I have been working since I was 12 years old. I had a paper route that was handed down from my older brother to me and later to my younger sister. It was the Columbia Flier, it came out once a week on Thursdays. It paid 10 dollars and change a month. I spent most of my money at the arcade playing Ms. Pacman, a quarter a game.
My most recent job was a director of communications and marketing at a legal nonprofit. I was at that place for 14 years.
In between, I have worked a number of jobs and held various titles—cashier, administrative assistant, writer, editor, columnist, senior editor, director of communications, recruiter, associate director, publicist, director of communications and marketing. Now, nothing. I have stepped off all tracks. I am unmoored.
This feeling of being unmoored is a difficult place for me. I am so used to being scheduled. I recently completed my MBA. I have left my job and I can go about a year without having to find another. I need the break. I need a break. Except, I have no idea how to take a break.
Is this a break or a break-up? Am I done with work in the traditional sense? You know, 9-5 Monday through Friday, beholden to one company, one position, one mission, one set of someone else’s goals. Who knows?
After all, I am the woman who brought a laptop to Cal Ripken Jr. and Tony Gwynn’s induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame, to squeeze in work between induction speeches. In fact, one man asked me if I was going to actually do work during the ceremony (I thought about it).
I bring laptops to the beach, my safe space where I go to clear my head and forget about the world, except for those pieces that can be transmitted across my screen.
Late into the evening, I check—and respond—to email. This happens on Saturdays and Sundays, too. And on vacations.
When I go on vacation, I actually tell people that I am checking email occasionally and that I’m available via text. In fact, the only time that I have been completely out of touch is when I travel abroad or go on a cruise. My last cruise, I half-expected a page over the loudspeaker asking me to get in touch with my boss. To have boundaries during a break, I have to be off U.S. soil or out at sea. How ridiculous is that?
So, you see why I might have a bit of a problem shutting down, turning off, dumping work. I have a break, and my biggest fear isn’t my next paycheck or whether I am still employable. My biggest concern is being unmoored, not having a purpose. As part of my wind-down before going on this break (break-up?), I tasked myself with mapping out my first 30 days of not having a clock to punch.
This is what I came up with:
Day 1:
Chill. And I mean it. Kick around. Do nothing. Eat whatever. Decompress.
Day 2:
Outline the Great American Novel … It was the best of times, it was the worst of times
My husband had to help me with Day 2.
How pathetic am I?
In this overscheduled, overworked, over-everything world I have navigated since I was 12, I now need lessons in slowing down.
I have been hitting the gas for more than three decades, now I must hit the brakes. I really hope I remember how to stop this car.
Update:
My break lasted 2.5 months. During this time, which fell during the pandemic, I organized our home and set up a home gym. Most importantly, I have found work that aligns with my purpose of helping women find financial security. To that end, I have rebranded my PR company: Williams Public Relations is now Williams Communications, Marketing & Branding, where I continue to focus on getting businesses up and running. I also have launched the personal finance website SaveYourSelf.biz and started working with a nonprofit that helps people in West Baltimore become homeowners.
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