New-found freedom, or survivor's guilt?
I find it interesting that after being a 9-5 (or more like… 10-6 or later) office worker for the past decade, I’ve been trained to need to feel productive each weekday. And while I’ve certainly been personally productive this past week and a half, there’s still a sense of rebellion that I find surprising in this newfound daytime freedom. Just yesterday in the late morning, I went to Farley’s to pick up some funky magazines, where I sat and read them in the window seat for a few hours, nursing a golden latte. Something about this activity felt so luxurious and almost naughty, like I was getting away with a defiant indulgence. Who do I think I’m defying?! Only myself and the expectations that have been trained into me over the years. I’m interested to examine how my feelings change as I adjust to this new life I have chosen for myself.