A HIPPIE, A HOBO, OR A MIDLIFE CRISIS?!
This morning I awoke unemployed. By choice. This is the first time in five and a half years I haven’t gone in to work at Sterling House and Clare Bridge of Jacksonville, two assisted living facilities housing adults with dementia and/or failing health where I worked as an Occupational Therapist and Coordinator for Physical, Occupational, & Speech Therapies. I worked with with special needs children in schools for five and a half years prior to that, so this is the first time in eleven years I’ve awoken without a job as a therapist. And it’s the first time I’ve been unemployed without the excuse of grad school since 1998 (and that was not by choice.)
Every hobo’s journey begins with a first step…and a first beer!
This plan has been percolating for nearly a year but it feels surreal now that the seed of what was once just a crazy idea (for I ALWAYS have crazy ideas percolating) has grown to fruition. The rush of emotions I’m experiencing is as diverse as the interests that spurred me to cut bait and chase my muse. I’m excited, scared, sad at the relationships I’m leaving behind, eager to make new connections, optimistic, hesitant, confused, overwhelmed, focused, confident and, strangely, a bit guilty. In a time when so many people are desperately unemployed, I feel a twinge of guilt walking away from a secure, well-paying job, even if it was driving me nuts. My burnout has been smoldering for years and deep down I knew I wasn’t as effective as I once was, but that’s just a poppycock excuse to the depression-era generation whom I served.