This morning I woke up, still asleep, thinking/feeling/knowing that I was late for work. I started to panic. My brain was all urgency and haste to prepare for work ASAP.
Then I realized I don’t have a job anymore. I’m not late for anything. My days are free of work commitments and obligations. Now I often have to look at my phone’s home screen just to remember what day of the week it is, and today is Saturday. Most people don’t work on Saturdays. I almost always did, but I was a workaholic. Most people aren’t addicted to working.
I try not to think about it too much or for too long. The pain of unemployment is still deep and physical. That thought path leads to a depression forest I can’t afford to wander in for fear of getting lost.
I stayed in bed for a long time after I realized I wasn’t in a genuine hurry to wake up. There’s no reason to pretend I’m in any rush to get on with the rest of today slash the rest of my life right now.