I feel like I'm living in an AU

The more I settle in to this de-leveraged lifestyle, the more I become convinced that--while we were giving our damnedest to make it work--our previous life would have killed us.  That it was killing us, slowly and inexorably.  The last four months have been defined by things falling away; bad jobs, the house, all kinds of stuff and commitments, even a few loved ones.  It's been a nonstop mixed bag of tricks.  I spent 70 days sleeping on the floor of an attic, a kind of ascetic quarantine between my old life and this new one still forming, which sucked for about a month until my back began to recover from being a desk jockey.

I've gotten to know my kid better, I've reconnected with my love, I'm sleeping well, I'm unpacking the house and making it work, and I have a sunny quiet spot where I can write.  I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Instead, I get huge flaming omens that I escaped the gerbil wheel just in the nick of time.

I'm trying to figure out how this is supposed to work.  I'm so used to the necessity of constant effort and vigilance, of never having a moment to stop and think, that I'm a bit confounded as to where to even begin with a slower pace and a far more reasonable set of duties.  My wardrobe does not have to conform to a dress code.  I am in a complete and total Results Oriented Work Environment--and I get to determine what those results are to begin with.  So there's a lot of thinking going on these days, and not the kind that keeps you up at night, but the kind that ferments and distills and blends.