I can’t remember when it hit me. It could have been when I was completing yet another admin task, using yet another random app called something like “Lettuce”. It could have been when I found myself leaving the office after spending eight hours crouched over a laptop like a dishevelled cave crab. It could have been when I realised that the years were flying by — the pandemic had me locked inside for the latter half of my 20s — and I was still doing exactly the same thing.
Either way, at some point, I thought to myself: I need a bit of leisure in my life, or something’s going to give. And then, all of a sudden, it happened: I quit my job as a senior editor during a cost-of-living crisis, went freelance, became a lot more broke and started waking up whenever I liked.
We’re told, constantly and subtly, that ambition is one of the most important traits a person can have. And I totally get it — I’m naturally ambitious myself. In 2021, I released a book, All the Things She Said. I’d like to write more. I’d love to get to a place in which I feel creatively and professionally fulfilled, with all of the benefits that can come from that.
But I also wasn’t born into money, and have realised that so much about ambition is based on a lie — the lie that if only you worked harder and harder then everything would magically fall into place, and if it’s not falling into place, then you must not be working hard enough. And that we must keep doing this until we are lucky enough to buy a house, and then die, hopefully with our energy bills paid.
I’m not the only person — particularly among the child-free in their 20s and 30s — to be realigning their relationship to ambition right now. Some have called this “The Great Resignation” or the “Age of Anti-Ambition” as workers quit their jobs en masse, some burnt-out post-pandemic, some just bored of a career in which they never seem to move upwards.
For me, stepping back for a moment has been a revelation. Yes, I can no longer afford to go out for dinner, and any dreams of saving are just that (dreams), but for the most part I’m happy. I go to the gym in the morning. I read in the garden. I keep my stress levels to a minimum, seeing friends and making cheap food at home. I know I’m fortunate — there are people with families to feed, those who have to work nonstop, or who aren’t in any position to go freelance. But I am enjoying this pause, while it lasts.
I’m aware that this life of leisure is likely to be unsustainable. There will come a point — probably in the near future —when I get tired of chasing invoices and tired of saying “I can’t make it, sorry, I don’t have any money.” But for now, it’s been a healthy choice for me. My face looks a little brighter, my curiosity a little deeper, my mind refreshed.
I’ve rediscovered my love of long reads, curled up in bed at night, and have randomly got into hiking. Is my ambition dead? No. But is it OK to put it on ice for some inner peace? Absolutely.
Give Taylor Swift a break
If you’ve spent any time online, you’ll know that pop icon Taylor Swift is now dating The 1975’s Matt Healy, much to the chagrin of her young fans and also apparently now Azealia Banks, who said, and I quote: “Taylor, this guy is gonna give you scabies… He’s not on the level of powerful p***y u worked HELLA Hard To build.”
I don’t know about the scabies, or the other stuff, but what I do know from experience is that the more ill-advised a partner might be, the more appealing they tend to suddenly become.
I can’t be the only person who would always rather go for a poser with greasy hair and a little chain than a nice, sensible companion in a scarf and boat shoes?
Also, she’s just come out of a six-year relationship! Please, let her live a little!
