It’s been 5 months since I left my former employer. I had been there for just shy of 24 years when I got the “Would you be interested in a buyout?” email. The payoff for leaving, monetary and otherwise, was good enough that my decision was made within 24 hours, and I left just after Christmas. Since then, I’ve been making my part of the monthly budget using that payout, and can continue to do so for quite some time.

Since then, I’ve been catching up on sleep, cooking, baking, house care, and little projects. I’ve gotten a little bit of writing done, and it’s getting easier. Somewhere around 2016, things got too crazy and I started running a consistent deficit in excess brain capacity, so writing shut off like I had turned a switch. It’s coming back, slowly, but it’s nothing like it was a decade ago.

It’s a cliche to say this, but the mind is a muscle. It requires regular exercise. I’m at the stroll-the-mall stage of redevelopment, but should be up to speed sometime this summer. I have a couple of Boogieman stories I’m working on, and those darned Romans started talking to me again, so I’m going to at least get them off the Arabian peninsula this year.

I spent the first couple of months just decompressing. I didn’t know how on-edge and tired I was until I looked at a picture I took in December and compared it to the man in the mirror in March. Things had definitely gotten out of hand, but I’m on the upswing now.

I did a bit of travelling, read some books I’ve had on the shelf for too long, and baked way too many desserts and treats. I’ve discovered the simple joy of starting a podcast or a lecture, putting on hearing proection over my earbuds, and riding the lawnmower for a couple of hours.

I’ve been looking for a job, but the Venn diagram between what employers need/want and what I am looking for in a new employer isn’t exactly a circle. I can’t wait forever to get a new job (the payout wasn’t that generous), but I also don’t have to go grab the first job I can find just to keep the lights on. There have been a few nibbles from recruiters, even an interview or two, but nothing solid. It will eventually come, and I’ve been considering getting a part time gig somewhere just to get out of the house a few days a week.

I joked the other day that one sign of my improved attitude is that I’m cussing in foreign languages a lot less. Spewing f-bombs out loud was frowned upon at my former employer, but nobody ever raised an eyebrow when I muttered to myself in Finnish, German, or Russian. OK, one time I made a guy from Smolensk spit out his tea, but he laughed about it. Now, I don’t even need to curse a lot in English, which is something I haven’t experienced before in my adult life.

So, overall, I’m doing OK. The family is still secure, we’re not losing the house or anything anytime soon. I’m rested up and starting to get back to being who I like to be instead of who I have to be. Irish Woman has not had to tiptoe up to my desk and tell me she’s worried about me since Thanksgiving, and we’re figuring out how to be boyfriend and girlfriend again.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a detective having to deal with some otherworldly stuff that needs my attention.