So I’m at a crossroads in my life. Or perhaps, more accurately, a dead end. I’ve never had a great life plan or ambition or expectation but I think working full time was just always a given.
warning: this is unedited, apologies for errors
About a year ago it started to dawn on me that I wasn’t up to full time work. By September-ish I had managed to externalise that, with lots of tears. By March it was reality. I had gone from 37 hours a week to 30. Which might not seem a lot but dropping from five days a week to four days a week was terrifying, heartbreaking and agonising. I’ve known for quite some time that my dregs of self-esteem are very much tied up with work and being productive. And saying I can’t manage that stirred up some major issues for me. I was essentially saying that I was worthless because I couldn’t work full time. I was angry that my body had taken more things from me. I was scared and it was a vulnerable place for me. The way I saw it, I was having to put my hand up and say I can’t do this, I am failing at full time work. What would people think of me? More importantly, what did I think of me. Hint: on the whole they were very different responses.
So it’s been almost a year since I told someone I needed to work less. And a lot has happened in that time – I have started getting care, started using crutches, started using wheelchairs and my pain has increased considerably in the last year.
Which brings me to the present day. I have taken more time off work because of pain in the last two months than all my sick leave from the rest of my career combined. And the sinking realisation that I can’t work four days a week hit. It hit with tears and frustration and anger and ranting texts sent to a very patient and supportive friend. A week after I had this realisation, my manager asked how I was getting on with the reduced hours and were they helping enough? No. There’s no sugar coating it, the answer is no, I can’t work 30 hours a week.
And that’s why it’s less of a crossroads and more of a dead end – I can’t keep moving forward. Something needs to change. I don’t yet know what my hours will look like other than less.
And I haven’t yet figured out what those non work hours will look like. When I first reduced my hours it was simple, I would work Monday and Tuesday, rest all day Wednesday, work Thursday and Friday and rest over the weekend. That just about felt justifiable to me. But I can’t comprehend the idea of taking more time off work and resting. I think there is a need to do that to some extent because otherwise I still won’t be fit for work on the days I do go. But, and this comes back to having self-worth tied up with productivity, I feel I need to be doing something.
And financially, I do. Reducing my hours the first time was a huge hit to my bank account. I’ve been supplementing earnings with savings and thankfully was approved for PIP just before my hours reduced so that has helped a bit. But reducing my hours further will put me in a very vulnerable financial situation. Yes there are other benefits which at some point I may be eligible for but (again, self-worth is raising its head) I don’t feel I deserve them (which is nonsense) and I find the idea of being reliant on the government quite scary and it feels like a vulnerable situation. For so long, I’ve been financially independent and before that I was striving to be.
Anyway, to sum up the situation is more ‘free’ time and less money. So surely I can find a way to make money which isn’t going to have a negative impact on my health?
So far all I’ve come up with is photography (with the help of a couple of friends). But that is a scary huge thing to do. So many what ifs and as far as I can see no certainties. Or writing, which has the same risks. The biggest fear is that I will be laughed at – people will look at my work and think why am I trying to sell it, it’s not up to standard, what right do I have to charge people for my work?
If it hadn’t been for my pain, I’d never be thinking about the possibility of taking a risk with the more creative side of me. So maybe that’s the happy ending to this post.
Yes pain sucks, but maybe, just maybe, it means you do things you wouldn’t otherwise do.