Advice for Day 6: Running Away to Run into Yourself

About two weeks ago I received one of the most sensible pieces of advice from one of the least sensible people I know. It came in the unassuming form of a facebook message. On September 25th, my insensibly genius friend wrote me:

“I have one piece of advice: take your favorite sweater and your most wonderful pair of underwear, buy a pack of marlboro lights (or a carton if ya feel inclined), 3 magazines, the movie chocolat or such flick, a bottle of gin and champagne (for the real fun) and whatever else feels good at the moment and load up your car and drive to your cabin. Do whatever the f&%$ you want for however many days, everything else be damned. Enjoy the f@#$% out of yourself. If you don't get clarity, who the hell cares, you had an amazing time; the clarity will come later.”

Two weeks later, here I am, isolated in the Northwoods, wearing my new VS underwear and my old wool sweater, drinking brandy and watching old Audrey Hepburn movies. I have not completely abandoned home. I know I have to return to the responsibilities of unemployment in a few days. But for now, I am just doing whatever the f@#$ feels good. For now, all that advice on just what path my life should be taking is left back in the bay of reality and I am wandering my own paths through the Northwoods.

As I rub my freshly shaven legs together (shaved because I wanted to not because I was expected to) and curl under the comforter to take a 2 pm nap, I am beginning to hear myself for the first time in a month. I hear the self that looks with anticipation not fear towards the future, the self that leaps into adventures she may not be strong enough for yet but will be soon, the self who internal scale tips more towards faith than skepticism.

Running away to the Northwoods may not be an option for every exasperated unemployed in the Fox Valley but taking a day to enjoy the f@#$ out of yourself is. So this week I am forgetting about resumes, cover letters and job sites and remembering watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s at 2 AM, reading the New Yorker in my underwear and walking over crunchy fall leaves on my way to my own path.