Ask A.J. is Slate’s advice column on addiction, recovery, and how to hate yourself less. Submit a question here. It’s anonymous!
Dear A.J.,
I am five-and-a-half years sober and in a recovery program. As of now, I am between jobs and am finding myself with tons of time off. My bad brain can peak when it has too much idle time. Do you have tips for structuring a day now that I’m left to my own (questionable) devices?
—Idle Hands
Dear Idle Hands,
This is the danger zone, isn’t it? When we have all this freedom to do whatever we’re supposed to do, but instead we choose what isn’t good for us.
Do you remember during the early days of the pandemic when some of your shell-shocked friends posted their absurdly ambitious daily routines on social media (7 a.m.: Mediate for three hours! 10 a.m.: Learn to speak Cantonese! 1 p.m.: Finish first draft of memoir!) but whose steam quickly ran out once they realized that maybe it was OK to just sit around with a bowlful of edibles and watch Floor Is Lava all day instead? Some people lost their minds, while others flourished, and the ones who flourished already had a solid routine in place. That’s what you’re missing.
In sobriety, nothing is more depressing or unmooring to me than the idea that I have wasted a day, neglecting the use of my sober body, brain, or curiosity to withdraw from the outside world. But if I’m not careful, I can slip into some bad habits quickly. I’ll get a day off from family obligations and work, plan to do nothing but more work, and end up “relaxing” by watching movies all day, which leaves me feeling utterly depleted and depressed about not having planned my day better. I never feel restored when all I did was rewatch a Jason Statham movie for the 10th time instead of doing something that enriches my life, like visiting a museum or having a long catch-up conversation with a friend.
Even though I have some pretty solid recovery, having extra “free” time is disorienting to me, and it makes me acutely aware of my desire to do something that isn’t great for me in an attempt to change my feelings. Even if it’s not through my preferred illicit substance, if I’m not careful, I can fall apart. For me, the more unaccounted-for hours in a day I have, the more junk food I eat. We’re talking Egg McMuffins for breakfast and sheet cake for a midnight snack. That’s why I need a plan! And it sounds like you do as well, so here’s one I use that I’ll pass on to you.
First, when you’re not working on an actual job, work on your passion project for one hour per day: writing a screenplay, knitting a boater’s shawl, learning how to speak Cantonese—you get the idea. Make that your new “nine-to-five,” but don’t make it an eight-hour workday—stick to an hour or two max.
I’d been gearing up to write a horror short story “when I got the time,” and I realized the only way I got anything done was by devoting an hour per day to it, rather than setting aside a full day to try to get as much done as possible. The freedom messed me up. Once I kept it to an hour per day, there was more progress and less clutter. Also—this is important—if you don’t get anything done in that hour, don’t take another one. Just get back to it the next day. Try to make it the same time every day, too. Consistency is key.
Since you’re in recovery, my second suggestion is to double every tool you use in your program. It’s one of the easiest life hacks there is for a sober person who is blessed with more time and a worried mind: double your meetings, double how many outreach calls you make in a week, double your prayers, double your service commitments—you get the idea. Your idle time will be put to good use, especially for those who need it most. Your head will be clear, you’ll grow, and you’ll feel sturdier than ever to handle the stresses of unemployment and financial strain.
A few more suggestions: Read 30 minutes per day—but a physical book, not on a device. Make it one that’s intimidated you for a long time. You’ve got the time to just sit and study it. This may or may not be pleasurable—that’s why you should only do it for 30 minutes. I tried to read Russian novelists when I had a stretch of unemployment, and it sucked, but now I can confidently tell people I read The Idiot. (Even though it took me a few weeks.) Getting some physical activity in should be a given, but don’t try to train for a marathon right away if that’s not something you want to do. Better to find a team sport: tennis, pickleball, or some sort of martial art you were always curious about. If you’re not team-oriented, try tai chi. There are plenty of beginner sessions on YouTube that’ll help you move your body in a meaningful way.
I’ll leave you with something I recently learned from an actor friend of mine about how he learned to handle rejection and the long stretches of unemployment he often has between gigs. He told me that a few years ago, another show he was on was canceled, and he was doing a terrible job hiding his bitterness. He had just become an overall miserable person, which he thought was the normal way to react. His Jedi-level manager took him out for lunch and said to him, “The only way you’re going to survive in this business is if you make this time—the time when you’re not working—the fun part.” His manager reminded him that it was his job to find him work and that he would eventually, but in the meantime, it’s important that he learn how to live his best life in between jobs.
So good luck on this new adventure: Stay safe, sober, and sane during this disruption. And have fun.