When I quit my job two weeks ago, the array of sentiments that followed was predictable, but also complex, in one very specific and intriguing way.
Reducing my responsibilities substantially, in an instant, was of course relieving, but it’s been complicated by a perpetual sense of muddled, nonexistent urgency. Not unlike a phantom-limb, I still feel the presence of my professional duties. The rhythmic flow of tasks, emails and meetings had become so constant, so familiar, that my present mind has almost fabricated a reality where they still exist.
The primary symptom of this occupational phantom-limb is compulsive phone monitoring. Despite my new schedule, I still adhere to my old routine of pulling out my phone every few minutes, expecting important emails, reminders and events. Of course now, my phone repeatedly presents me with a striking lack of responsibilities. I can holster the...