Playing the roles

People become defined by the roles they play. When I retired and moved away, I was stunned by the difference in how I was perceived. When I worked outside the home, I was someone who was noticed by others. People knew what I was capable of. I was liked, admired, feared by some, disliked and disapproved of by others. It was fun for many years. Then it wasn't. I wanted a change.  I retired.

When I moved, I had no personal accomplishments to define me. I knew no one, except the people who called me wife, mother, and grandmother. I was still thinking in terms of roles, and those seemed like the only ones I had. 

It took me a couple years to get my bearings.   

Now I realize retirement is a transformation. Instead of looking outward for approval, I have learned to define myself. Big change.

I'm actually a lot more like I was at 18. Carefree, creatively involved, interested, and curious. I do what I want. I think what I will. It has been a relief to step back and let the world carry on without me. 

Change is freakin' hard.  But it is the nature of life, so there you go.

"JOSEPH CAMPBELL: If you follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. Wherever you are -- if you are following your bliss, you are enjoying that refreshment, that life within you, all the time."

Change #3,427, Now I take pictures of alligators. 

Unconsciously in Control

Sometimes I simply shut down. This happens when I'm overwhelmed but I don't realize I need a break. Then my unconscious mind steps in and takes charge. My UC mind is my BFF.  She loves me.

I rarely relaxed during my working years. There was so much to do, and it all seemed earthshakingly important. Then UC mind would swoop in like the super hero she is. I would find myself forgetting appointments and meetings. It was wicked, sinful, glorious. Letting your unconscious "have at it" is a bit like having a personal assistant.

Over time I had more demanding jobs, with increasingly difficult people to accommodate. I became a supervisor and you know how that goes (hint: STRESS and confrontation). I was a manager of large academic and research departments. These jobs were ridiculous. Ick. 

I have said this before, but I'll say it again because it is key to who I am in my dotage: For most of my life I had minimal control over what problem happened next, and maximum responsibility for resolving it.

In retirement I've stopped answering my phone. What a joy it is to let that sucker ring! I procrastinate with gusto. I'm good at this retirement thing.

When it is not hotter than Hell, I might power garden for hours at a time. Gardening is hard work, but it is also like meditation. Get your hands in the dirt and the cares of the world fall away. 

Sometimes that's what I consciously want, for all the cares of the world to fall away.

First world problems

Our air conditioning unit broke down last Sunday. That's always traumatic in July or August when 90-100° days, replete with drenching humidity, are common. Luckily, it was a relatively cool 86° with cloud cover and rainstorms.

The total repair charges end up being about $750. We will also be signing up for their yearly maintenance plan, which is $179 for the coming year. The guy told us that a new unit, which we "should really think about getting soon" would be $6,500. Yeah, right.

I think about this, and all the other charges for house maintenance. I wonder how many more years T and I will be able to afford to live in our own house.

Then I feel ashamed of my petty worries. Even if we were forced to sell and go into a small apartment we would still have enough. Enough is so much more than most people have. What a rough and tumble, frightening world we live in. 

My Day of Rest

Sunday is my day of rest. I'm happily retired, so why would I, of all people, need a day of rest? Because it is hard to find my way back to me. Know what I mean?

One friend (who is still working) often accuses me of being a "princess" when I complain. Hey! After 45 years of working jobs I didn't love, and putting other people first, I want to be a princess now.

A couple of months ago I noticed I was always in a hurry and unable to relax. I was over scheduled, which happens, dontcha know? However, I don't want to eliminate any of the things I do.

My solution was to make Sunday my day of rest. On Sunday I only do what I want to do, even if it is nothing.

Sunday is now the day that I feel most retired and free. I look forward to it. Everyone should have a least one "ME" day each week. If I ruled the world you would have one, too.   

I could get an exact copy of this tiara for $15.99 on amazon

Retirees dream of past workplaces

I had an unsettling dream last night. In it I was recalled from the comfortable peace of retirement to return to my old job to stage an important event for the department. I did a bad job of it. Yes, it was a nightmare.

The Associate Dean of Administration, my former mentor, showed up for this dream event. She angrily asked why I hadn't arranged for a specific faculty member to be there to hand out awards to graduate students. I replied, "I don't care." Sheesh. I was always defiant, but this reply takes the cake. Later in the dream I remembered that the particular professor she asked about died last weekend (in real life), but it was too late to undo the damage my flippant statement made. The AD of A was red-faced furious and ever so done with me. That still hurts.

My "dream" staff (consisting of co-workers from a couple of different actual real jobs) were disgusted with me.  I tried to apologize to them, and closed my eyes for a few moments as I spoke deep from my heart about all my faults. When I was done, I realized the staff members left. They never heard my apologies because they didn't care what I had to say.

My dear friend, the Director of Human Resources (D of HR) for the college, tried to intervene and save me. Bless her sweet heart, I do so love that woman. She lined up an interview with another department. I tried to tell her I was retired, and had earned the maximum work income Social Security would allow this year, but she insisted I must redeem myself. I was freaked out about losing Social Security income for the rest of this year AND had interview anxiety.  Aaack.

I forgot the exact time she had scheduled the interview for. My cell phone was dead. I had to call the D of HR on a public phone. Yes, there was still a public phone box in my dream reality, and it was free! I didn't have to dial. I simply screamed into the phone and she answered. It was also more of a perforated disk than any public phone I've ever seen, but I digress. She said the interview was in a half hour and I needed to get there right away. She would meet me and go through the interview with me (unheard of in reality, but much appreciated in dream-time). 

Unfortunately there was a flood I had to wade through on my way to the building. It slowed me down. I was afraid I wouldn't make it in time. When I finally arrived at the building I couldn't find the room. The D of HR found me wandering the halls and helped me find the room. 

Then I woke up.

I am thankful I didn't have to go through that interview.  I would have screwed that up, too.

This is an actual gargoyle from outside one of the buildings I used to work in

Of course, a uniform!!!

It's hot, and it's going to get hotter. June in Florida is idyllic compared to July and August. Worse than being hot, it gets thick and steamy humid.  Like you step out of your car and your glasses fog up kind of humid. I tried to walk barefoot from the house to our curbside mail box yesterday, and already the sidewalk burns the bottoms of my feet. I had to divert my path onto the grass. You may not realize this, but grass in Florida is not the kind of grass you actually want to walk on. Here, the grass grows out instead of up, and is not particularly soft to walk on. There are fire ants. I try to avoid the grass, and I am thankful for flip flops. 

So I know you are all wondering, what does a Florida retiree woman wear in this year-round, subtropical wonderland?  Well, I have a closet filled with t-shirts, shorts, and capris.  This is what I've been wearing every day for the past 4 years. I've never been a fashion maven, although I admire the aesthetics of fashion. I wish I cared more, but I have never had the money or inclination to pursue fashion in any real sense. I admire from afar.

Summer down here is almost too hot for wearing pants, so recently I bought a housedress. It is a simple A-line, sleeveless dress in a soft indigo fabric. This fabulous dress is comfortable and looks passably good on me. How could I resist? It functions well as long as I don't leave the house, try to garden, or bike. For hanging around the house being an aging bon vivant, this housedress is perfect. In fact, I love it beyond reason. I am happy when I put it on. Consequently, I ordered another one just exactly like it. Would it be ridiculous to order a third?  If I have three, it kind of becomes a uniform.  One less choice to make. One less thing to consider. I think I'm good with that. Going online right now for #3.

Toil and Trouble

I am reminded of a certain fairy tale, The Six Swans. In this story the princess was forced to work her fingers to the bone sewing shirts out of nettle for her six brothers.  They had been turned into swans by their (of course) evil stepmother. The princess could not speak during the duration, so she was unable to tell her father what transpired. Only by silently completing this impossible task could she free her loved ones and herself.

For six long years she toiled until she completed the onerous and painful work. There was blood, for crying out loud! There was a marriage. There was an evil (of course) mother-in-law who kept stealing the princess's new-born babies and making it look like the princess devoured them. Still, the princess could not speak to defend herself or the six brothers would be lost. Finally, at the end of six years she was sentenced to be burned to death for, ostensibly, eating her children.

Only at the last minute did she finish those shirts enough to throw them over her brothers as they flew overhead, returning them to their true shape. The last shirt wasn't entirely finished, so one brother had one wing instead of an arm. What the hell! It was the best she could do.

At the moment of deliverance, she recovered her voice. She was finally able to speak the truth. She got her brothers AND her babies back. That was the big payoff.

Call me crazy, but this reminds me of retirement. How many people at the end of their working lives, having sacrificed themselves for the betterment of their family at jobs they did not love, can relate to this fairy tale? 

Illustration by H.J. Ford

Waking up without a smile

I sort out a lot in that short period of time between waking and rising. 

I have said this before, being able to enjoy the morning is perhaps the greatest joy of retirement. I find the experience evolving as I become more comfortable being less productive. It is now less a stolen pleasure and more an important part of my day. 

If I can remember my dreams, I try and pay attention to what my unconscious mind was trying to tell me during the night. Unfortunately, I don't often remember my dreams. Too bad, because they can be quite informative. If only our unconscious minds could learn to speak English instead of Symbol, right?

I am now at my most mindful and self-aware in the morning. This is a huge change from my working years when mornings were spent on autopilot. It took me at least a year to figure out what to do with my mornings in retirement. I'm getting the hang of it, but for some reason I am still not "happy" once I get out of bed in the morning. Is this because of habit, guilt, or chemical imbalance? I don't understand. I am a reasonably happy person. I just can't get get rid of the morning blues. It takes a cup of coffee or three before I let my shoulders down.

I'm curious, does anyone over 7 years old wake up feeling like a million dollars? I use 7 as the cut off point because that's when the Catholic Church decided a child reached the age of reason, and I suspect reason is what obliterates joy. Actually, I think 5 might be a better age. Kids grow up faster these days.

Alarming

ANOTHER great thing about being retired (!) is that I do not have to wake up to the sound of a jarring alarm 5 mornings out of 7. In fact, this is one of my "10 best things about being retired:"

1.  I get to say whatever I want

2.  I don't have to be nice to people I don't like

3.  I don't wake up to an alarm, I get up when I wake up.

4.  I don't have to wash my hair every day

5.  I don't have to buy Xmas presents for co-workers

6.  I wear flip flops instead of shoes every day

7.  I stopped wearing contact lenses and using eye makeup

8.  I can shop in the grocery store when most people are at work 

9.  Biking is my life

10. The only people who tell me what to do now are people who love me (and I don't have to do what they say)

Did I miss anything?

Turtle Musings

The blogger am recently commented on my turtle masthead. She is an artist and a women of power. When she speaks of images, I pay attention. 

This photo represents a creature with fears and anxieties, but who pokes her head out of her shell from time to time with great hope and with as much energy as she can muster. She is small and seemingly insignificant. She is slow, but she is steady. Despite being restrained by a giant, she is curious and takes a chance by coming out of her shell to see what is going on. Who knows where that small act of courage might take her? 

I came late to blogland. I started writing in 2012, when I went to help my daughter for a few weeks after the birth of her son. I blogged to share the experience with my large extended family. They probably didn't read it.

Many of the original posts have long since been deleted because they revealed too much about me. I retreated back into my shell. I let my writing slide when I went back home and returned to work.

As I prepared to retire in 2013, I started blogging again. This blog became my lifeline as I adjusted to a new and considerably less productive life. This is where I think out loud.

I hope you have noticed the other turtle on my page. She lives on the bottom. She is swimming in full glory. If the little, tentative turtle on the top of my page is where I started, then the big one at the bottom is the one I hope someday to become. 

A case for volunteering

Tomorrow I go to the NOW (National Organization of Women) conference. I am going with one of the other administrators from the political Facebook group I moderate for. Hopefully, we will learn practical skills we can take back and use for our Florida group. I am looking forward to it, even though I dread going. Does that make sense?

When I first joined the group, I was heartened to discover many like-minded women (and men) who wanted to create political community in a swing state. I had felt so alone in this crazy state. I needed to feel part of something bigger, even if it was virtual. Okay, maybe especially because it was virtual.  I am quite happy to stay at home.

I became a moderator for the group's discussion page in late December, and I was overwhelmed.  Uh, I had a LOT to learn. Some of us didn't spring full grown from the head of Zeus.

I had not done political work before, and I had been retired for 3 years. I was "rusty." I was afraid of conflict and confrontation. I was afraid I would be asked to do things I was not comfortable with. I doubted myself. Most of all, I was reluctant to give up a portion of my retirement time.

Because I am a notorious hot-head, I actually quit once, but went back a few weeks later. I have learned a lot about myself while growing into this role. I am thankful for this opportunity to learn and change. I was afraid those days were over. 

If you are content living a quiet life in retirement, I am happy for you (and a bit jealous). Nothing wrong with that! But if you are floundering and/or depressed you might consider seeking a volunteer gig that interests you. Volunteering can give purpose to your life if you are feeling the lack.

It can be as simple as making one phone call a day, or doing spreadsheet work from home for an organization you believe in. Or you could volunteer to go to an animal shelter one afternoon a week to play with the cats and dogs. Whatever floats your boat. The possibilities are endless.

Looking for change

When I was young I fancied myself an artist. After I became a mother, I lost my passion for art. Still, I always thought I would sketch and, perhaps, paint in retirement. So far, I have not.

Then I started working outside the home. I discovered I could be creative in other, non-visual ways. That was an eye opener! I made the most of those years, and I was fulfilled and satisfied in return. I loved working outside the home, and I learned so much about myself in the process.

Quilt design and hand work were my passion for a time. Unfortunately, my last job was a snake pit. I was there for the final 8 years of my work life. It was a problem solver's dream, but it was all consuming and left little energy for personal projects. When I was home I only wanted to rest and recover. I lost interest in quilting. I figured I would get back to it when I retired. Nope, not yet!

In NYS I was an absolute fiend for perennial gardening. Florida is not a perennial gardener's dream. I lowered my gardening expectations. I dabble now for color and ambiance. I am not "really" passionate about gardening in Florida. 

During the 40 years I worked outside the home I was passionate about my job. Work defined me. I am grateful for the jobs, and the people I worked with during those middle years. The role I played became who I was. I eventually lost my passion for the job, too. Then I retired. 

It was harder to retire than I anticipated. I kept thinking I was on vacation and would eventually go back to work. I came to realize this was no vacation; this was my life. Doing nothing became tedious. However, I did NOT want to go out and find a job. I needed to reinvent myself.

Now I write here. I also started contributing to a new feminist blog collective (more on that another time). I continue to moderate for a large, political Facebook group which is part of the great political awakening of women in the U.S. since that unfortunate election. Becoming politically involved has been a game changer for me in retirement.

We moved to Florida to become a meaningful part of our grandchildren's lives. We gave up home, jobs, gardens, and friends to move to a wild swing state filled with alligators and bugs. I find grand parenting immensely satisfying. I also find myself loving Florida. It has all been worth the sacrifices.

Reinventing myself is fun. As long as I am lucky enough to wake up each morning, I have time and plenty of it. I still imagine one day I will thread the damn sewing machine, or sketch a still life. 

Let's go out in full glory, okay?

The Big Payoff

It wasn't like I was ever going to have what some people refer to as "a life's work." I spent my adult life working jobs I was only remotely interested in. I made the best of it. I tried to do a good job and I opened myself to the work, whatever that happened to be. Consequently, I also enjoyed myself, probably more than I should have... why not?  I am proud of that, but I knew I was just a cog in that rusty old wheel. It is what it is and it seems the challenge is to accept reality and still find a way to be happy. Or, perhaps the reality is that you have to accept the challenge?

One of the things I appreciate about retirement is that I am able to focus for more than a few seconds on "things." Now if I read a book I can actually think about plot, character development, and nuance. I am once again aware of symbolism. I can even read a poem all the way through and decipher meaning. There were a few stressful years toward the end of my work life when I could not even read the damn newspaper. 

This is what it is like for us regular folks. We endure. We make the best of it for ourselves, our families, our future. We keep our heads above water for as long as we can. Then, if we are lucky, we retire.

A rusted wheel on a bridge overlooking Lake Apopka, still doing its job

Rise and Shine

I have become a morning person. I did not see that coming. In my working years I always woke up early, at 6:10 a.m. to be exact. I did not like getting up early in those days. Perhaps it was because I HAD to get up. I resented having to follow an established schedule. Still, it was the way of the world and I did it for many years. I was happy to have the job, the work, the money, the people who filled my life.

Now I am retired and I still wake up about 6:10 a.m. Now it is my choice to either rise and shine or to turn over and go back to sleep. Rarely do I choose the latter. NEWS FLASH: Early morning is a great pleasure. Who knew?

Sometimes I stay in bed for awhile, awake. When luxuriating in bed is meditative and relaxing it is a lovely way to start the morning. Unfortunately, staying in bed can also become an anxiety fest.  Then it is best to get up and start the day. There are things to do. Buddy the Cat wants to be fed, coffee needs to be made, and the computer wants to be started up. Flowers and vegetable plants must be inspected for overnight growth. More often than not T has already fed the cat and started the coffee. Then I stumble around, looking a sight and trying to find my bearings. No rush, no hurry. I can slowly find my way.

A frog, taking her own sweet time

Years and Years

The first year I could NOT wipe the smile off my face. Retirement was bliss. I never really thought about the job I left, except with immense relief for having escaped it. Year one was about selling our house, downsizing our possessions, packing, moving, buying a new house, and learning, learning, learning about new roles, climate, and environment. That first year I was busy organizing and controlling change.

The second year I had to figure out how to fill each unstructured, sun-filled, relentlessly available day on my own initiative. We bought bikes. After 37 years of working like a son-of-a-gun for others on an institutional schedule, that "personal initiative" thing was much harder than you might think! The second year I was preoccupied with figuring out how to live my new life.

I am half way through my third year of retirement and once again I am finding it quite different than the first two years. This year seems to be more personal, more about redefining myself. So far, so good. 

I wonder if this is just going to go on and on, dividing retirement into distinct years of adjustment. You know, "Year 5 was about finally learning how to use the remote control," "Year 10 was about learning to keep my mouth shut when certain family members talked politics" or "Year 25 was about learning how to get the aide's attention so she'd push my wheelchair down to the dining hall?"   

T at the overlook, Oakland Wildlife Preserve, Lake Apopka, Central Florida

Through the glass, darkly

An old comrade-at-arms is retiring on Tax Day (April 15) and I have been busy this week putting together a photo album to honor his many years as a manager at the university. We served together on scads of college committees, tried to organize the other university academic unit managers into a cohesive group at least twice, challenged authority as if we were Jedi Knights, and generally tried to make things better. It was fun going through old pictures and thinking about those days. 

I was always a fiend for pictures. I feverishly documented every job-related person, place, and thing. I was the one taking photos instead of socializing at parties. I organized my photos in a variety of ways. I know everyone's names dating back a million years not because I have a good memory, but because I wrote it on the back of a photo, or named the e-photo with the person's name. I am also the go-to person when someone dies or retires and a photo board needs to be created. And yes, everything is dated. A fiend, I tell you...

I suppose I spent all that time taking pictures to distract myself. Back then I was all about doing and not a bit about feeling. Staging and taking pictures was the perfect means to avoid my internal life. With camera in hand you experience the moment externally, through a lens. I was capturing the moment and saving it for later, when I would have the time and energy to feel deeply.

Looking at all the old pictures of co-workers, campus buildings, off-campus eating establishments, parking lots, and walkways this past week was also bittersweet. Although it was fun, it has been a little painful. I am surprised.

I wonder, why? Why would I be surprised?  

 

Bon Voyage!

When you work for a large organization you are expected to fit in. After a number of years of putting on your game face every workday morning you become accustomed to being less of an individual. It starts to feel normal being one of many, of being part of a team. Individuality can be problematic in the workplace. Sometimes I felt being "professional" actually meant being generic.

It took a while, but eventually I surrendered to my place in the larger scheme of things. I settled into a job skill that seemed creative to me.  I made it work.

I am not complaining. I enjoyed working and I was happy to be part of something bigger than myself. However, I am relieved to be done with that part of my life. I enjoy being retired. I can finally be myself everyday, all the time. That is a big change from being a worker bee.

I love the character “Seven of Nine” from Star Trek’s Voyager. Voyager ran for 7 seasons, but the first three were a bit clunky. Seven of Nine was introduced in season 4, and absolutely "made" the series from then on.

As a young child she and her human family had been forcibly and physically assimilated into the Borg, an alien cybernetic society representing the ultimate workforce collective: The Hive Mind.

The Borg Collective organized their technologically enhanced workforce into teams of 9 "drones." Borg do not have individuality or names, but her team designation was Seven of Nine. Eventually the all-too-human crew of the Starship Voyager captured her and liberated her from the collective.

Before liberation she was the perfect employee, absolutely without individual will or personal reflection. The Borg Collective was a monster of efficiency! The post-liberation Seven of Nine struggled to rediscover what it meant to be human, what it meant to think or act as an individual. Seven did not always approve of the lack of efficiency that arose when one acted alone, but she was intrigued by humanity. She thought she would give individuality a try.

A dear friend of mine retired last Friday. Yesterday was the first scheduled workday she did not get up and go to work outside her home. I just asked her how she was doing and she said she felt "undefined."  That is the perfect word to describe the early days/months/years of retirement: undefined.  After years of being part of a complex collective effort what are we when we stand alone?

If her experience of retirement is like mine, it will seem like vacation for a while. Retirement isn't a vacation, though. There is still work to be done. You need to redefine yourself, not as part of an organization but as an individual.

An look inside the Apollo 14 Command Module at the Kennedy Space Center on Merritt Island, Florida

A Winning Personality

I have been sorting through my failures and taking inventory of my limitations now that I have the time in retirement to tackle all this self-indulgent nonsense.  I must say it is a thankless job and it is taking a whole lot longer than I thought it would. 

I guess one of my problems is I like to win.  I am trying to figure out if this is a character flaw or a virtue.  Actually, I quite like that part of myself.  I think I will keep that.

Why am I subjecting myself to this torture?  For one thing, I am trying to learn how to become more comfortable with failure because failure is often the fertilizer for new ideas. A new idea or two wouldn't kill me.

I am also trying to get to know myself at 64.  I am probably not too old to change.  If I find some qualities I really cannot stand I might try to change myself.  A little.  Just a little bit.  Yes, it is that damn change thing again!  Now I suppose I am too comfortable with change and will become addicted to it.  Sheesh.

I am pretty clear on how we gain knowledge.  Wisdom, of course, is something else. I am not exactly sure just what wisdom is or how you become wise.  If I figure it out, I will let you know.  Or perhaps you will tell me?  Either way is fine with me.

Breaking the Sound Barrier

On Tuesday my husband had a dental appointment in Orlando.  I love that man like you would not believe; however, I am rarely in the house all by myself for an extended period of time and I was thrilled to have a few hours alone.  An unavoidable loss of privacy occurs when two people living in the same house do not work outside the home.  This has been an unexpected retirement challenge for me.

T and I have always had separate home offices in our 2 extra bedrooms.  Throughout our long marriage, we spent most of each day apart.  Our jobs were private spaces where we spent a huge part of most days.  At home on the weekends we had no problem amusing ourselves with private hobbies and interests.  We have been together for over 44 years.  We give each other a lot of space.  It works for us. 

I assumed our private lives would continue in retirement.  Theoretically, the only thing that would change is that we would now spend most of our time in the house.  In fact, we still have our separate offices.  We still spend most of the day happily pursuing our own hobbies and interests, but it seems less private now.  Why?  Well, I think in moving to Central Florida we inadvertently broke the sound barrier.

Our old house in Upstate New York had 2 stories.  His office was upstairs and mine was downstairs.  The ceiling/floor between us provided a natural sound barrier.  I used to joke that he had the upstairs and I had the downstairs and that was the secret to a long and happy marriage. 

Now we live in a small house with high ceilings, all on one floor.  The master bedroom is on one side of the house.  The dining room, living room, kitchen are in the middle.  The two extra bedrooms serving as our private spaces are on the other end.  The doors of these two rooms mercilessly face each other, separated only by a short hallway leading into the bathroom that lies between us.  I was prepared for seeing him more often when we retired, but it had simply never occurred to me that we would hear each other so much.

I now find myself reluctant to make noise because I do not want to disturb my husband.  He is usually playing his guitar, so I worry that any music I play will interfere with his concentration.  This is not something he has complained about or even mentioned, it is me overthinking.  Anticipating problems is my forte.  Big smile!

Think about it.  We cannot even talk on the phone in our rooms without hearing each other.  It seems kind of rude, but I find myself going outside the house to talk on the phone.  I am not used to being overheard as I talk to friends or family.  It is a bit disconcerting, even though logically I know T is not the kind of person who is interested in other people's conversations.  I suspect he doesn't even listen to our conversations!

So what did I do in the hours T was at the dentist and I was home alone? Well, I have 4,127 songs on my computer.  I swear I have not listened to one of them since I moved into this house, well over a year ago. I guess I have been overwhelmed by change and frozen in place.  It happens!

I clicked on iTunes and played Al Green, Amy Winehouse, and the Pogues at full blast.  I listened to Joey Ramone sing about Sheena being a punk rocker until I started to feel a little foolish listening to the Ramones...  I discovered I actually have some Taylor Swift songs.  I do not think I have ever listened to them.  I did not listen to them then, either.  I was moved, as always, by the mystical Van Morrison.  I reveled in the intensity of my girl, Carlene Carter, as she sang Stronger.  I listened to the young Sandi Shaw singing Girl Don't Come.  Moby Grape thrilled me with their glorious vocals and male angst on Bitter Wind, but I had to switch to another song before they segued into the psychedelic reverse.  Been there, done that.  I am too old to sit through that abrasive noise and pretend I like it.

I remembered that I went on a music buying frenzy in the years before I retired, buying up as many of the new generation of female British soul singers as I could find.  I need to get back to those young women, they are waiting to be heard. 

I ate Doritos and a fudge brownie even though I was not hungry.  I drank coffee until I shook.  I did NOT do any laundry.  I ran wild in an old lady kind of a way.  It was really fun.

It took some doing, because I still do not know where all my stuff is, but I searched the remaining unpacked boxes in my room until I found my iPod and ear buds.  I hate listening to music like that, but I need music in my life.  More change, yuck!  But hey, problem solved!

Another obvious solution to the privacy dilemma is to do something I have always tried to avoid, both in my personal and in my professional life.  I think I need to shut the door to my office.  Why does that seem like such a hard thing to do?

Retirement: Should you retire?

A few people have asked me in recent months if I thought they should retire.  I answered each one differently, because there is no single answer to that question.  It depends on the person and their situation.  In the process of thinking about this, 7 great universal truths emerged that I am compelled to share, somewhat irreverently, with the world:

1.  Are you sure this is what YOU want?

I retired at 62, almost two years ago.  My husband, T, knew I hated my job.  He saw the toll it took on me.  That job was stressful and truly hateful.  I was physically and emotionally burnt-out on even the best days.  He wanted me to retire for a long time before I actually did.  Many times during those last years he would send me off to the office with the retort, “Don’t forget to retire today!”  That was funny at least a couple of times. 

He was afraid I would get sick, occupational stress being a proven fertilizer for many major illnesses in this modern world.  Which brings me to the following very important disclaimer:  if you have a major and/or life threatening illness, ignore this entire post and find the best way to stop working as soon as possible so you can devote your energies to healing. 

OK, now back to the irreverent stuff.  I loved T for caring so much about me. I wanted to make him happy.  I wanted him to stop worrying about me.   I shared his concerns and I thought he was right; but when to retire had to be MY decision.  Ultimately, I waited longer than he liked because, well, retirement is a big honkin’ decision!  If I had not made the decision myself, I would have resented him on those odd days, and there are always going to be those odd days, when I get bored with retirement.  It seemed best to behave like a grown up and make my own decision so that he would be free of my childish blame game.  Yes, I play that game more often than I would like to admit.

When I finally made the decision to retire, I was absolutely, positively sure. The skies opened, angels blew their celestial horns, and lightening struck a few times.  I am not sure that will happen to everyone, though.  I wrote about this in a previous post.

I am glad I stopped working because retirement changed my life for the better. I like being retired, and so do most of my retired friends and family members.  I know a few people who deeply regret having retired and I feel bad for them.  It is a tricky situation.  A person needs to think hard before making this decision.  Changes will ensue. Best to know what to expect in advance.

2.  Are you prepared to do nothing?

“Retirement” always sounds great when you are overworked and under-appreciated.  At about 50 you start thinking of retirement as your next career goal.  You talk about it, joke about it, plan for it, and wonder how soon you will actually be able to do it.  Before I stopped working I had this mental image of the retired me as a thinner, taller, and grayer version of myself running off screaming into the night.  Kind of like the banshee in Darby O'Gill and the Little People.

But seriously, you need to understand and prepare yourself for this thing called retirement. You are not switching jobs or taking time off if you choose to “retire.” It is also not a vacation, although it will definitely seem like the best vacation EVER until napping in the afternoon and staying up past midnight starts to seem like an entitlement.  It is the vacation that never ends.  Your life will never go back to pre-retirement “normal.”  R&R becomes the new normal.  Think you can handle that?  Dig deep before you answer.

For example, today the bug guy came to spray the house and pool area.  It's a Florida thang.  He comes quarterly and he is a super nice guy.  When he sat down to write out the invoice he paused, looked at us in pure wonderment and asked how things were going.  T was lying on the couch playing around with his iPad and I was nestled into the easy chair reading a book.  Mr. Bug Guy joked a little and said he could not help but notice how peaceful our house and lives seemed, was it always like that?  I said “YES.  This is retirement.”  He laughed, clearly not knowing what to think.  I will admit at that very moment I felt a little guilty.  Not for being retired, we most certainly earned the right.  However, I try not to talk about how great retirement is to working people. It is like bragging about your wonderful husband to a friend who is married to a creep.

Keep in mind that in retirement you are ending your working-outside-the-home, achievement focused, on the way up, kicking ass, big money earning years. Suddenly life is no longer about productivity.  At all.  There is no longer anything to prove and nobody to prove it to.

When you worked you had to be ready for anything.  In retirement you must be ready for nothing.  THAT takes some getting used to...  I am not kidding.  It really does.  At first you keep thinking you should do something productive.  But eventually you come to realize that you do not have to do anything at all.  You only have to do something if you want to.  As corny and trite as it sounds, that is the absolute best part of retirement, that “only if you want to” thing. It is pure magic.

3.  Retirement requires personal initiative.

You also have to reinvent your self as a fully functioning and personally satisfied retired person on your own.  You must become self-motivated; consider the horror!  I am kind of bad at this one, so I really do not want to dwell on it...

4. Do you have enough money?

First and foremost you need to make sure you have enough money saved/invested to provide you with a comfortable income until you are about 1,000 years old.  Then you have to hope China doesn’t gut the world economy with dramatic stock market declines.  You also want to have good health insurance with prescription drug coverage, especially if you are retiring before you are old enough to qualify for Medicare.  Medicare does not pay for everything, so if you are lucky enough to retire with health insurance, for crying out loud keep it!  If you are in a position to afford long term care insurance premiums you probably want to continue that policy into retirement, too. 

5. You WILL lose your work identity.

It is not just about having enough money to retire, although that is the most critical concern.  Retirement is a total lifestyle change.  When you stop working you lose your workplace identity, giving up a role that defined you for most of your adult life.  Be clear on that. 

Chances are you were valued in the workplace.  People knew what you are capable of.  When you retire, that role, that identity is left at the workhouse door.  It does not come home with you.  Your employers do not retire your jersey, they replace you ASAP.  Afterwards, very few people will know what you are capable of, even fewer will care.  Can you stand it?  Be honest with yourself. 

6.  Can you "really" get another job if you change your mind?

If you retire in your 60's and then decide to go back to work or get a part-time job to supplement your retirement income, chances are your time will no longer be worth as much as it used to be IF you can even find someone willing to hire you. There are lots of ageist assumptions going on out there in the workplace. Young people think we are stupid and they are afraid of our mortality.  I know this because I used to be a young person.  I know how they think.

7.  Can you do less with less?

Last but not least, your discretionary income will be reduced.  One friend specifically asked me about this one, and I felt kind of bad telling him the truth.  But I did.  There are luxuries that you will have to give up or find cheaper alternatives for, even though you formerly did not think of them as luxuries.  This is different for everyone.  I stopped getting my hair cut on a regular basis.  I let my hair grow long and now just pull it up in back with a clip.  I see no reason to spend the money to keep getting it cut and styled.  I only buy new clothes if I have to go to a wedding or a funeral, and then I shop the sales.  I go to the library now instead of buying books.  I do my grocery shopping at Publix instead of Whole Foods. On New Year's Eve I buy prosecco instead of champagne.  You get the gist? Personally, I would rather have less discretionary income than have to get up every morning at 6 a.m. and get ready for work.  I am SO over that.  It is all about who you are and what you want. 

What I am trying to say is, retirement can turn your well ordered, predictable, safe and manageable world upside down.  Retirement giveth and retirement taketh away.  It involves many changes, so you really need to be sure you can live with those changes before you sign on the dotted line.  I am not just whistling Dixie. 

If you are healthy, happy and still feel passionate about your job then you probably should not retire.  However, if you are completely over the work-a-day world, feel the thrill is gone from your chosen career, know you can stomach all the losses alluded to above, are able to nap without guilt, can motivate and amuse yourself every damn day for the rest of your life, all on a restricted budget then I think you are a good candidate for retirement.  You will love it.  Cheers!