I miss daily blogging with no real theme or agenda – just writing about my day. So here goes!

My creative and productive energy comes and goes in waves, and honestly I have a hard time knowing when it’s going to cross from “fun” into “overwhelming” or vice versa. For the past month or so, wedding planning was firmly in the “overwhelming” category, and subsequently I shut down all my creative projects, whether that meant managing Roar Cat Reads’ content or planning hang outs with friends. I hunkered at home most of the time, contentedly using my anxiety coping strategy of listening to podcasts while working on paint-by-numbers. Seriously, these things are amazing if you want to hyper-fixate on details that aren’t hard to accomplish but use up just enough brain power to negate spiraling thoughts.

A couple weeks ago, Rachel and I found a wedding planning hack. You see, I am the more naturally organized of the two of us, and for most of the past year, I would assign tasks to Rachel that seemed easy to me but caused her a lot of anxiety (we are two anxious little critters over here). I felt overwhelmed with managing the planning as well as managing her emotions, and she felt like she was letting me down but didn’t feel able to do anything about it. Finally, I thought of the solution, and I’ll bet you won’t guess what it is.

Love languages! On one particularly harrowing day, I suggested that we assign tasks differently. What if I just took full control of wedding planning as an act of service (Rachel’s love language)? And equally important, what if Rachel showered me in praise and bought me little treats (my love languages)? This was a GAME CHANGER. I gleefully checked off tasks from the wedding to-do list while Rachel bought me caramel cold brew coffees, shouted “You’re incredible!” and did little dances for me.

Fight smarter, not harder.

That was a little while ago, and since then, we’ve finally checked off all of the major must-dos. We’re going to have a wedding, and at least if something terrible happens, I can say, “I did think about that and made a plan, but something out of my control happened!” which matters more to me than an actual perfect wedding matters.

I thought I would want to rest after accomplishing this big event planning masterpiece, but no! Immediately, I started fantasizing about redoing our apartment, and when I say that within, like, three days we bought new furniture, made it, rearranged everything, and sold old pieces, I am not exaggerating. “It’s a new space for our married life!” Rachel keeps saying while I high five her incessantly. It looks so good and includes a wall that is nearly floor-to-ceiling shelves full of board games and books. I am happy.

Now that this project is nearly done, what will be next? Will I rest? Will I come up with some new scheme? Will I hang out with people in real life? Well…I’ve started blogging again, and only just realized that perhaps this is where I want to be pouring my energy right now. We’ll see how long this lasts!

I’m reading: Spoiler Alert: The Hero Dies by Michael Ausiello. My cousin recommended this memoir to me, and I stayed up late last night finishing it in tears and laughter (it is somehow that kind of book).

I’m watching: Mythic Quest for the second time because I finally laughed hard enough at it that Rachel wanted to see what was going on and we started from the beginning.

For my entire adult life, I moved to a new city or country every 2-4 years. In the past 14 years, I have lived in six different places, four of which were different countries.. No matter how much I fell in love with the place or especially the people, I couldn’t ignore the siren song of new cultures, new challenges, and new experiences.

In my late 20s, it started to wear me out. I have been extremely lucky to find fun, supportive, and meaningful communities everywhere I have lived. For a long time, I framed it this way: The world is so vast, and there are people who could be my best friend everywhere-I want to find them! But as I grew older, I saw the difference between relationships based on time versus those that were new. I craved relationships with rich memory banks, people who knew me over years of changes and interests and conversations. Instead of expanding wider, I wanted to go deeper.

I thought Greece would be the place where I would do that. After finishing my initial year in Athens, I excitedly told everyone that I was ready to commit to another five years with an eye to stay longer. But then immigration issues and red tape made staying overly complicated, and after two three-month visits, I said goodbye to Greece.

That disappointment fueled my desire to put down roots in a place where my status would be easily managed. An obvious question is why I didn’t just return to live in my home country, to which I say: Pfh! I still wanted the mystique and adventure of living abroad, but with a much stronger dose of safety. When the opportunity to move to Vancouver, Canada presented itself, I seized it.

I have now lived here for three years, I have permanent residency for at least another five, and I have no intention of leaving. When I think about living in Vancouver long term, several perks spring to mind.

1. For one thing, there’s no actual rule that staying in one place means you’ll have stability! I’ve lived in Vancouver for three years, but in that time I’ve lived in four locations, two of which were couch surfing for three months because I was laid off and my work-related housing was taken away. The relationships I made at my first workplace faded after being laid off, and oh yeah, a pandemic swept the globe, which drastically altered everything. I’m not sure I can even claim that I’ve settled in Vancouver, which is my point. Life is full of changes, so my desire for new experiences does not have to be contingent upon living in new locations.
2. It’s disorienting and wonderful to take the future into consideration with friends. I’ve very rarely expected to live in the same neighborhood, let alone country, of the people I love. Not for very long, anyway. So when I joke with a friend about starting a business together in a few years, it’s incredibly strange to realize that it could actually happen.
3. Financial stability has always been something I crave but actively worked against because I thought it was a sin. [Insert sad noise here.] I took jobs that paid very little because I believed in the mission and I trusted God to provide. He did, and I don’t regret those jobs at all. But now that I’m older and I see my parents comfortably living in retirement and my lack of desire for children means I can’t rely on the next generation, I see the wisdom of stable jobs with pensions. And if I’m totally honest, it feels really good to spend money on basically anything my frugal heart wants without worrying about my budget. This is such a new and delightful feeling that I shout “We’re wealthy!” on a regular basis with my girlfriend when we, oh, buy deck furniture or splurge on farm-raised bacon.
4. Knowing that I have no intention to leave Vancouver, I find myself both exploring more of the area and returning to old favorites. When I lived in Greece, I never wanted to spend vacation time going back to a site I had already visited. There were so many things to see and so little time! But with Vancouver as my home, it’s possible to have a standard weekend getaway, a favorite hike, and a favorite walk. Interestingly, I also find that stability allows me to see more of Lower BC. Whereas I might never have visited some of the smaller towns or less well-known hikes if my time here was limited, now I have the freedom to explore everywhere without worrying that I might choose incorrectly and waste my time.
5. With the big picture secure, I can enjoy small changes. I have lived in my apartment for seven months now, and despite the fact that I occasionally suggest moving elsewhere (it’s hard to kick old habits!), my girlfriend reminds me that we have an awesome place in an amazing location, and we haven’t come close to fully enjoying it yet. I’ve made a list of all the restaurants within two blocks of our building (from Ukrainian to Korean to Persian to Japanese), and we’re going to slowly try all of them over the next few months. And then we might go to three blocks away! Similarly, I have never lived in a cozier home. Knowing that this apartment will be ours for the foreseeable future means that we can work our way through upgrading our furniture into non-IKEA pieces that we deeply love and enjoy without worrying about whether we’ll have to sell everything that doesn’t fit into two suitcases and head to another country.

I won’t deny that there is still a part of me that itches to go somewhere new, start a new life, and see what experiences are out there. Unfortunately, this is hugely fueled by the fact that we’re living through a worldwide pandemic, and I haven’t been able to travel further than two hours away in over a year. I eagerly anticipate the day when I can get on a plane and visit old homes or explore new cities. But I also eagerly anticipate coming home, and that is something new.

When I was laid off, I thought it would be a month before my application to be a permanent resident of Canada would be approved.  It was easier, in that context, to think of the time away from work as a vacation.  I later found out that the time had been extended to an additional five months, with the expectation that my application will finish processing by the end of June.  Suddenly, the first half of the new year found me unemployed and purposeless.

That’s the thing, isn’t it?  I associate my purpose with my work.  This setback wasn’t primarily financial, though this was a huge concern; it was personal.  Who am I without a job?  How do I create meaning when the socially acceptable route isn’t available to me?  I’m still wading through this emotional and practical quagmire, but here are some things that I have found helpful so far:

• Feel the feelings.  This is my rule for everything, and this situation is no exception.  Over the past month, I have felt shocked, angry, frustrated, hopeless, hopeful, energized, depressed, disappointed, and overwhelmed.  When I repress those emotions and pretend they aren’t there, they become more powerful.  They last longer and pop up in other areas of my life where they don’t belong.  To avoid this, I try to feel the feelings.  For me, that means naming them as they arrive.  Simply saying, “I’m sad today,” goes a long way toward accepting and moving through the emotion.  Have a good cry or a good rant, and let that feeling go.
• Set boundaries on feeling the feelings.  There comes a time when feeling the feelings turns into saturating yourself in the feelings.  Instead of letting your emotions be signposts to show you what you need, they become quicksand, eager to pull you under completely.  I have a rule for this as well:
  

  Have your pity party, but only for one day, and only if you invite someone else.

  I have found that this validates my emotions without empowering them.  It also has the fortunate side effect of infusing humor into the darkest emotions.  When I’m in an especially bad mood, my conversation with my girlfriend looks something like this:

  “What kind of balloons are at your pity party?”
  “Black ones.  No, black is too good for my party.  They’re like, watery grey.  And only half inflated.”
  “Where are they?  Hanging on the walls?”
  “No, they’re just…on the floor.  And I’m on the floor.  Laying face down, making the world’s saddest balloon angel.”
  “I’m going to try to sit on some to pop them.  But they’re so uninflated that they won’t pop.”
  By now, I’m trying not to smile at absurd mental images.  “You look ridiculous,” I insist, before bursting into laughter.

• Be careful who you share your story with.  There are all kinds of people who are not going to help you.  Some unsuccessfully hide the fact that they are happy about your misfortune, because it makes them feel more secure in their not-that-bad situation.  Others seem helpful, but their commitment to being with you in your experience can actually keep you mired in the worst emotions without allowing you to move on.  If you find that you’ve opened up to someone who is making things worse, you can always back away from the information updates and give less intimate reports when they ask how you’re doing.
• Balance productivity with laziness.  This has been my biggest struggle.  When I was first confronted with so much time off, I had a list of projects I wanted to complete, from decluttering my closet to designing podcast logos.  As I checked off the projects that excited me most, I started to falter.  I watched more Netflix, played more video games, and wasted more of my time.  The shame increased, which made escaping into tv shows even more appealing.

  It’s the shame that is the problem here.  Once I told myself that I was allowed to be a lump on the couch as much as I wanted, it didn’t feel quite so appealing for quite so long.  Am I playing video games more often than usual?  Yes.  Once I chose to see that as a perk of being unemployed, I could enjoy it without getting sucked into it forever and always.  I could work on projects when necessary, and be lazy when necessary.  Always keeping my eyes open for new shame attacks, of course.  Those things aren’t a one-and-done deal.

Being unemployed is a struggle, and following the four pieces of advice laid out here will not make it a magical experience.  But this time doesn’t have to be seen as a waste.  It can be a period of self-growth as you explore and strengthen your emotional intelligence.  You can discover new hobbies, or pick up old ones that fell by the wayside when you were too busy with work.  It is going to be uncomfortable, but it is survivable.