A (0:00)

This episode is brought to you by Peloton Break through the busiest time of year with the brand new Peloton Cross Training Tread plus, powered by Peloton iq. With real time guidance and endless ways to move, you can personalize your workouts and train with confidence, helping you reach your goals in less time. Let yourself run, lift, sculpt, push and go. Explore the new peloton cross training TREAD plus@onepelaton.com Foreign.

B (0:35)

I am Nicole Khalil and you're listening to the this Is Woman's Work podcast, the Unfiltered and Unhinged Edition. Short episodes, Big truths, Absolutely zero perfection. Okay, so do you ever read or hear something that feels like it was pulled straight out of your own brain? Like the sender has some sort of secret access into your life and then decided to share a message that you uniquely needed to hear? I do hope that happens on occasion when you listen to the podcast or read my substack. And of course it happens for me too when I read other people's Like a few months back when I read a substack from Nora McInerney. I think that's how you say her name. Anyway, it's stopped me in my tracks. I've read it multiple times and it's 100% the inspiration for this message. And let me be clear, this concept is hers and I'm just sharing it with you. In her substack, she talks about having something she calls Restless Life Syndrome. Now, I don't know if it's an official diagnosis, it's not, but I'm officially diagnosing myself with it anyway. It's like I've diagnosed myself with everything from OCD to vitamin deficiencies to a rare medical condition that nobody's ever heard of, all courtesy of late night Google searches. Do I actually have Restless Life Syndrome? Who knows? I mean, I guess I do. But it does explain a lot. It's that feeling that I'm not necessarily dissatisfied, just restless, curious, convinced that there are at least 14 other lives that I'm supposed to be living and somehow I'm supposed to live them all in this one lifetime. So this is inspired or blatantly stolen from Nora's email where she shared a list of things that she wants to do and she says unless she loses interest or changes her mind, I figured I'd make my own list too. And so here it is. I want to live abroad, somewhere with walkable streets where I can be the kind of woman who has three hour lunches and owns linen pants. I also want to take a sabbatical. And step one of that sabbatical would be to stop glorifying productivity. Step 2 Step to panic about not being productive. Step 3 Lie down until further notice. I mean, I'm working on this one. I'm preparing for summer of this year. I also want to learn a craft that was popular in the 1800s. Something like knitting or cross stitch candle making. I don't really care. I just want to sit by the candlelight muttering this used to be woman's work while stabbing something with purpose or creating something that I can burn. You know, something wholesome and meditative that will temporarily distract me from capitalism until I start an Etsy shop and ruin it all. I next want to speak Italian. My plan is to move to Italy, shout Ciao bella at everything that moves and rely on carbs and intuition until the language just sort of happens. I don't want to so much learn Italian as absorb it through osmosis, gelato and lots of pasta. In case you're wondering, I am aware that this isn't a reasonable list. That doesn't prevent me from really wanting to do things like learn how to bake a really good gluten free sourdough, one that doesn't feel like punishment or tastes like drywall. I, by the way, am not gluten free. I will take all of the gluten, but I'm married to somebody with an intolerance, so realistically, Jay will end up making it while I sit nearby with a block of cheese, offering moral support and calling it teamwork. Because that's what a sous chef does. Right? Next up, I want to live on a farm out in the middle of nowhere with goats and chickens and a garden that'll pretend to know how to maintain while googling things like like why are my tomatoes sad? But I somehow also want to live in a city where I can walk to overpriced coffee shops and bookstores. It's delusional. I still want it. Apparently I contain both multitudes and denial. I also want to own or work or maybe more like loiter in a bookstore. I don't want to manage anything or commit to a schedule. I just want to drink coffee, rearrange shelves, and make unsolicited book recommendations to strangers. That one changed my life. I'll say about every third book they touch. If you're still with me, congratulations. You might have restless life syndrome too. Because next up, I want to partner with my sister to create some sort of cool, safe, fun place for women to gather where something like a circle of trust meets a collective exhale with snacks and lots of swearing. We'll play mahjong, hang out on comfy couches. We wear housecoats and laugh so hard we cackle because we want to. And that's the only reason we'll need I also want to do a do it Yourself project in my own house. I want to be one of those women who says we just decided to open up that wall without it turning into a financial and emotional disaster and I'd like to do it without hiring a contractor who charges me double and takes twice as long as they said they were going to. Maybe a little bit more of a meaningful one is that I want to take JJ on the most epic mom daughter trip ever. She picks everything. Where we go, what we eat, what we learn. And I'm somehow both excited and terrified that it'll involve some sort of Taylor Swift pilgrimage and roller coasters. I also want to do the same thing with my mom, only this one will involve more wine, zero roller coasters, and lots of Remember Win stories that neither of us actually remembers correctly because of the wine, not because we're old. And because some of the things on my list are dreams and some are anchors. Some have to be ridiculous. Like this next one. I want to have a gaggle of pugs. I don't even know what the correct term is for. For a dozen pugs. Maybe it's a loaf, I don't know. But I just want a small army of flat faced, snorting little potatoes who follow me everywhere. I'll get them matching outfits. People will say that seems excessive and they'll be right. I also want to take an epic girls trip. No plans, no purpose, no pretending. Just beaches, laughter that turns feral, and women who love you exactly as you are, unfiltered, unshowered, and somehow more yourself than you've been in months. I want to read a hundred books in a year. Not a single one about leadership or even confidence or growth. Just fiction, mysteries, and the complete satisfaction of ignoring the real world under the guise of literary ambition. And maybe I want to squat my body weight. Or don't. I can't really tell if I want to or if I just want to want to. Because fitness culture doesn't know what to do with women who are content. So maybe not doing that is my next rebellion. Who knows? Honestly, I'm still impressed that I'm showing up to lift heavy things in the first place. Okay, I also want to become a tourist in my own country. I Live just outside of Boston, which means there's plenty of American history to discover. Fun fact. My town had more witchcraft accusations than even Salem did. Coincidence? I think not. It also happens to have the oldest independent bookstore in America, which feels like proof that I was cosmically assigned to this zip code. So maybe I'll start there. A little history and maybe a little witchcraft, you know, just to keep things interesting. So, naturally, I gotta end with this. I want to learn witchcraft. Or something else that scares people a little. You know, because being an independent woman is so scary, you have to call them witches. And I'm not hexing anyone. At least not yet. I just want to feel more connected to the mystery, the intuition, the knowing. Plus, I'll already know how to make the candles. So there's my list. And it begs the question, do I have work goals? Of course I do. But when I get restless, it's rarely because I've lost focus at work. It's because I've forgotten about life. So here's to Restless Life Syndrome, the diagnosis none of us asked for. But that explains everything. The 12 open tabs, the impulse to burn it all down and start over. The deep conviction that fulfillment is just one hobby spell or home renovation away. Are you feeling restless? Good. Now go write your own list. There's no right or wrong way to do it. Actually, I take that back. There is a right way. It's big, audacious, slightly unhinged. And there is a wrong way. It's practical, linear, responsible, and boring. So tell me about something on your list. I'd love to know what you're dreaming about or maybe plotting. And if this kind of unfiltered, slightly unhinged, deeply human truth is your thing, make sure you're subscribed to the this Is Woman's Work podcast so you don't miss anything. And if you prefer reading about things like Restless Life Syndrome, you'll find the links in Notes to my substack, where all of my best and worst ideas live. I'm going to leave it at that and go about my business while lighting a candle I definitely didn't hex anyone with, because hexing may or may not be woman's work. Foreign.