I no longer have Wednesdays off work, and it’s a complicated thing for me to work through, surprisingly.
On the one hand, it’s undoubtedly a good thing: the reason I did have the middle of the week free for half of 2020 was because I was furloughed at THR for that day, thanks to a pay cut brought about by COVID and the understanding that I shouldn’t have to work the same amount as usual for only 70% of the usual money. Thankfully, as of this week, my pay has been restored, and so, my hours have been, as well. Like I said, it’s a good thing.
It also keeps the rest of my work week from being quite so harried, because now I have another day to do everything necessary — no more panicked Tuesdays, preparing a post to run first thing Thursday, or whatever. I like that aspect of it, as well.
At the same time, though, the midweek break has become part of my routine by now, and something I’ve come to really appreciate and rely on, emotionally and mentally. What started as an uncomfortable oddity — with me almost raring to go sit down behind the laptop and just get stuff done because that’s what I do on weekdays, dammit — became something that I looked forward to, planned for, after a few months. It became part of my rhythm, for want of a better way to put it, and now that’s no longer there.
As strange as it may seem, I’ve finally — at age 46 — come to appreciate time off work and the need to relax and recover; the holiday break just passed, and even the Thanksgiving break before that, were unusual in that I could feel the mental benefit of taking a break in real time. As a former workaholic, it’s an amazing, wonderful thing… that I seemingly only got my head around in time to see me get less time off.
Will the trade off (less time off, but more money and hopefully less stressful days that I do work) work out? Ask me again in a few weeks. This is just the first Wednesday of the year, after all.