On Finding Relief in Liminal Space

A contract gig, a beach weekend, and the answers I don't quite have yet

It turns out, all I needed was some income and a weekend spent 10 steps away from the beach.

Who knew?

I briefly mentioned this in my last essay (which, as an aside, I got so many lovely comments on and i still haven’t responded to many of them. I feel bad about that but will get back to you all soon!), but I am not completely unemployed¹ anymore. I say completely, because my new gig is currently a three-month contract, and so while I have the security of some income, that stability is not long-term.

But honestly? It feels like it’s exactly what I need right now. The liminal space of contract work is both daunting but also welcome. It’s a tangible next step without the permanency, so I can still figure out ‘what’s next’ while having something in the interim.

I've wanted to get away for Labor Day weekend since last Labor Day weekend, but when I lost my job, I came to terms with not going anywhere. Despite my reality, I still found myself dreaming of packing our bags and spending a few days somewhere more remote than Brooklyn, maybe with a body of water somewhere nearby.

Then, a few weeks ago I applied for and got accepted to a writer's retreat being held upstate in November, and I poured a bit out from my savings to make that work. While excited, that was the moment I really came to terms with the fact that I wouldn't be going anywhere for the holiday.

And then, on the Thursday before Labor Day, I signed this three-month contract. 24 hours later, we booked a very last-minute Airbnb in Connecticut, at a house steps away from a private beach. And on Saturday morning, we were leaving Brooklyn — I had my toes in the sand less than two days after signing my offer.

I've been carrying multiple weights on my shoulders for the past few months, but finally, one by one, they've started to lift. A call about a potential opportunity, an offer, some brief negotiation, an Airbnb, sitting in traffic on I-95, dipping my toes in the sand, washing the salt water out of my hair.

Each moment marked another weight being lifted, making it clear that maybe all I needed was the safety that income brings and a bit of reprieve from city life.

Who knew?

There is something about being in nature — whether that's in the woods or in the mountains or on the shore — that is deeply restorative. For me, there’s nothing quite like the combination of sand and water nearby to fully ground me, to let my body find full rest.

There's something comforting about knowing we’ve stretched the budget a few more months and have gained some extra time, even if it's not the 'ultimate security' that a W2 paycheck brings.

Can I just live like this? Work contract to contract? Charge enough to cover insurance, to cover the headache of figuring out my own withholding (or to hire the person who will do this for me), to make the risk of not having my next job immediately at the ready worth it? Charge enough to never work in July or August again, and to not have to jump immediately into a new job after one ends? I’ve asked these questions before, but now that I’m staring at my first foray into contract work, this feels like an exploration that could, perhaps, be worth my time.

While I see how this very well can be my reality, there’s also something about the façade of security I can’t quite let go of.

Max Pete said it best in his latest article, The Tech Dream is a Nightmare. He writes:

“I don’t think tech is bad. I just think a lot of us finally see it for what it is.

At its best, tech is a tool. But we were sold it as a religion. A belief system. A way of life. “Move fast and break things” wasn’t just a motto; it was an identity. And now we’re all sitting here among the broken pieces, wondering what, exactly, got better…

…If 2015–2020 felt like the tech industry was alive with possibility, 2023–now feels like it’s on autopilot. And being part of that system is exhausting.

The feeling of being on autopilot is one that I think many people experience in roles that come with golden handcuffs², but reading this articulated how I’ve been feeling about my work in particular for a while and taps into the zeitgeist of collective exhaustion so many of us in the industry are feeling.

Spending Labor Day weekend on the sand, in the water, watching the waves from the balcony, and sharing meals as a family was the perfect culmination of my unemployed summer — and also a perfect send-off to working again. I fell asleep early every night, and while deeply relaxed, I also felt like I couldn’t quite wake up. The past three months of emotion finally settling, my body and mind finally feeling safe enough for true rest. My Oura ring tells me it’s some of the longest (and most restorative) sleep I’ve gotten all year.

Even though I kept my watch off all weekend, I still wasn’t able to get rid of that pesky tan line. It’s better, but not gone. On our second-to-last day, a horseshoe crab washed up on shore. I spent the last 24 hours watching the aftermath. One brave seagull did the bulk of the work for a good meal, then a few more came over to enjoy the fruits of his or her labor. And then a flock of smaller birds (I am sorry, I do not really know my birds, so I did not clock what type they were) came over and picked at what they could.

And on our last day, the shell remained on the shore, and I finally found the courage to walk up to it to see what was left. Not much. There’s probably a metaphor here, though I don’t quite feel like I’m in the mood to find it. I am, perhaps, too close to whatever the metaphor is.

But yes — all that is to say I have a “job”. In quotes, of course, because of the lack of permanency. But that feels like more of a relief than a full-time offer would right now. I think I’m craving being in between for a little bit longer.

But what does this all mean?

For work and finances, it means the space to breathe for a few months, first and foremost. It gives me the opportunity to work in a new industry and give a project-based gig a try. So far, after three days, it’s going well. I'm being intentional about my time and what I want to accomplish, and I feel like I can package my work into a nice, three-month window. At this moment, the contract as an end date, and I know I have the luxury to not have to jump to my next whatever immediately.

As a person with ADHD, I am realizing that the structure of sustained, long-term work is really hard on me. I suppose I've always known that, but I've also resigned myself to the fact that that's what life — and work — is.

Too bad, so sad. A full-time 9-5 job is just part of the reality, so figure out ways to deal with it. This is it for the next ~thirty years or so. Have fun!

I do figure out ways to deal with it, and I have for a long time, and will continue to if need be.

But there’s something about having a fixed amount of time to work through a fixed project, knowing there's a built-in break waiting for me at the end, that feels like a dream come true. It's not without stress, of course, and I think one of the things I’m hoping to figure out over the next three months is the answer to this question: Is it worth it?

At this moment, I don’t know if it is. I do know that I don't love not knowing what's next. I know I like the security and consistency of that W2 job, and that's the biggest thing that's kept me from completely pursuing doing my own thing for so long. But I also know that I am curious, and I think that’s all I can ask for right now.

So, this opportunity, which feels like it landed in my lap a bit feels like the perfect playground to test it all out.

For my free time, it means doing the work to maintain some of the things I did this summer while unemployed that made my life easier and/or more enjoyable. Things like keeping up with the housework (when do I fold my laundry if not at 1 pm on a Thursday? I guess I’ll find out), getting in my precious daily walks (even if they’re from my walking pad under my standing desk), and continuing to find time for my Portuguese lessons and strength training sessions. Easy to fit in when time feels more open and endless, but also knowing I was able to accomplish all of this during the last three months because of how important each of them felt.

And of course writing.

What does this mean for my writing? For starters, I am looking forward to taking a break from writing about career and employment (or lack thereof), even if only for a little while. To instead, writing more about parenting, ADHD, the way identities and relationships change over time, and other things I deem important at any given moment.

I'll keep sending pitches out, as that is always something fun for me. It's creatively draining, but in a good way. I have the time to continue with my freelance writing work, and I want to get back to journaling — I've been pretty bad at that!

And overall, I more than ever know I do not live to work. I’ve always known this, but I will unapologetically shout it out loud now. I respect people who do (and am honestly jealous of that trait). But I know it's not me, and I'm done forcing it and pretending that it is. I'm clear that work, for me, is a means to an end; and that what's most important is time with my family, living life, and connecting with myself.

There's a lot unknown right now. Yes, there's more stability, but I still feel like I'm in a very transitional state. I'm getting clarity brick by brick, but each layer adds more questions for me to answer.

I don't like the unknown, but I am learning to work with it and show it radical acceptance. I can't force the answer, I can't force clarity (and I hate that), but I also know that whatever is coming, whatever I need to know, will reveal itself in time. Yeah, ugh. Just tell me now, I think.

Just as the last few months have unfolded, I'm holding on to the fact that that will continue to happen. So I wait, not passively, but not forcing it either. For now, that feels like enough.

Who knew?

ending with some mems <3

1. I was never completely unemployed to be honest, as I've mentioned, I have a client I work with doing social and community work, but it takes up a fraction of my day and makes up for a fraction of lost income (not a knock -- I am incredibly grateful for it, but the truth). But now I've got a gig that that fills the rest of my time, for now.

2. I’d assumed this phrase started it tech but it was first recorded in 1976