I am an unemployed man. Unlike some people I carry my profession with me, in my heart, all the time. I am a writer. after coffee in the mornings, nearly every morning I write. I write to deal with stress or love or really anything. After my last gig I collected everything together and put three short inexpensive ebooks out in the Kindle Store on Amazon.com. The satisfaction of putting my work out there is huge – it had better be because it doesn’t really pay.
Note that I used the word gig rather than job. I’ve never had a salaried position. After being royally screwed over by an employer over 20 years ago, I determines that my work-life was mine. I wasn’t going to put up with bosses and businesses that exploited me. Exploitation is not paying me what I deserve for the quality of effort I have exerted or the expertise I bring to the table. So I’m a contractor, going from gig to gig.
Some people would say that that’s not very secure. I’ll agree that it’s not a very good way of creating wealth, but one the other had security is an illusion. I confront this everyday with no judgments: my benefits, my car and my house are gone, yet I am still here, and no matter where I am – even it if it comes to a homeless shelter – I will write. I am deeply grateful for the gifts I have been given.
I have found that some of the biggest work that this unemployed man has to do is to remember that I am worth it. I apply pen to paper and write out my life, my anger and despair, then I can see the beauty of the world. Nothing stands in the way of that appreciation.