“Chances.” It’s one of those rare words that lives in the past, present, and future, all depending on the context. It can be a future-facing word when used to describe the likelihood that something may happen, as in “Chances are …”
It can be the exact right word for the here and now, as in: “I now have the chance to…”
It can also be a rearview mirror word to express regret, as in: “I had multiple chances to…”
Interesting that my brain wants to frame that last one as failure, ending with something like: “… but I didn’t take them.” Or “but I got distracted and missed out on them.” As if chances by their very liquidy, shifty nature must always be seized, captured, and converted into winnings. But is it so wrong to know you had a chance (or chances) to do something, and instead, you chose to do nothing at all? If not, then why all the guilt?
For the first time in my adult life, I’m unemployed. Well, truthfully, I just launched my own consulting business, but I don’t yet have any clients. There’s a reason for that, but it’s complicated. Just know that, for this week (and maybe a few more), I am getting to choose – for the first time in my adult life – how to spend my time. Being that it’s the first time, as I said, it’s been a bit of an adjustment. Part purgatory, part time warp, part freedom.
Monday was the first day of this new reality, and to be honest, I didn’t know what to do with myself. So I did what I always do when I don’t know where to channel my energy. I cleaned. Like super-duper deep cleaned. Like YouTubing how to use a flathead screwdriver to remove the tricky glass from the shelves so I could wipe away the unidentifiable gunk in the corners, clean. I’m pleased to report that my refrigerator is now sparkling, and there’s not an ounce of expired condiments anywhere in sight. Sure, that chore felt good to do for my home, but by day two, I realized I needed to step away from the rubber gloves.
On Tuesday, I planned the week’s menu, made a grocery list, went to the gym, and put all the groceries away before lunch. Then I took a nap, watched a show, and soaked up that rarest of jewels: unstructured time.
Wednesday began with good intentions to spend the day writing, after a quick trip to the dog park, which turned into what I thought was a sprained paw, which led to a visit to the vet and then a pet emergency clinic, and a prescription for pain meds. (Sigh) I’m thrilled nothing was urgently wrong with my baby girl, but also, I hated she had to endure the stress of “ going to the vet” not once, but twice, and maybe there wasn’t a reason to even take her in the first place? Hindsight, I guess. But I did go to the gym that afternoon, which felt like a big win after the rest of my day had run off the rails.
Thursday, I went to Pottery Barn and picked up a new cover for one of our throw pillows that keeps dropping feathers, and I decided to double the expense and get two. I mean, why not? It’s not like I’m not bringing in income right now… oh wait. Then I found this cute little local luggage store where I bought Daniel’s birthday gift – a real beauty of a carry-on, which I justified the pricetag for due to the lifetime warranty, “suitor” feature, and expandable/compressible functionality. It was definitely the most grown-up purchase I’ve made since my mortgage. What can I say? The fact that there are still mom-and-pop shops selling exclusively luggage and travel accessories delights my heart. It just does. So, if I’m going to spring for sticker shock instead of sensible, let it be there.
For dinner, I made spaghetti with a side salad using only ingredients grown in my garden – butterleaf lettuce and radishes, plus fresh parsley to sprinkle on the spaghetti. Being able to eat things grown from tiny seed specks, watered every day, and lovingly nurtured into recognizable ingredients was a real treat.
Today is Friday, and I haven’t gotten out of my pajamas. And I watched three episodes of reality TV – probably the first time I’ve ever done that. And I mean, ever. And it wasn’t even good. It’s like I wanted to see the ridiculousness that the rest of the world is so transfixed by, but I just didn’t get it. When it was over, I only felt guilty and that I really wanted the past three hours of my life back.
Then a fear started to creep in: maybe this unemployment shtick is revealing me to be one of those people who think they crave freedom only to discover that they’re their healthiest when they are smack dab in the middle of a structured routine. When I was still working full time, I found myself fantasizing about the possibilities this time would bring: rest, the space to create, the opportunity to rediscover the deepest parts of myself, to cash in on all of the chances being presented to me… Okay, yes, I have a teeny bit of a tendency to romanticize, but I will not apologize for being who I am. (There, I said it.)
So here I am in my pajama-ed state, thinking about the definition of “chances” in hopes that, by knowing its etymology, I may be able to better examine how I’m using my own chances this week. There’s gotta be a scoresheet for this kind of thing somewhere…
Merriam-Webster defines “chance” in six different ways – three of them are similar to my past, present, and future usages above. “Chance” is also defined as “risk,” as in “I’m not taking any chances.” The final usage is “chance” as a synonym for “possibility,” as in the likelihood of an outcome. But isn’t there another component to this connection with possibility, as in the possibilities the chances may be presenting? The chances for something great? The chances for positive change and reinvention?
This week has given me numerous chances to think, reflect, ruminate, and meditate. To choose to do or not to do. To explore newness or stay close to the familiar. To accomplish or to rest. My default mode tends to be questioning whether I’m making the right call with all these either/or choices. But chances are not mathematical certainties. If they were, there would be a lot more winning lottery tickets, yes?
By the same logic, I guess there is no right or wrong way to spend your time when given the opportunity – the chance – to choose. Perhaps the rightness can only be measured in the satisfaction of the choice. Or maybe the satisfaction comes from having the agency to choose, not from the choice itself. Or maybe I’m gravitating to that explanation because it absolves me from having watched three hours of “Love is Blind” today – like when I was a kid on summer break and spent the whole day watching VH1 rather than ticking off my assigned chores before indulging in mindless media.
But I don’t have any assigned chores right now, and that’s a really weird frontier for me. Perhaps that’s what makes it the exact right analogy to run with for a while. Like a permission slip to stop overthinking and just go outside and play. After all, kids don’t first run through thought exercises about their own worthiness. They just take the dang hall pass and relish every minute of being on their own. It’s worth a shot…
Cue the mixtape. I’ll be back by suppertime.
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Please take a moment to like this post, share your thoughts in the comments, or pass these words along to a friend. Relatability is a powerful antidote. Appreciate you!
swimming toward the shark 