Leaving the rat race and coming up for air

I resigned from my day jobs last year. As a musician and teacher, my income was split between schools as well as gigs, workshops and various other private tuition sessions.

But the bulk of stuff that paid the bills was through my working contracts with schools. I resigned from those roles, and in the last few months I’ve had to do a lot of unlearning.

For over two decades, myself and my wife have had to hustle. We’ve worked long and hard and cheap. I can count on one hand the number of days I stayed in bed after 5.30am. We’ve crammed in a lot of life into our 24-hours each day. And now, things have slowed down.

I start work at 11am in the morning. There are moments where I’m sitting around beforehand, feeling guilty for not working when it’s 8.30. I’ve had to unlearn that.

The family don’t rush out the door any more. No more rushing breakfast. No more scratching around for things to put together school lunches. No more scampering around to make sure teeth are brushed and sports kits are packed. No more homework, thank God.

Instead, we go for walks in the morning with the dog. We stop at coffee shops. And I try and take long, slow, deep breaths and make sure I’m appreciating the gift that this season is offering me.

I think about what I’ve left behind. There are days when I’ll be walking with my wife and kids with the sun in the sky at 9 in the morning, the birds and the blossom around us, and I think about the folks I used to spend my days with. I think about what they’ll be grappling with while I’m not grappling with anything. I feel a sense of guilt, which I have to breathe away and remember that I made this choice and they have made theirs. I think about whether I left a legacy in people rather than for people. Was I fun to be around? Did I add value to people’s days? How did I make people feel? If there is a legacy left in people rather than merely for them, then in many ways, I sense I’ll never really know the full extent of it.

All of us exist within a network of relationships, within which our lives find meaning. Perhaps it’s the grief of leaving those relationships for me that I have found hard. I count myself fortunate that I didn’t have difficult working relationships, and I genuinely liked all the colourful types of characters in schools and beyond. Grief is a strange thing, I’m learning. It creeps up on you at unexpected times. And I tell myself that it’s because I was able to love what I did and whom I did it with, that I am able to grieve. And that’s healthy.

At the same time, there’s relief from the rat race. Relief from rushing. Relief from the horror of homework.

I feel like I’m looking at the Matrix, laughing and crying all at the same time. I feel free. My friends are still in there. I used to work long and hard and cheap, because that’s all there was to do. No other options. Things are different now, as I’ve come up for air out of the ocean of obligations, and I’m unlearning a lot of bad habits. Perspective is a wonderful gift. And unlearning is a reality we all have to face up to, if we want to evolve.