Being unemployed does funny things to you, friends. I was chatting with my significant other recently, about the various things I have been doing to fill my unemployed time at home. I said, “I really don’t like not working.” My boyfriend said, “I don’t like you not working, either.”
I paused. Stared. My eyes filled with stinging tears, and an enraged heat washed over me instantly.
“What does that mean? Am I lazy? Do you think I could be doing something more productive? It’s not like I stay in my pajamas all day, you know. Today I got dressed at like 11. Yesterday it was even 10:30. I do things. I do a lot of stuff, like unloading the dishwasher.” At least I think that’s something like what I said; I was too furious and humiliated by his implied accusations to keep accurate notes.
He waited until I had choked back the sobs and said, “I just meant that I can tell you’re happier when you’re working. You need to interact with people sometimes.”
Oh.
I calmed down, but I still thought he was a little off-base. I mean, let’s consider. I can stay up late painting Wonderful stuff to sell and not have to worry about waking up at 6 AM for a job where I sit, miserable, in a cubicle all day. I save a lot on gas by not battling other commuters for an hour and a half Monday through Friday. I don’t have to pretend anyone’s jokes are funny, muster the strength to avoid the cupcakes someone put in the break room, or deal with those awkward moments when someone in the next stall in the restroom wants to engage in small talk.
And the first few weeks of unemployed life were amazing. Sure, money was much tighter, but life was good! I spent a few hours each day painting or wood burning, and I was networking, job searching, reading, walking, and basically getting things done. I was up by 9, in bed around midnight. Even when I began to get discouraged about how difficult the job market is right now, I somehow remained positive. I was thinking, “I got this. I won’t be one of those guys who sits on the couch all the time.”
Really, I though I had this.
The other day, I watched three episodes of a documentary mini-series called The West. Six hours, guys. I woke up, saw that there were no new job postings online, cried for ten minutes, and then I sat from 9 Am until 3 PM learning about various Native American tribes, Sam Houston, and the Civil War. Glassy-eyed, vulnerable, huddled beneath my blanket, I absorbed the knowledge pouring forth from my television. I hardly moved, other than checking Etsy and Facebook on my phone, but that was only acceptable to me because my phone was within four inches of my hand. It was only when I began considering how I could get a food delivery person to physically bring the food into the apartment and to my couch that I stopped to reflect.
I realized that I have developed some of the dreaded unemployment disorders I’ve seen in others: Apathy, defensiveness, weepiness, fear of showering. I suppose that the first step is admitting you have a problem, right? I need to act quickly before this new week begins, so I’ve taken some positive steps. I dusted off my little notebook that (until recently) featured scores of daily lists of things that need doing, and made a plan for tomorrow. I also picked out some great new pieces to paint this week for the shop (stay tuned), cleaned up the apartment, and I even checked off my first to-do: write another frigging blog post, already. And hey, if I find this new path to be too strenuous by Wednesday or so, there’s always:
Wonderful Little Things 
