Diary of the unemployed housewife: I feel good

Being the unemployed housewife is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I know it hasn’t been easy and it’s not going to be just a breeze down the road because you have to strive hard to find your joy and to be fulfilled, and yes, there will still be “work” involved. But to have finally tapped into what provides me with this joy is AMAZING (and even more shockingly there were no prescription drugs involved!) This may be TMI, but this is a particularly hormonal week for me, a week when I am usually depressed and anxious, a week that generally just blows, a week that my husband gives me a wide berth. But not this week, something has shifted. I opened myself up to the universe and it took notice. I am on cloud nine.

As cliché as it may sound, I wish I could bottle this feeling and pass it out to everyone I know. This epiphany, this realization has put me on may way toward self-actualization (Maslow would be proud!). My hopes are that everyone can experience this in their lives, tap into that creative side of your brain, be open to what the universe is offering up on her plate and find your joy.

Riding high!

The Unemployed Housewife

I had the most bizarre dream, a dream like none I had ever had before. It was like I was watching a story unfold in my head, with unique characters and crazy plotlines. When I woke up I was in a haze: “What was that?” I willed myself to fall back asleep so I could find out more, but I was awake and I was jazzed. A story, a book, a novel, I had to write it down immediately, lest I forget anything. I got out my journal, and I started writing and writing — it was like someone had unleashed the floodgates of fiction in my brain. Is it good? I don’t know, does it matter? It feels good, frantic and exciting, like being on a Red Bull bender.

So this is what happens when you are forced to shut off that part of your rationalizing brain that says, “You must sit behind a desk for eight hours, you must put up with bureaucratic bullshit, and you must pretend to like people you can’t stand.” This is what happens when you give yourself over to your brain and your personality and you finally find joy. As a dear friend of mine said, “Who wants to get to the end of their life and have their tombstone read, 'Here lies Michelle, she could make a really kick-ass spreadsheet,'" — how utterly terrifying and depressing.

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