Work, Work, Work

Work, work, work. That's all I can see for myself now and over the course of the next 20 years. Between raising the kid and hustling for and at work, I don't expect to have any time to breathe, much less relax and enjoy myself. That's what it feels like to essentially start over in middle age in an economy that can't get its shit together to provide gainful, appropriate employment to 40% of its most recent college grads, much less someone who made the economically foolish decision to leave the paid work force for years to raise a child. The weight of work presses on me, like a bird rebuilding its nest after a tornado. Even at the end of a very productive day, I can find it difficult to relax without feeling the guilt of squandering my free time in front of the tv instead of using it to acquire another marketable job skill. I *should* be learning Mandarin, but I am watching The Mindy Project instead. No wonder I inhabit this uncomfortable purgatory of alternating periods of unemployment and temp gigs, while Oprah inhabits all of America. *She* would have opened her Mandarin book instead of reaching for the remote.

A while ago I gave up my favorite hobby, putting it on the back burner until my life stabilizes and I can afford the time and money to indulge in hobbies again. People who've known me since I was a child are surprised to hear I've gone cold turkey on this hobby that figured so prominently in my identity for so long. But I'm nothing, if not practical. And it's not practical to throw away my limited time on something that will do nothing to secure my stable future. I don't like feeling so out of balance, but until my livelihood is relaunched in a sustainable, less volatile way, I really can't afford to indulge in hobbies. When I do finally find my way in the work world, the first hobby I will reinstate is breathing -- wonderful, guilt-free breathing.