Beautiful Inconsistency

Back when I initially drafted this post, I was in the middle of my unemployment stint. It had been roughly three months, carrying over for another. As of today, a total of five months later, the end could be in sight as I’ve just received an update from one prospective employer they’re moving forward with my application.

This change affects what I wanted to share today because I’ve been given the gift of retrospection. I started writing those thoughts within the original draft, but I think I’ll save it for a Pt. II post as they’re starkly conflicting to these musings. It’s also just too…painful at the moment to really share without it turning into an too much of an emotive rant I’d be uncomfortable with sharing on the world wide web.

I realise with it being Pesach chol hamoed, you would assume I’d be writing about that, so sorry to disappoint. Maybe I’ll tie it into this somehow. Keep reading to find out?

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I’ve been unemployed now for three months. Going into another month, I don’t know whether to be grateful or terrified.

I’m elated because it means I get to stay home, doing what I love to do: blogging, writing in my WIP, reading when not doing any of those, or catching up on random chores around the house. I’m honestly living my best life right now. Only thing that would make it better is if I had a pet or a baby, I think.

(I’ve been battling baby fever for a while now, so don’t come at me with your, “Kids are the worst,” spiel. Your kids might be, but we have no idea what my kids will be like. Besides, I know how kids can be. I nannied for two years, but that doesn’t make me not want my own any less. My sister just keeps telling me to get a pet instead, or I might just buy a bunch of plants?)

Anyway…

I’m terrified because there’s still that aspect of adulting I have to deal with like paying bills, etc. It might be a bit easier with a husband to help contribute towards (or provide all of) our household income, but I said easier. There are still challenges we face. My fear is also augmented by the fact my husband is picking up the odd side job here and there, which might be easy for him as a carpenter, but I still worry about his health. However, being a handyman pays really well, which allows me to not have to find some random part-time job until I can find a full-time one.

That is definitely something I’ve been looking for, too, but even those places don’t want to hire me because my availability is weird as someone who is shomer shabbas. It’s not like I’m just sitting at home like a potato taking advantage of my husband earning all the bread. Even if I was, my husband wants to because he’s one of those lovely old-fashioned guys who thinks I shouldn’t have to work anyway, unless I want to, and should be free to pursue my dreams. Thus, he’s out there schlepping away, providing me the opportunity to live my best life. (Now if we could just have a baby, we’d be set.)

I’m digressing from an inkling I had which prompted me to write this particular blog post…

There’s this planner journal I bought a few months back. I purchased it because it had a hourly-week portion I specifically wanted. The other functions—like the goal setting and journaling—I used sporadically, as I felt led.

Today as I wrote out my goals for this upcoming month, I realised how I kept writing “consistently” with each of my goals, and therein lied an entire epiphany.

Now you may remember how I announced one of my main goals with this blog for the next year is to write and post consistently. I specified with consistency because if there is one thing that has frustrated me most about myself in my adult life, it is probably my lack of it.

It’s ironic because my former boss—who is an incredible woman and the only reason I stayed in that horrid job as long as I did (I’m loyal to people, not institutions; it’s probably the Gen-Y in me)—and I would frequently soapbox to each other, or commiserate with one another, about the lack of consistency within our department. Our sessions usually were about trying to develop a training to circumvent it, to help establish consistency within the employees, but thanks to COVID and a bunch of administrators who [REDACTED], we never got to implement our ideas.

Anyway…

Remembering those sessions with her, and thinking of the seeming lack within my own self, got me wondering why I feel as if I am an inconsistent person, or maybe I’m not an inconsistent person, but maybe my life is?

What areas would I consider to be inconsistent? Where do I feel I am lacking? Where do I feel I am consistent, if at all?

Am I confusing consistency with predictability or dependability? Does my sometimes sporadic behaviour cause me to feel inconsistent, or does spontaneity not relate to consistency?

And what is consistency or inconsistency? How do I define it, and how should I define it? How do others define it as well? Does my definition align with theirs, or do I disagree with it?

In the moment, I think what I’m referring to as consistency isn’t necessarily dependability or predictability, but habituality.

There’s that awkward age group in literature today, of 18-30 year-old characters, some people are advocating to define in traditional publishing as “New Adult,” a term created initially for the self-publishing world. It’s bled over a bit, causing the term to become a bit mainstream, but I bring this up because one of the defining aspects of “New Adult” literature is that these younger adults, not teenagers, are learning how to navigate adulthood, maturing (or not) along the way.

If you’ve been a consistent reader of my blog, then I think you know it is this maturing within my own self which I’ve written about the most.

A great example of this, especially in how it relates to consistency, is whenever I wrote about how I realised I had lost my punctuality. Having grown up in a somewhat rigid home, mostly in terms of time management, when I first started living on my own, I observed how my natural tendencies are inclined to be much less punctual than in the world I grew up.

And that was okay.

I didn’t have anyone to dictate how I used my time except me, and discovering that freedom was liberating.

With that example in mind, perhaps you can understand that even though I am asking myself all of these questions about consistency, how it is defined, and my own consistency—I’m also going easy on myself because I’m simultaneously realising that of course I have no frickin’ idea what my consistency is or how it looks like! I’ve been changing not stop—losing a lot of habits, developing new ones, still attempting to try new things out and see if I want to make it a part of my lifestyle—since I left home. It’s been well over a decade, and I should not be freaked out or annoyed at myself for not having it all figured out right now.

My husband is always telling me, especially when we fight, “We’re still figuring this out.” I love it and I hate it—so much. Mostly hate. I’m the type of person who once did not accept ambiguity in her life. Now, I embrace it, but it is still a challenge sometimes.

I think right now, I’m in that phase of, “I’ve been living everyone else’s life for me,” but now I really, truly, get live my life.

I get to figure out what I want to be consistent about, what I don’t. In this journey of self-discovery—as my rabbi says, “Life is a journey, not a destination”—understanding and accepting I may never arrive at my destination, but enjoying my life along the way, is all Hashem asks of me, asks of us.

There is joy to be found in this growth, and I shouldn’t be annoyed at myself for any lack of supposed consistency I feel within me because now I get to journey with Hashem (and my husband) as we figure it all out together.

And that is a beautiful thing.

What about you? How would you define consistency? Do you think you’re a consistent person? Let me know in the comments below!

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Update: I bought a bunch of plants. 😍