Can You Live Without a Job?

This is the question I've been asking myself for most of the evening.

As I break my life down, and begin to strip away unnecessary things, I am starting to wonder just how necessary having a job really is. Is this another area of my life I could minimize?

Anyone who has known me would call me a workaholic. I chased my career and I chased it hard. In particular, my married life brought on a fervor for career success unlike anything I'd experienced before.

Tonight, I started to ask myself why. Why do I need a job?

I was chasing success and status, I've concluded, partially as a response to fears and anxieties. My job could be my proof to the world that I am good enough. It was my proof to my ex that I deserved his love and care, it was my proof to my parents that I was successful. It was also a way to acquire all of the material goods in sight. 

I was using the status and the money to plug a gap in myself - I was trying to chuff this big black hole so full of stuff and external validation with the hope that I might come to feel happy. This was a big part of the life script, wasn't it? This is what we were meant to do to be happy. Get married, get a job, then eventually make babies, buy a house, buy a car...

Except it didn't work.

Now, for the first time, I am feeling a contentment that is unrelated to anything external. I don't need to wave my job around to justify my existence. I don't need to buy something to feel like I matter. I matter enough on my own, and stuff is seeming more of a burden than anything else. 

I feel like I am standing on the cusp of an opportunity. I want to live a life that is full of travel, full of passion and people, full of meaning and reading books and swimming in bodies of open water. I am slowly convincing myself, with the help of assorted internet non-conformists, that maybe there is a way to do all of these things and survive without the stress of a 9-5.

It is a terrifying thought, not having the security of a set monthly pay packet. 

Why, though? Why is it a terror? And, all terrors aside, can you live without a job?

Purging: Part II

Books taken care of, I've moved on to clothes, stuff, and things.

Pulling bags and boxes out of the closet, and tearing through my wardrobe, I'm surprised by the volume of stuff I have that I don't even know I have. Dresses worn once for a party, uncomfortable shoes, a veritable plethora of hats and random accessories that clog up unseen space. I am surprised that I moved all of this out when I moved into my own place.

Not quite sure of where else to go, I've listed my stuff on eBay. First time I have tried selling anything there that wasn't work related. I'd like to rehome as much of this stuff mountain as possible. If eBay fails me, I'll look to Gumtree next, and whatever remains will come with me to the boot sale and then on to the charity shop.

I'll report my results here. So far, I've had one bid on one lot for £10. That's £10 to the kitty, sitting me at £40 so far in my mission to sell most of my worldly possessions. Part of me has a strange anxiety about letting go - what if I need one of these things in a few months? A greater part of me, though, is already feeling the relief of knowing that, one way or another, soon these things will be gone. I'll be lighter.

Purging: Part I

Getting rid of stuff is a bit of a process. It is interesting to go through and note just how difficult parting with things can be.

I spent a large part of the last several years attaching a significance to my things - I started using them to define who I was. In a way, they became a distraction. Obsessing about stuff made it easier to avoid facing up to things about myself that I needed to change.

Now, faced with them all and considering what I really, genuinely need, I find that most of these things aren't required.

I began the purge in earnest yesterday, starting with my books. I have a huge collection of books. To me, having lots of books meant that you were well read, intelligent, and interesting as a person. They were also a connection to my childhood - some of my richest experiences when I was small revolved around the other world of books. I also spent some of the best quality time with my parents, especially my mother, during the nighttime ritual of being read to.

Unpacking this thinking, it occurred to me that books were a tool to gain interests and knowledge, but that the objects themselves were little more than blocks of paper, taking up space, when they weren't being used. They also couldn't bring back that feeling of closeness I shared with my mother. It was the relationship and experience, the pleasure of reading and the knowledge that comes from turning the pages that I really valued.

I began to sort through them. I realised that most of these books I'd already read, once or twice, and I hadn't touched them again in so long that a layer of dust had begun to settle on them. I kept out a couple of classics that I knew I would read again - 1984 and Apricot Jam, along with books I hadn't yet read. This small stack of 5 became the 'keep' pile.

For those that remained, I wanted a quick sale with minimal effort. I sorted a batch using Amazon Trade-In, where you send books to Amazon in exchange for gift vouchers. The remainder are going to WeBuyBooks, an online wholesale book buyer, in exchange for cold, hard cash. Both programmes offer free postage.

My first purge has netted me a quick £30 along with heaps more space. It's proving liberating so far.