Welcome Home But...
In case you missed the tweets, LinkedIn posts, and sundry other social media clues, we are back. DrC and I left Amsterdam late November and shlepped home. It didn’t last. Because the original plan was to be back in mid-December, our daughter still had tenants in our bedroom. Fair enough. So after 18 hours I turned around and got on a plane to Bali. DrC went to the United States. It’s fair to say we were both enormously grateful for the break from each other. Two more weeks and another brief diversion down to Wellington to attend #2 daughter’s graduation (WOOT!), we finally settled down for a long summer’s nap in our lovely old craftsman house in beautiful north Auckland.
Except I don’t feel settled. DrC is digging in. He bought a car, freshened up his business wardrobe, started some long as house and craft projects, brewed beer, rejoined his music club. All I’ve managed is to visit a few friends and set up the computer to start sending out resumes. The turn around between now and the time I get on another plane to leave for another year is too tight, too short to feel settled. In four weeks I’ll be in California. Some time soon after I’ll most likely be in a mid-West state surrounded by strangers attempting to keep up with a bunch of 20 somethings on a progressive campaign. At least that’s how we hope it goes.
It would be both tremendously disappointing and really embarrassing if I get to the States and find out no one wants me. I mean, that’s a possibility right? I coach people through major career changes all the time, but it’s always humbling when I put myself on the other side and feel the change inside myself. It’s scary going to someplace new to do something you’ve never done with people you’ve never met. It’s terrifying to put yourself in the hands of hiring managers and say, “I’ve got three decades of experience doing these amazing things but what you probably need is for me to work my ass off doing stuff I haven’t done since college.” And the campaigns all want campaign experience so good luck getting past the post to get the resume reviewed.
Oh the sweet irony, eh?
Well if there is one thing I learned in Europe, it’s how to live on a very small amount of money. We have a bit set aside for this State-side effort so I guess the worst case scenario is all my resumes go kerflop, and I just move my ass into the coldest, spot in the known universe -- winter in Wisconsin -- and start volunteering for anyone who is working to get people recently purged back on to the election roles. Cold, miserable job but absolutely worth the effort, I’m certain.
In the meantime, New Zealand. OMG I f*in love this place. The light is different. The smell is different. The air is different. There are almost no people and the roads are ridiculously wide. Please explain to me why we can’t put dedicated bike trails everywhere? Every road in Auckland feels like twice the width of the widest road in the average European town. The airport is ridiculously small.. and yes I did tear up the first time I walked through the arch. What is up with the wind in the harbour? And why is Queen and Quay torn all to bits? They rebuilt my BP, but it still has butter chicken pies so I’m okay. How is it so quiet at night in the middle of the largest city in the country?
Had lunch with my former boss and some work colleagues yesterday. They said I look tan, relaxed, and happy… a different hippy happy Toast who even walks differently. Unwound is unbound, I guess. It was an interesting observation because -- like relatives seeing children only once a year -- their comments signal a change that I can’t see in myself or DrC. We are too close to have seen a bit by bit transformation over such a long time.
I know that what we are “supposed to do” is go to school, work for a bunch of decades, accumulate wealth and reputation, and then retire for a few more. All the unstructured loose time in our lives is piled up at the very end. But for a third time now, I broke that pattern and took a big chunk of time and money and dropped out of the world and into something else. Each time has transformed me. When I run a spot check on my internal mental state, it aligns with my friends’ external observations. I feel different. I certainly know more about the world, about Western history, about art and geography and political science and the inevitability of human conflict. I am skinnier, fitter, and more casually comfortable in my own skin than I have been since the girls were born.
Count me part of the crowd who now recommend that we create a different life, working model. Part of work/life balance should be finding ways to carve years out of the middle to spend on ourselves, our children, our partners, our mental well being. Obviously, many simply can’t. I fully recognise the enormous bougie privilege implicit in this recommendation. But more of us can than really believe it to be true. It’s about how you structure your life, your finances, and your priorities and your expectations.
At the rate I’m going, I will probably never have enough saved to fully retire. I will probably be banging away on a keyboard and coaching folks until they roll me into the collabrium. On the other hand, since I’ve basically retired several times now, I can tell you this whole not working for awhile thing is super good for you and makes it far easier to contemplate being employed until 80.
