Poshmark” keeps filling up, and I still never remember to send my family’s birthday cards on time.

Our capitalistic culture has created this expectation to be over-productive. Over-deliver. Have a side hustle. Make your pie crust from scratch and save time for self-care that needs to include a sauna and gua sha and red-light therapy. See? Even self-care is stressful.

I was talking to my therapist about this a few sessions ago. “I just want one week to rot on the couch, but I feel like I need to be doing all the things.”

“Why?” was her only response.

“I dunno. Because they need to get done. Because I need these things to be healthy, productive, employable?”

“Why?” she asked again.

“I don’t know.”

My default mode was constant motion — work things, pleasure things, every single thing. I went through my 6-month sabbatical pretty damn busy, honestly. I never did take a week to couch rot.

Then, midway into February, I got sick. Like, really, really “can’t move off the couch” sick. And then, finally, I allowed myself to rot. I watched three seasons of Industry, got caught up on all the Housewives, slept even more than my normal 8–9 hours a night. And you know what? It was fine.

I didn’t get to all the things that need to be done. The world did not end. My husband didn’t divorce me. In fact, the huskies might have been secretly proud that I was achieving their level of sloth.

There will always be too much to do.

But you don’t have to do it all.

So, there you have it. 10 lessons from being home, being unemployed, and being on the journey of reinvention. We are all a work in progress. Love you all. Thanks for reading. XO.