At the beginning of March I will have been unemployed for 6 months. Which I believe ties the longest stretch I’ve been out of work in my professional career and is one of the few long gaps where I haven’t had a job since I was a teenager.
I have been of two minds lately. Part of me has been critical of myself. I should have been using this time to improve and keep my skills fresh. To learn new frameworks, contribute to open source projects, take on new freelance gigs, or finally crank out that CSS Zen Garden example I’ve always thought about. To set myself apart from all the other developers out there in the same situation.
I keep thinking about how when I do finally get an interview – yes, after months and dozens upon dozens of applications I’ve barely got phone screenings, never mind an interview despite having been doing this for a long time – I’m going to be rusty, look unprepared, and fail miserably. That I’m going to lose out on some opportunity. That I’m going to fail and lose everything I’ve been working for in my career.
My other mind is thinking of how burnt out I was towards the end of my last job. How difficult it was through and even several years after Covid. How being remote and often forgotten as people went back to a hybrid schedule left me feeling isolated, especially after having moved 700 miles away from most of my family near the end of 2019. How hard it was to find joy and satisfaction in my work some days.
So instead I’ve been spending my time reading, playing with my cats (including my new adopted family member Elsie), playing video games, watching movies and tv shows that have sat too long in my watchlists, going to museums, walking, thinking, and writing. Which has caused me to think a lot about that poem The Summer Day by Mary Oliver. About how this decade of my Life has been one about great challenges and resiliency. Of loss and starting to feel old. And how even when I get a job again it will likely be at least 20-25 years before I’m granted an opportunity like this to just… live.
I want to feel more guilty. I do think about how it will likely cost me in lost future income and wealth generation. But I also think about what is the point of all that if I never get to live to enjoy it. How I’ve lost friends and family that were younger than I am today. How at this point in his Life my Dad only had 15 years left. About my recent car accident and how many close calls I had on my motorcycle before I stopped riding a few years ago and how I don’t know how many more tomorrows I may get.
So I try to show myself grace. I try to draw peace and hope from a post I recently saw that talked about how maybe you don’t need a wizard or rock star or 10x developer, but just someone boring and experienced. Someone that feels a lot more like me. Someone who will probably never wow you but has delivered and done their best to be a good, empathetic and kind coworker.
I don’t really regret the jobs I didn’t get or the money I didn’t make, not at this point in my life and career. But I do regret the life opportunities I missed. Part of moving away was a sense of “carpe diem” after a friend of mine died five years ago, right about the same age I am now. I had big Life plans that, sadly, didn’t quite work out and in hindsight may not have been worth the trade off. But the spirit of that – to live, to find joy, to savor this precious gift we call Life – I think I may have forgotten it until being granted this opportunity to slow down and think about what I really want.
So no, I haven’t become a better developer during my unplanned sabbatical that this has become. But I think that’s okay. I think I will be okay.
“Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”