I love what I do. Truly. And I am fully aware of how lucky I am to be able to make that statement. I love that I can spend my days creating to my heart’s content, getting my hands into the clay and watching a piece come to life. I love that I set my own schedule, and if I want to drop everything in the afternoon to take my husband a picnic lunch on campus I can do that. I love that I’m constantly learning new things, stretching my abilities and broadening my horizons. I could not have it better, really.
However, as everyone who has been lucky enough to attain their “dream job” knows, even the fantasy has downsides when viewed up close. For me, the downside is the isolation. I work from my home, which is certainly convenient in some ways; I don’t have to scrape ice off the car on chilly winter mornings in order to get to work; I don’t have to stare at cubicle walls all day; I never find myself distracted by a co-worker’s loud phone call or irritating persistent cough.
I do find myself getting lonely, though. And, surprisingly, as my loneliness grows my desire to get out and be social actually shrinks. The longer I spend inside typing away at the computer or crouched over my workbench, the more I dread the events that force me to get out. Being social and friendly suddenly seems like a gigantic effort, one which I rarely have the energy or motivation to tackle.
Now is the point of the post where you could reasonably expect me to offer some sort of solution, or declare my resolution to get up and do something about it. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything to offer. In fact, as I type this, I’m also trying to think up an excuse to get out of going to book club tonight, because the thought of socializing with a room full of people – even people I really like – is just too daunting.
Maybe I should focus on the good – the flexibility of my schedule, the many outlets I have for my creativity, the fact that I have plenty of time to spend with my hubby. Maybe I should be grateful for the amazing life that I have and stop worrying about it’s long-term effects on my sanity. After all, that sanity was a fragile thing to begin with. 😉
Maybe I should just go to book club.