Tomorrow marks a full week since I retired from gainful employment. Instead of getting up Monday morning at 4:30, going through my morning routine, and then heading off to work, I did everything except head to work. I didn’t walk out my back door and get in the car. I walked out my front door and sat on the porch. “What the hell did I do, and can I take it back?” I thought.
Saying I retired is not technically accurate. Being only 60, I’m not eligible to collect retirement benefits. But, calling myself an “old broad who just up and quit her job” doesn’t sound as noble and takes too long to say. So, we will go with “retired.”
Tomorrow is also my birthday. I will be 61 when the clock strikes midnight. The approach of my birthday is strange this time around. It is close to a non-event. I don’t look forward to it; there will be no party, there will be no trip, but I suspect my Aunt Donna’s birthday card will be in the mailbox right on schedule and it always makes me smile. But neither do I dread the day; adding one more year to the 60 behind it doesn’t make me anxious or stab me in the vanity plate. It simply doesn’t matter.
If we had asked a financial advisor about my retiring, he probably would have said it was a bad idea. But that guy makes money from my money, so he’s hardly unbiased.
My friends were 100% in favor, family 99% in favor, and me – well, depends on the day. I’ve always worked. I came from a family that always worked. Work has always been a way to define myself, and how my value was assessed. Not just work, but HARD work was very important in my upbringing. I never heard “work smarter, not harder,” until I was in perimenopause.
I’ve always had high stress jobs, there were the law firms, then I co-owned a business with my sister, then another law firm and a credit union. I worked them all giving 100% of me, I ate with them, slept with them, dreamed about them, and took them on vacation with me. Oddly enough, my final job was different. It didn’t define me. I didn’t dream about it. Nobody from the office called me during dinner or while I visited grandchildren. When I left at 5:00 p.m., I rarely thought about it again until I arrived the next morning. My boss and my colleagues were all great people who also had families and lives outside the office. I didn’t leave that job inasmuch as I returned home for good.
So, here I am with one hand on 60, the other on 61, no job, no income and no ability to predict how it will all turn out. I should be terrified, but I’m not. I have the one thing that matters and that is full backing from Charles. It was Charles who pushed this idea in the first place. I remember the first time he brought it up. I told him I was concerned that losing my income would put our financial situation in jeopardy. He said, “remember what I said in my wedding vows to you … I’ll always have your back.” And he does. Always.
Of course, the 500-pound gorilla in the room driving all this is the question of my mortality. I spend a great deal of time in doctors’ offices, I take a ridiculous amount of medication, and everything I eat is judged on its nutritional value instead of flavor. My Daddy worked up to just a few days prior to his death (which included a weekend). That grieved me so much that he felt he had to work until he died, and I vowed I would not be that way. I do want to enjoy my life before it is over.
While it is true that nobody knows exactly when they will die, whether it will be from natural causes or the bus that seems to have it in for us all, 12 years ago a doctor said to me, “be a good a girl, take your medicine, and you might just live another 5 years.” That advice was given after a couple of near fatal water incidents and Jesus making an appearance in my hospital room. So, I guess I have to count each day since 2018 as gravy. I like gravy.
One of the things I had planned to do with my newly acquired 10 extra hours of the day was garden. But the weather didn’t cooperate most of the week. I did manage to plant the climbing rosebush (gifted to me from my former coworkers) and erect the arch I expect it to climb. I put seven more raspberry plants in the ground. I took the roses from my retirement bouquet and put them in a rooting medium. Although I had thought I would schedule each moment and activity exactly so as to make the most out of my time as possible, the truth is that first day I didn’t get much done. Then the nasty weather arrived and being outside was impossible.
Tomorrow looks like it will be sunny and mild. Maybe last week was just a Universe-scheduled decompression period; a transitional time for me to say goodbye to the work force me and hello to the old broad with dirt up to her elbows. I really look forward to getting to know her.
