Covid-19 Saved My Life

I love minimalism; and not just because I have OCD tendencies. I love walking into a room that is open, bright, clean, and with only a select few decorations. Clutter gives me anxiety and makes it hard for me to concentrate. However, my love for minimalism extends beyond the material. Over the years, even before I knew the term minimalism, I had been practicing it within all aspects of my life. Clearing my mind, body, and soul of either needless things, habits, and people is something that comes natural to me.

It is that time again; time for a new cleanse.

I sit here now with a plan; a plan to purge my home of all unnecessary items, a plan to stop connecting with people who try to take advantage of me and have no real love for me. A plan to completely reevaluate and take my life forward into a new direction. Toward my mission; my true north. However, what is proving to be challenging is leaving my current job. A very high paying but also soul sucking, life stealing, miserable job.

Covid-19 saved my life, it gave me enough time away from the fat paychecks for me to realize just how miserable I was and how badly that I needed to walk away. While my co-workers suffered and prayed for us to reopen, I sat silent with my feelings of guilt. I prayed too, except I prayed for us to stay closed. I wasn’t ready to go back yet. I’m still not ready.

Within a week of being laid off my daily headaches began to subside, my anxiety lessoned, I smiled more, I complained less, and my productivity skyrocketed. Within a week my wordcount doubled and I was pushing out pieces faster than before. I actually talk to my friends and family now and have been an active part of their lives. Before this I was too busy, or in all actuality, I was just too tired to hang out. The mental and emotional abuse I sustained on a daily basis wiped me out.

I’m also broke, living unemployment check to unemployment check, my savings drained, no air conditioner because I can’t afford a new one right now, no monthly hair appointment, facial, pedicure and massage. No buying whatever I want, when I want. And you know what? I couldn’t give a shit less. Because now, for the first time in over six years, I am genuinely happy. None of the material things that my job afforded me could ever replace the peace I now feel. Knowing that I will never be forced to work another holiday, miss another funeral, be required to show up to work the day of and after the death of a parent, be told that my pregnancy complications is about to get me fired, watch corrupt individuals openly steal and lie while good people are treated like shit, never see my nieces and nephews on the weekends, never have a weekend off, be told that my job is unimportant, endure daily narcissistic taunts, and have to beg and plead for personal time off.

Before I go on be aware that this is a business owned by my grandfather. He gets away with things traditional employers would not. And yes, in case you caught on, my grandfather threatened to fire me while I was pregnant for missing too much work while in the hospital for complications. Too much work was two consecutive days.

For five of the 6.5 years that I was there I worked seven days a week, nonstop. I fought hard to get Mondays off and that came with the threat of reducing my salary. Now, the truth is, my job is not technically hard and while I was required to work literally every day, on most days I was finished with my work on average within six hours. However, the mental and emotional trauma I experienced made those six hours feel like a lifetime.

When I got word of our reopening date all of the anxiety came flooding back. I wanted to cry. I wanted to beg a god that I don’t even believe in to somehow extend the lockdown. I kept telling myself over and over that I don’t want to go back. And then one day I realized that I don’t have to. I really do not have to go back.

This realization just brought in more anxiety. “What about my bills?”, “What about paying for my Harvard grad degree?”, “What about all of these expensive conferences I like to go to (I lie and say I have a doctor appointment or something to get off work)?”, and, OMG, “What about my credit score?!”. Suddenly going back didn’t seem quite as appalling but yet it still made my stomach tie up in knots. My lizard brain wants to play it safe and my body and soul is screaming please no.

As I write this, I have not told my employer whether or not I will return on the 26th. It is automatically assumed I will be there. Maybe I will play it safe and only go back part time; work on the three days that I know I am needed the most. What I do know is that I no longer have the ability to force myself into going into that office every day. I no longer have the ability to give up personal freedom, passions, friendships, and family, for a paycheck. I have in my lifetime been financially poor, but I have never been as unhappy as I was the last six years at that place.

While the term “money does not bring happiness” may not ring true for some people, it does in this particular situation, ring true for me. The paycheck, the car, the house, the shopping, the spa trips; none of it managed to mask the anxiety or replace the personal freedom and connections that I have had to give up. I do not miss any of it, but I will miss what I have gained if I decide to return.