When the way forward feels like giving up

Exactly one year ago this weekend I put in my final morning on the preload shift in the warehouse and began my journey toward becoming a package car driver at UPS.

I’d found the part-time work engaging, challenging, and fascinating – truly blog-worthy – and, more importantly, a necessary stopgap after I lost my white-collar job. But the hours were too few and the pay too low for the longer term. So I went for the opportunity to drive full-time.

I didn’t have much of a plan; I just knew I needed more money. I figured I’d keep networking and hope that a more suitable opportunity would eventually present itself. Driving for UPS seemed like a ‘safe’ (i.e., layoff-proof) and sustainable backup until that happened.

Meanwhile I started this blog. I hoped it would help me make sense of, and find meaning in, this major life transition. Or help me stay connected with community amidst the isolation of pandemic and job loss.

Plus it couldn’t hurt to have a public portfolio of my writing to refer prospective employers or clients to. Perhaps I could develop some kind of lucrative side-hustle that would use my skills as a thinker and writer. Maybe I could even turn my musings into some kind of book!

Of course, dear reader, things didn’t play out quite that way. My first year of driving for UPS has demanded so much of my time and energy that I had little left over for most everything else. I had to let go of so much.

I had to let go of my job search. That was hard. For a long time I wrestled with so many strong feelings about my identity – as a professional and as a person. Was I a failure? A quitter? Is it ‘settling’ because I was ‘just’ a driver instead of something more suitable to my level of skill or educational attainment?

Along with that I had to let go of my career. I’ve come to think of it as having three distinct stages: pre-academic, academic, and now post-academic. During this past year I was given the opportunity to return to the academic world, but I had to turn it down. It felt good to be considered, but it just couldn’t compete with the pay, benefits, and long-term security and earning potential of my current situation.

I had to let go of my various involvements in the community. During my academic career I’d always sat on the boards of a few local non-profits. Now I couldn’t take time off during the workweek to attend board meetings – not even remotely, not even once a month.

I had to let go of so many relationships that were based in my previous job and career. Life had moved on, both for me and for them, and the work-based infrastructure facilitating our staying in touch was no longer in place.

I had to let go of finding any kind of remunerative side-work. The start-up costs were just too high, and a lower and less certain return on my investment than additional work at my main gig.

I even had to let go of blogging more regularly. I keep adding to the list of topics on which I want to get to eventually, but once I started seeing it as more an enjoyable hobby than a vehicle for supplemental income or professional advancement, my blog became less of a priority.

I had to let go of running and racing. I went from running 20-30 miles per week, and competing in at least four marathons per year, to nothing. For most of 2021 I just couldn’t muster the energy or desire to go for a run – let alone sign up for or train for a race, once they started being held again.

It’s been a cleansing and clarifying process. Because I’ve had to reckon with very real limits on my time, energy, and attention, I’ve been forced to prioritize what matters most to me. My constrained circumstances have imposed a new discipline and focus on me that was missing before.

Letting go is always painful because there’s real loss involved. But the upside is a freedom from those encumbrances, and a gratitude and joy for what remains. It’s taken me a while to get there, but I feel more relaxed and contented with my life now, and those around me have told me they’ve noticed the difference.

I’m reminded of a particular moment last winter when the warmer weather had melted off much of the snow and ice. The package car I’d been assigned to was already chained up, but I realized that I wouldn’t be needing the chains on my route that day.

I parked in a lot across the street from the UPS warehouse to try to get those chains off. At the time I didn’t – and still don’t, truth be told – have a lot of experience getting chains on or off tires, so I was having some trouble with them. On both sides of the rear axle they’d slipped in between the pair of tires (‘duallys’) and I was just getting more and more frustrated.

I felt the clock ticking and was getting more and more stressed about starting my route. In desperation I called my supervisor for advice. He told me to try my best to get the chains off, but as a last resort I could bring the car back and trade it for another one.

Well, that was all I needed to hear. I figured that I’d tried long enough to work those chains loose from between the duallys and was ready to cut my losses.

Then something completely unexpected happened. As I drove the 100 yards or so back to the gate, those chains had quickly worked themselves loose and were lying on the road behind my car. I couldn’t help but feel a little chagrined as I walked back to fetch them. But I learned – or possibly re-learned – a valuable lesson in that moment:

Sometimes the quickest, easiest way to be rid of the chains in our life is to stop ‘working on’ them.