On Going Back to Work

I applied for a job today.

Lately, with the help of my psychotherapist, I have begun to realize how unsatisfying unemployment is.  When I first quit work, I struggled with the feeling that I was useless and going nowhere, but I eventually learned to enjoy the freedom of not working.  Hal supported me while I wrote, went to writing conferences, writers’ club meetings and other activities related to my dream of becoming a writer.  I took an occasional art class or music lesson, pursued my interest in the martial arts, and did some volunteer work.  I did most of the errand-running and housework at home, so Hal could simply come home from work and relax.  Basically, I was a 1950s housewife.

Now that Hal is gone, I no longer enjoy unemployment.  I worry that Hal’s insurance money will run out, leaving me with no way to pay my bills.  I dream of being a writer, but I don’t seem to be able to work hard enough at it to realize this dream.  My psychotherapist suspects that I don’t really want to write novels or screenplays, but actually want to be free to pursue whatever catches my interest.  If I can write about what has my attention at the moment, then I’m not just “dong nothing,” I’m conducting research.

The problem with having an assured income (for the moment) and no job to fill my day is that I don’t have to budget my time.  I have all day, all week, all month to write, so why hurry?  I can watch the House M.D. marathon and write tomorrow.  If I had a job, my free time would be more precious to me, and I would actually find that I get more done.  That’s the theory.

After my last session, I decided that I would give myself a few more months to approach writing like a business and actually acquire a career as a novelist or screenwriter.  Then Sologig sent me a notice about a writing job at NASA.  It’s only part-time, which would allow me to pursue my other interests, yet it promises to provide me with enough income to significantly cut the amount of money I pull from my investments for my living expenses.  And I could see myself doing the job.  I sent in my resume.

But now I have a new problem, though one that’s not too unpleasant.  If I get called for an interview, I need a suit.  If I get hired, I need a work wardrobe.  I had not planned to buy work clothes, thinking that I would wait until I could fit into the clothes I wore when I last worked, before I gained too much weight to wear them.  I may have to spend money buying clothes that will soon be too big for me.