Even though the calendar says summer won’t arrive for a few weeks (unofficially), or until June (officially), the season’s begun for me. And not a moment too soon!

At my social club, I have a small room where I can go to get away from it all. The club is located in a beautiful, bucolic place where one can still spot wildlife (including the occasional bear…but rarely), dream by a stream weaving through the trees, hear the wind whispering through the leaves, and walk down dirt-and-stone roads to take it all in. Though I live in the country, this place is also in the country, but provides a completely different vibe.

My room is probably smaller than most living rooms, but it has all I need: a comfortable bed, a dresser, chair, table, dorm fridge and is right next to the toilets and showers. It’s in a gated complex, which means I really do leave the world behind when I get there. It’s shut out tight behind me, forgotten until I drive out its gates. No matter what troubles me, I can go into my room and forget about it.

Right now, I need that space more than ever. My mind has been whirling in endless circles. Being unemployed is as stressful as divorce and death. And if you think about it, they’re very much alike. One minute you have a job, then the next thing you know, you’re out of one. It’s died. It’s over. I spend my whole days in front of the computer searching, applying, hoping. Every cover letter is tweaked to resemble the qualifications that I certainly have, but so far can’t convince anyone that I do.

Earlier today, as I sent off yet another job application for something I’m surely not going to get, I broke down and cried. Couldn’t take it anymore. My sanity is being compromised. I’ve never been this long without work. I feel as if the universe is punishing me for something I’m not sure what I’ve done. My sleep is broken, my appetite goes in and out. I’ve gained weight, mainly because I’ve become sedentary trying to find work.

What’s ironic is that when I’ve sat in front of a computer when I did have work, I never gained weight. Mainly because I was so occupied with what I was doing I barely ate. Or got up to stretch and move around a bit. Now, my eyes feel like they’re going to come out of my head from staring at the screen. I feel guilty if I haven’t combed LinkedIn, Glassdoor, Flexjobs, Indeed, et al, from the moment I wake until I drop from exhaustion. When I took a break during gorgeous weather yesterday to go to the grocery store, I felt like I was cheating somehow. Like the folks at Unemployment would discover the chains from my chair fell open, allowing my escape so I could pick up milk and vegetables, and they’d come after me, accusing me of slacking off. Never mind I’ve not received a single check, even though I began applying in March.

So once I head to the club, I leave my computer behind, and keep the worries at bay. Yes, I have my phone with me and I do check emails and messages, and occasionally take a phone call. Time becomes my own again. Days are simply idyllic. I wake up early, go for a walk or a swim. Everything’s peaceful and calm. Even if it’s raining, it’s soothing to hear the drops fall through the leaves, pattering on my room’s roof. I enjoy a simple breakfast, pour my coffee into a travel mug and head to the kitchen.

Since the club’s a co-op, all members have to contribute. I’m the chef, running the kitchen on the weekends. It gives me a sense of purpose and besides, it’s fun. Everyone knows who I am, even though I struggle with some members’ names (we do have quite a few members). So from Memorial Day to Labor Day, I plan menus during the week and prepare them on the weekends. It’s creative work, appreciated by eager diners anticipating a quality meal.

Afterwards, I go for a swim, sit by the pool and read, or join friends in conversation. Sometimes I go out to dinner with friends, or we make it. Usually in the evenings I hang out and talk over a glass of wine or cup of tea. Or go back into my room and finish whatever I was reading. It doesn’t matter. I’m at my sanctuary, and for a weekend, I can recharge and destress.

When I pull out of the gate on Sundays, there’s always a tinge of sadness. I’m leaving the place I love. It’s been so very good to me, like a second home. A retreat. But I know I’m coming back on the next weekend, just in time for the sun to pour through my room’s windows, welcoming me with warmth.

Persistence tells me I’ll eventually find work. My gut tells me I’ll find something too. Dear Universe, please make it sooner than later. While I love my sanctuary, I’ll be grateful for the peace of mind I’ll have when I start working again.