Feb 29 2024

Living Outside The Lines

As very young children we were probably all taught to color within the lines.  According to my granddaughter, who’s about to graduate with a degree in education, coloring inside the lines is taught so that children develop their fine motor skills and learn to focus.  The kid coloring outside the lines may be creative or just plain obstinate about following the rules.  To ensure that creativity is also developed and the obstinate child gets to express their emotions in a healthy way, free hand drawing is also incorporated.

How many of us, though, never deviated from coloring inside the lines, living our lives solely within the lines of society’s rules?  Living outside the lines is generally frowned upon, judged, criticized, thought to be weird or all of the above.  I can’t image Jackson Pollack ever coloring inside the lines.  Then, there’s Picasso who, although he colored inside the lines, gave new meaning to the shapes of the lines deviating from our normal expectation of what people and animals look like.  And, let us not forget Georgia O’Keefe whose bold renditions of nature and blurring of the lines stunned the world.  Ahhhh artists.  But, most of us live our lives following the rules.  Of course, in order for society to function we have to follow certain rules.  Otherwise, life would be a chaotic mess and it’s messy enough as it is. 

A child-like rendition of coloring outside the lines

Retirement, however, affords a second chance at flexing our creative muscle, doing something unexpected, advocating for a cause or just being our authentic selves.  After all, hopefully we developed those fine motor skills and the ability to focus a long, long time ago, played life by the rules and now we can stretch the boundaries.  As I’ve aged caring about what anyone thinks of what I’m doing or saying or wearing has disappeared from my thinking.  I gave up worrying about making mistakes years ago and learned to embrace them as life lessons.  One life lesson was learning that the people who often criticize or judge are sometimes the ones afraid to even try.  Fearful of leaving that all too cozy comfort zone, they shy away from living outside the lines.

One of my favorite sayings is by former First Lady and activist Eleanor Roosevelt, who certainly lived her life both within the bounds of her position in society while at once changing the lines around that position.  She said, “Do what you feel in your heart to be right, for you’ll be criticized anyway.”  And, she was.  Though long dead, she is still.  I’ve met people who believe to this day that she was a communist because she denounced Senator Joseph McCarthy during his Red Scare of the early 1950’s.  In 1953 she also said, “No one wants real Communists let loose, but that is the work of the FBI and they did it…very satisfactorily without endangering the reputation of innocent people.”  She lived by the rules only to a certain extent advocating for a free society and equal rights.

Oftentimes we convince ourselves that we can’t do something.  While most people cheer me on, I’ve had others question my building a house at age 71 or building it in a country setting or going to Italy without a companion.  Their questioning always, always includes the phrase, “I could never do that.”  When I hear them voicing their self-imposed limitation, I always think of Henry Ford and the creation of the V-8 engine.  Told by every one of his engineers the V-8 was impossible, Ford  insisted they build it anyway.  He once famously said, “If you think you can do a thing or think you can’t do a thing, you’re right.”

While some people live their entire lives outside the lines and accomplish extraordinary things, most of us continue doing what we learned in first grade.  We live inside the lines just as we colored inside the lines.  Retirement is a game changer.  While we may not become a famous artist or advocate or entrepreneur, we can live the remainder of our lives outside the lines by doing the following:

1.  Listen to your gut.  It’s been said that our gut is the second brain.  Or listen to your heart, which sends more signals to your brain than the other way around.  Whatever you use to accomplish this, drill down deep within your soul and dredge up your true needs, wishes and wants.  What is it that you would like to do before you die?  Paint the town red if that’s what you want or at least the living room.  To me, living outside the lines means being true to yourself.  

2.  Stop listening to what others want you to do or think or believe.  I’ve heard so many people say their son, daughter, siblings, friends or even a parent thinks they shouldn’t or should do this or that.  We’ve all heard the lines, “I don’t think that’s a good idea” or “I don’t think that’s in your best interest” or “If it were me, I’d do ________.”  It’s not their life or their position to tell you how to live your life.  If you want to do it, pretend you’re Nike and “Just Do It!”

3.  Dispose of the self-imposed limitations such as telling yourself you’re too old to do whatever it is you want to do.  There are men and women in my gentle yoga class in their mid to late 80’s.  Some come in using a cane.  They do what they can, but they are doing it.  The limitation is what their aging body will allow not their minds telling them they can’t do any of it.  

4.  Ditch the guilt!  This was a tough one for me because I was raised on guilt.  Independent thinking was not family approved.  So, even though I lived my life relatively independently, the gray fog of guilt occasionally drifts in as an attempt to  sabotage my plans.  Being conscious of this fact and where it comes from helps to forge my own path and leave the guilt behind.  What am I talking about?  Recently, a woman told me she felt guilty doing something because her daughter disapproved and she didn’t want to hurt her daughter’s feelings.  Refer to number 2 above.

I’m going to leave you with one more quote from yet another famous person. Albert Einstein once said: “Live life to the fullest. You have to color outside the lines once in a while if you want to make your life a masterpiece. Laugh some every day, keep growing, keep dreaming, keep following your heart.”  If you’re not living outside the lines, start.  If you are living outside the lines, keep on doing it!

Copyright © 2024 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Jan 30 2024

A Gift

Recently, a long time follower gifted me with a book.  Knowing I was widowed in 2022, she messaged me and asked if she could send me Hope For Widows – Reflections on Mourning, Living, and Change by Marilyn Nutter.  Having read several books on loss, mourning and starting anew, although I was firmly planted in the starting over phase of my journey, I was interested in reading this book, not only for me, but for others going through a similar experience.  Starting over is hard.  Any nugget of information to help along the way is much appreciated.

As it turns out, I wish I had this book many years ago when I was grappling with anticipatory grief.  Marilyn Nutter had a very different experience than mine, becoming a widow unexpectedly while she and her husband, Randy were 3,000 miles from home and just two days prior to Christmas.  Conversely, I had years to grieve and mourn the anticipated loss of my husband, Martin.  I had plenty of time to plan and prepare and I certainly wasn’t thousands of miles from home during a major holiday when he ascended.  That alone must have added to the trauma of losing her spouse.  On the other hand, I had time to reflect upon this deeply felt loss.  I had time to rage against the disease.  I had time to journal my thoughts and feelings. I had time to make peace with the universe. I had time to accept the situation.  I had time to decide what my life would look like without him.  Time.  Time that many widows or widowers do not have. Yet, I found this book helpful with the insights and comfort Nutter offers.

While the book is sixty-five chapters, each is more like a vignette of only two or three pages, followed by what Nutter deems “Treasured Reflections”, where she offers up ideas to ponder and “Treasured Thoughts”, which the reader might journal as a means of recognizing their personal rumination on the subject.  In this, there is a type of self-help aspect to the book.  Perhaps the most prescient chapter to me is Chapter 10 “His Work Isn’t Finished”.  Here, Nutter’s pastor provides a vision contrary to what I and many think of as the deceased’s life being over, finished, done.  

Martin’s work is still here in my life, the lives of our family and his co-workers and friends.  For me, he’s here in the everyday reminders from our furniture we chose together to the recipes we enjoyed cooking as a couple to his art and photos. During the last few years of his life, he produced hundreds of paintings, so many so that after choosing the ones I wanted to keep and some, which family and friends chose, I donated the remainder to Good Will.  Towards the end his paintings became more child-like, almost all of them featuring animals coupled with whimsy.  When I donated his works, I thought about how great they would look in a child’s room.  I hope that’s where they landed to add cheer to another’s life. Our grandchildren share his artistic bent as well as his athleticism.  Former employees have reminisced about what an influence he was on their careers.  A former supervisor told me in tears how he thought Martin could do anything.  Yes, he lives on in so many ways in so many lives.  This thought brings a much needed warmth and comfort to my soul.

There are other passages, which struck a cord such as the ones where grief is not wholly recognized in our society, but something where we shouldn’t cry in public (we should cry whenever we need to) or the mental, emotional and even physical manifestations of grief.  These chapters would have certainly aided me during my years of anticipatory grief to know that what I was experiencing is not unusual.  So, I thank Renee for the gift.  And, since some of you have expressed how you are going through or anticipate loss, I’m passing this on to anyone who may need some encouragement and hope for a brighter tomorrow.  

Copyright © 2024 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Jan 15 2024

OLD!

A few months ago I went to my bank, something I rarely do in this world of banking apps and cash back at almost every retailer.  As I waited in line for my turn the woman in front of me struck up a conversation with the branch manager who was behind the teller counter attending to some unseen task.  The woman and branch manager apparently knew each other as they chatted easily about mutual acquaintances and activities.  

Everything was genial until she asked, “How’s your grandmother?”

The branch manager stopped what he was doing, straightened up, looked out into the lobby as he emphatically announced, “Old!”

The woman didn’t respond as her smiling face sunk into a bewildered expression, her eyes nervously darting around the lobby.  I felt she was as stunned by his response as I was.  Without another word he went back to what he was doing.

During the previous several months I had had a couple of ageist encounters with this early thirties something man.  Had he looked past the woman at me as he made what I thought was a disrespectful response, both for his grandmother and his acquaintance customer?  Or was I just imagining? 

Not so sure I should let this pass without a word, I, too, looked around at the young faces behind the teller counter, at the personal banker in the glass cubicle chatting with a customer.  They were all young twenty, thirty somethings.  The branch manager was the standard bearer for how to treat customers with respect and dignity.  He was their leader, their guide from whom they took their cues.  Since the previous manager was promoted to a higher level, which came as no surprise to me, I had noticed a change in the culture of this branch.  Weighing the larger consequence of not saying anything about the incident, I was now sure I would say something and to whom I would say it.  But, more on that later.

In recent weeks I’ve encountered a number of women speaking up about ageism in our society.  During the last year I’ve become more conscious of ageism, mainly in the medical and health insurance fields as well as the experiences at my bank and a few stores.  I’d like to know what you have experienced, if anything.  One woman told me the ageism in the US is ‘shocking’.  Is it that way across the country? Is it that way in other countries?  Several others have chimed in about how going grey was met with being called ‘old’ or ‘elderly’ followed by ‘dear’ and ‘sweetie’.  One woman even decided to start dyeing her hair again.  Not me.  I’d rather raise someone’s consciousness by speaking up about it.  There’s nothing wrong with a little silver protest.

According to the National Institute on Health (one of my favorite resources) “rising prejudices have spread concerning the elderly, who are seen as hindering productivity and social dynamism. Stereotypes about aging, beyond influencing behavior and ways of managing the care of elderly populations, can also impact personal experiences of aging.”  The simple fact of the baby boomer demographics makes our aging population larger than the generations, which followed.  What’s more, ageism influences our self-perceptions as well as our physical and mental health leading to such negative experiences like depression and isolation, which in turn translates into a shortened life span with a lower quality of life.

I have no doubt we live in a youth culture.  Personally, I’m anti-anti-aging.  All the ads by companies selling anti-aging products are laughingly, for the most part, using women at least 40 years younger than me to show ‘results’.  It’s as if aging is a disease, which we have to keep at bay for as long as we can with creams, lotions, dyes, supplements, makeup, botox and even plastic surgery.  Equally as pervasive is the vitamins and supplements industry raking in a hefty $150 billion per year globally.  The US makes up nearly one third of that number.  Age cannot be staved off forever, so we may as well accept that fact and enjoy life without going under the knife and getting our vitamins from healthy foods.  

Do I use creams and lotions?  Of course I do.  Who wants dry skin?  My objective is to feel the best I can without being obsessed with my body and looks to the point of trying to hide my age.  At 71 I’m comfortable in my own skin and love my grey hair.  I stopped coloring my hair somewhere around 12 years ago.  It was so freeing I’ve never thought about hair dyes again.  

But, the real issue is the devaluing of aging people due to accepted social norms centered around looking youthful, acting useful and contributing to society through a job.  According to the NIH, “the most complete definition [of ageism] has been offered by [researchers] Iversen, Larsen, and Solem, who, after a review and analysis of all the definitions given over the years, defined ageism as “negative or positive stereotypes, prejudice and/or discrimination against (or to the advantage of) elderly people on the basis of their chronological age or on the basis of a perception of them as being ‘old’ or ‘elderly’.” 

While visiting Italy I noticed a difference in the way I and my fellow aging travelers were treated.  It was with a graciousness and respect that was palpable in transactions at stores, meals in restaurants and just strolling down the street.  I believe the stereotyping of aging in Italy is a positive stereotyping where “respect your elders” is ingrained in the fabric of their social norms.  

I remember touring a villa where certain spaces were roped off.  The very young woman serving as monitor wore dark goth makeup, spiked black and maroon hair, black army boots, pants and pea coat along with a deadpan expression.  Visually scary.  No one was going to touch a thing or cross a barrier with her walking behind us!  Then, I had to make a run to the rest room, which was outside and down a long path on the grounds.  Upon my return she let me in with a stern look.  But, when I went looking for my group to catch up, she motioned to me with a smile, “Come.  I show you short cut.”  With that she led me around a roped barrier, across the living room’s ancient rug I was positive was not to be walked upon, around another barrier and down a hall where I joined my group.  As I turned to thank her she winked and said, “Secret.”  Although with cameras all over the place I don’t think it was a secret.  It was an act of kindness from someone who initially appeared so forbidding.  A reverse lesson in not judging a book by its cover.  I wonder now if the act of kindness was because of my grey hair and wrinkles and the Italian view of aging.

We are at once going through a transformation where aging is not what it once was as people continue to work, remain involved in their communities and are physically active.  Yet, at the same time, much of society views this natural part of life called aging with disdain or perhaps a bit of fear.  After all, following aging to the last is the grime reaper awaiting.  For me exercising, eating a healthy diet, keeping my mind sharp, being involved in my community, having a spiritual practice and engaging with family, friends and my hobbies are the components of healthy aging. That is my anti-aging strategy.

What do we do about the disrespect, the minimizing of our value to society?  I speak up and out about the situations I encounter.  For example, the branch manager.  As mentioned I decided I had to do something about his attitude and comments, not only for the sake of other customers, but for his employees.  Well, I emailed my contact at the bank and expressed my concern and how I had encountered what I believed to be ageism three times over a period of several months.  The CEO and president of the bank asked if it would be ok if the branch manager’s supervisor called me, to which I, of course, agreed.  

I learned that the bank has training about what respect and dignity look like, on discrimination including ageism.  I learned that upper management was sincerely disappointed in the branch manager’s attitude and, as was appropriate, apologized for the ageist treatment.  I haven’t been back because, as noted above, I don’t find it necessary to go to the bank very often.   However, I do hope to see a cultural change on my next visit.  I also hope this young manager views the experience as an opportunity to grow and learn and set a positive example for his staff.  Lastly, I hope he learned that just because someone is “old!” with grey hair and a few wrinkles doesn’t mean they don’t have wisdom,  influence and the power to create change.  

Copyright © 2024 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Dec 31 2023

Creativity, Self-Discovery and Adventure

A year ago I sat at this computer writing about my word of the year (WOTY), a trendy replacement for making New Year resolutions.  Conflicted about which word to choose, I chose all three in the title of this post – creativity, self-discovery and adventure.  I believe I lived up to actually using these words as my guide for 2023.

I thought about no word of the year for 2024.  I never make resolutions, so why was I choosing a word or words to define my path?  Hmmm.  Maybe it’s because the word doesn’t define my path, but rather shines a light upon it to illuminate my journey throughout the coming year.  I spent 2023 focused on renewing my spirit, sorting out emotions and finding my way forward as I learned to fly with only my wings to lift me.  Consequently, I decided a word of the year would help me continue to envision my futurity while I focused on my present.

As I began building my house the structure became a personal symbol of my fresh start in life, a foundation, an anchor for whatever I choose to do.  The idea of having a haven from which to augment what I’ve built during 2023 led me to realize my purpose is to continue building upon this foundation. There will be more creativity, self-discovery and adventure to come as I craft, add onto and develop what I accomplished in 2023.  Build.  That is my word of the year for 2024.  Build.

Building On-A-Whim Cottage

There’s much more to build than my house.  I began re-building my blog, which is a challenge in itself.  After years of neglect in favor of my caregiving duties and subsequent emotional recovery, I’m beyond rusty at finding my way around the WordPress platform.  Some of you may have noticed a weird post of just my picture.  As I grappled with uploading a new photo to my media files and Gravatar using my phone, my fat fingers touched the icon for publishing the photo as a post.  And in a nano second…yikes!!  I immediately deleted the post, but not before it went out to all of you.  I even received a couple of comments telling me what a great photo it is.  Thank you.  As always life includes challenges, snafus and missteps.  But, that’s the fun in learning and the lure of creating.

Another example of building is my beloved hobby of gardening.  My property currently looks like a mud pit as we’ve had rain, rain and more rain.  My plan to seed wildflowers after two hard frosts was sidelined as warm temperatures, at least warm for Michigan, hovered from the high 30’s to the almost unheard of December temp of 61.  That doesn’t mean my head isn’t swimming with plans for the various areas around the house as well as those far afield.  As I draw and collect landscaping plans, I’m grateful for the rainy days where I can sit and sketch and dream.  Nothing makes me happier than building gardens.  And, over time build them I will.

Building upon my social support groups is also a priority for 2024 as I work to expand my toehold of belonging in my new community.  While I’ve made the tentative beginnings of friendships, building a moai or tribe takes time as we get to know each other.  Joining in activities like yoga and book club at the area community center was the boost I needed to meet other residents with similar interests.  Fortunately, there are a few who are also new to the community and as open as I am to forging ties.  Add to that the welcoming spirit of many longtime residents and I’m on my way to building a support group.

As my mind’s eye conjures up a visualization of my imagination, my thoughts overflow with ideas for how I will live my life. I’ve mined the bottomless depths of my spirit, that which exists beyond the body and mind.  Much of this is and will always be a work in progress.  It’s all been an adventure as I turn ideas into reality, examine the heart of my being, make life decisions as a single woman, change my circumstances, visit venues solo and navigate my illuminated path. It’s been both scary and exhilarating as I seek sure-footedness along this never-before-traveled road I’m on.  

On this last day of 2023 I wish you all sure-footedness on a well illuminated path to carry you through 2024.  May your year be filled with peace, joy and love.

Happy New Year! 

Copyright © 2023 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Dec 13 2023

Where Have You Been?

I kicked off the holiday season at Thanksgiving with my family.  In the United States we celebrate on the fourth Thursday in November.  This year I felt especially grateful for my life and those sharing in my journey.  Now, with Christmas less than two weeks away and 2023 drawing to a close, I find myself ruminating daily about what a year it was for me.  Thankfulness for the good and not so good dominates my wondering mind. The not so good unsettled my ideas about life. Family, friends, love and compassion took on greater meaning as I felt humbled by the acceptance of my own mortality.

Of course, this acceptance came from the unrivaled challenge of my life, of my entire life, which was beginning 2023 without Martin.  It was years since he was really with me, yet I felt as if my purpose in life died with him.  I was no longer caregiving him, visiting him, attending to his needs, conversing with doctors, nurses, filling out paperwork, paying his bills.  2023 was my year of mourning as I wrote about my loss, felt his absence and made peace with it all.  Now, as 2024 appears on the horizon, that is  behind me.  

A few weeks ago someone asked me how long I’d been widowed.  My response caused them to say, “But you’re so happy!” 

Yes, I am.  And the reason for that is what I can only call a spiritual awakening.  As I plumbed the tangles of my soul in search of meaning for life and loss, I sometimes questioned if all my endeavors were really just a patch for my grief.  Instead, my meditations led me to realize Martin is with me and always will be, that the universe to which we all belong is filled with the essence of a greater natural being that has immersed us in a world brimming with life, mystery and wonder.  Answers have yet to unfold, but I have faith they are there. 

As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen.”

This realization led me to feel content.  Contentedness leads to happiness.  During 2023 I became braver about living my life.  I became increasingly confident about the path I am on.  I became more aware of the suffering of others and more compassionate, including self-compassion.  I gained greater faith in the unseen.  Lastly, I recognized that in order to truly live, one must accept one’s mortality.

Instead of identifying feelings as negative or positive, I embraced emotions as just emotions that come and go learning to allow my feelings to manifest themselves.  In what may seem contrary to that thought, I began working on being proactive instead of reactive.  I became creative beyond my usual internalized boundaries.  I opened my mind and soul to self-discovery.  I went on adventures of all sorts.  This past year was one of growth, transcendence and lots of new wisdom, which is perhaps the grace in Martin’s death.

There were tumultuous days when I sold my house where not much seemed to be going the way I wanted it to.  But, in the end I got exactly what I wanted.  My faith grew.  Not blind faith, but trust in my abilities.  The decisions were now all up to me, which was scary.  Yet, hadn’t I been making all the decisions on my own for the past few years?  Weren’t most of those decisions good ones?  Acknowledging my self-reliance boosted my confidence.

Speaking of braver I went off to Italy all alone making my way through four airports and three countries.  Frankfurt, Germany was the most challenging. Contrary to my perhaps stereotyped expectations of Germans being highly organized, customs was a chaotic herd of people taking a good hour just to reach the roped off lanes corralling us into order.  I’m not the most patient person in the world, so my already frayed nerves were tested.  I decided if I could weather that nerve-racking process, the rest of the trip would be a piece of cake.  And, it was.  By the time I traversed homeward bound through the Frankfurt Airport I was a more seasoned traveler taking everything in stride. I had experienced the merging of cultures as people from different countries and backgrounds gladly assisted me along the way. That is our real wealth, our real gift as human beings.

As I endeavored to claim my place in the community where I am building my house I entered 2023 continuing my yoga classes. I also joined a book club in January.  Both have led to budding friendships and a feeling of community.  Creating a space following retirement is always part of the challenge as we leave our work identity behind.  Here I was again building a new life in a new community meeting new people.  It was/is daunting. 

Building my house has taken on a symbolic meaning as I build my identity anew, willing people to make space for me. This is how I will enter 2024, building my house, my community, holding dear my family and friends while embracing new ideas, unsettling my past beliefs and growing into new ones.

With that, my dear readers, I ask you what did 2023 bring for you?  Where have you been, what have you done, how have you grown?  And, where are you going in 2024?  

Happy Holidays

Copyright © 2023 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Nov 8 2023

Progress

When I posted about the start of construction on my house, some of you expressed an interest in updates.  So, here is the first update on the progress.  

It’s taken all of two months to complete the permit process, excavation and foundation. That seems like a long time, but no matter what you’re building in life a solid foundation is critical.  Time, careful thought and workmanship are the essential ingredients.  Of course, the government has their fingers in it every step of the way with endless inspections, which delay progress as we wait our turn with other local builds.  Thankfully, no glitches, no re-inspections.  I worked in the building business for a long time.  But this foundation in Michigan with its frigid winters, a slab with much more under the surface, was something I had never encountered in the toasty south.

The long driveway

At this stage it’s not much to look at.  Just a lot of dirt and cement give a hint of what will rise from all this hard work.  Though the site appears to be a barren stretch of soil right now, I have several pounds of wildflowers to seed on the back third of the two acres and among the trees along the roadside.  One of my new neighbors gave me hundreds of milkweed seeds to sow.  A few young cedars already on the property were moved to the very back and I planted a young maple, wrapping it in tree guard and crossing my fingers that the deer won’t find it enticing.  Add to that several junipers I bought during end of season sales and I have a good start towards shaping up the landscaping.

Insulated frost walls four feet below the slab

Friday my builder son-in-law, Travis and I made the trip to Michigan Barn Wood and Salvage in Mason to choose beams for the front and screen porch columns and headers from among stacks and stacks of rescued beams.  Passing a pile of aged barn siding wearing time worn remnants of red and pale blue paints, I stopped.  Travis and the owner, Trevor had already passed by. I called to them.  

Pointing to the stacks I said, “I’m thinking screen porch ceiling.”

Already enthused by the shops deep caverns filled with salvaged remnants of a bygone era, Travis dove into a description of how he would install the boards, which would most certainly add a charming character to the space. 

“How much?” I asked Trevor.  

“$4.00 a square foot” came the reply as he quickly calculated how much I would need and Travis turned the boards looking at both sides. Although the planks were already planed smooth on the opposite side, we agreed the side with the aged pigments was to be the side down on the ceiling.  Character. Yes, I bought them.  And, fawn colored rough hewn beams for the front porch along with greyed beams for the screen porch columns and header.

The slab being poured and leveled over infrared heating, initial plumbing and electric

As our beautiful Michigan autumn progresses toward winter the framing began yesterday with rain spitting from cloud covered skies periodically breaking apart to reveal patches of cool blue with a sparkle of sun.  After yoga class, I used the day to revisit the flooring store and my initial choices just to be sure nothing new and trendy had materialized over the summer.  It hadn’t.  I was still in love with my selections and, thankfully, the prices of last June hadn’t budged. Then, I was off to the lumber supply to choose a roofing color.  Originally thinking of black with the white board and batten siding, after seeing a white farm house with a pale grey roof, I changed my mind.  I chose the palest grey from among the available shades of grey.  Decisions, decisions as we make progress, but, oh, so exciting!

Copyright © 2023 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Oct 17 2023

Remembering Martin

As the one year anniversary of Martin’s death approaches, my heart weighs heavy with sorrow.  It’s been a strange year, one of deep persistent sadness coupled with immutable joy.  I’ve learned that sadness and joy are not mutually exclusive.  They are but two different emotions entwined around my heart in a meandering dance of mourning and moving forward with living. 

Anything on two wheels

Realistically, I know the hurt, the unfairness, especially given his healthy lifestyle, of his disease and death will never leave me.  He loved bicycling and motorcycling, anything on two wheels.  He loved cooking and art.  And, he loved me and our family.  He loved our cats and our home.  He was energetic and creative.  I often woke to a latte and juice being placed on my bedside table as he rose each day before I did.  I miss loving gestures like this one, the soft smile as he brought me these gifts to start my day.

Staining a carved gourd

However, he was also logical, mostly serious, rarely smiling and would want me to be logical about this life change.  As much as I may want to, I can’t recreate the life we had.  That’s impossible for anyone, anywhere experiencing the loss of a loved one.  Life will never be the same.  Nevertheless, life can be joyful, filled with happiness.  For me, it’s okay to be sad, but I can’t stay sad forever.  Emotions come and go whether we’ve experienced a loss or not.  That is the ebb and flow of life.  Acceptance of this searing loss as well as allowing myself to feel the spectrum of emotions provided room for creating my new life, the life I’m now living.

Martin giving Portia some love

Through my struggle with depression and the occasional panic attack, journaling about my emotions became a way to acknowledge and accept my feelings as well as Martin’s death.  Seeking out spiritual, even mystical teachings, centered my thinking about the natural event of passing from this life.  Community involvement and making new friends began with my yoga practice and a class on The Afterlife.  I talked about Martin’s life and death and continue to do so.  I sold the big house, went to Italy for both of us and started building my new house, symbolizing starting anew.

Grieving is personal.  Knowing that, I took a personal approach.  On the many, many days when I found myself incredibly happy, I assuaged any guilt by reminding myself that joy was mine to claim again.  Carving pumpkins last weekend with my grandchildren, walking the streets of Lucca in Tuscany with peace in my heart, watching the ground breaking for my house, awed by a flock of turkeys gathering on the bank behind my apartment, the unusual sighting of a doe with her spotted triplets, receiving my order of wildflower seeds for my property, such is the joy, which is mine. There is no one way to wend our way through the onslaught of emotions.  There is no right way or wrong way, only our way.  There are no good emotions or bad emotions, only emotions. Self-care also gained importance as I sought to heal myself.  Part of that self-care is allowing my emotions to flow as I grow into this life phase. I’m doing a good job of it.  Martin would be proud of me.

I will always feel sadness at his loss. That will never go away even as the memories may fade. There will never be another moment when Martin starts my morning gently setting a latte and juice at my bedside and my opening my eyes to his warm smile, but I know he was here.  He is here. He is loved.  And, he is missed.

Copyright © 2023 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Oct 3 2023

You, Inc.

Somewhere along the zig-zag of my working years, the idea of marketing ones’ self to create your personal brand and get ahead in the workplace arose on the business how-to horizon.  Dubbed ‘You, Inc.’ the concept hinged on the entrepreneurial notion that we are a personal business. Remembering the lessons from my almost going-down-in-flames work experience I shunned the idea only to take it up in retirement, not as personal branding, but as a means of taking care of myself.  I turned the idea into one of self-care instead of self-branding.

Culturally raised to put everyone else’s needs before my own, I was never taught that self-care is not selfish. Nobody ever told me how to truly take care of my needs.  My family raised girls to take care of others, to refill their mental, emotional tank, but no lessons on how to refill our tanks.  And, if ever I put myself first maybe even an ounce of guilt thrown in for good measure.  It took a long time for me to internalize the belief that it is not only O.K. to put my own oxygen mask on first, it is entirely necessary for my well-being. 

Below are some ideas for creating your own You, Inc.

Self-care.  Self-care is a habit of valuing yourself…all the time.  Self-care is a daily exercise, not a once in awhile something you do for yourself.  As a caregiver I learned exactly how important making time for me was to my survival.  In 2017, through the Rosalyn Carter Institute for Caregivers in partnership with the Greenville Healthcare System I was assigned a social worker for a year, free of charge, to ensure my mental, physical, emotional and spiritual health received the attention needed to ensure my well-being.   I met weekly with my social worker, Diana to review my week, what I was doing for me and how it was helping or not helping.  There was also a handbook with exercises designed to create an ever widening circle of activities to support my needs.  The intent, of course, was to reduce my stress and anxiety thereby reducing bodily inflammation in order to maintain my physical health, so that I had the reserves to care for Martin.  This is when I created You, Inc. for my self-care.

As I became more involved in the program I began to have an interest in anything and everything promising to support self-care.  Even without my caregiving duties I had always lived such a harried lifestyle never able to keep up with the demands of family, work and community.  With the challenges of caregiving I found myself in the same situation oftentimes operating on auto-pilot.  As I began to focus my energy adding layers of stolen moments for me, intertwining some activities like listening to music to benefit both Martin and me, I made a conscious decision to continue on my journey of self-care well into my future.

Setting Boundaries. The future is now.  I ramped up self-care during 2023.  I decided to take the year off, meaning not inundating myself with commitments. The number one objective is to only do activities that I 100% want to do when I want to do them.  After a decade of caregiving, I needed to refill my empty tank.  I set the boundary and said, “No” without guilt.  If it wasn’t filling my tank mentally, physically, emotionally or spiritually, it had to wait until I felt whole again.

Me Time.  I hold commitments to myself as sacred.  I inadvertently made an appointment for a Monday causing me to miss yoga.  That’s when I devised appointment days.  For example, when I make an appointment for my doctors, dentist, car repair or anything else, I routinely schedule Tuesday or Friday.  Those are my appointment days.  While regular health-care checkups fall into the self-care category, so do my yoga practice, weight lifting, reading time, book club meetings and building my next home.  I don’t do early morning or late day appointments.  I’m retired.  Rush hour does not fit with my You, Inc. concept for living.  Early mornings are set aside for journaling, meditating and reading A Year Of Positive Thinking by Cyndie Spiegel and Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditation email (https://cac.org).  Once a week I indulge in home spa treatments like a facial and manicure putting on some meditation music and lighting a scented candle.

Healthy Eating.  As I write this I have Tuscan white bean soup simmering on the stove for supper.  By now, you probably know my self-care includes healthy eating along with exercise.  While I don’t deny myself a piece of pie or cake now and again, the changes I initiated are paying off with my feeling and looking better.  Embedded in my routine is weekly meal planning and grocery shopping.  The planning pays off in more Me Time and no stress about what’s for dinner.

Adopting this You, Inc. approach to self-care is refilling my previously depleted tank.  At one time stressed out of my mind I can once again take a challenge or setback in stride.  For the first time in what seems like infinitude, I’m volunteering some of my Me Time this week to help with fall clean up at the community center gardens.  It feels good to give of my time again and from a newly abundant reservoir.  

Self-care is not selfish.  You, Inc. is not selfish.  It’s how we replenish our inner reserves so we have something to give to others, family, friends and our communities.  If we didn’t take care of ourselves, we may not be around to take care of someone else. 

Copyright © 2023 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Sep 19 2023

Books

The third Thursday of every month the book club I belong to meets at our community center.  This month’s read is In Every Mirror She’s Black by author Lola Akinmade Akerstrom, her debut novel.  A story about three black women, each with a dissimilar background from various countries, coming to live in Sweden.  As always, I’m interested in what my fellow book club members have to say about the novel, characters, themes, plot and setting.  Our discussions are usually quite lively and our views disparate.  Ordinarily, I leave with my mind opened to alternate perceptions, themes and interpretations.  And, that’s a great thing for an aging brain!

I joined the club with three purposes in mind:

  1. To re-ignite my habit and love of reading.  From an early age I spent countless hours reading.  Books took me to other worlds, other people’s lives and other ideas beyond my own place in life.  Now, I wanted to not only enter diverse venues as a voyeur of the characters’ lives, personalities and quirks, I was on a quest to maintain cognition as I aged.  According to the National Institutes of Health reading is one of the activities, which not only supports cognitive function and memory retention, it may also slow diseases like Alzheimers;
  2. To meet people and become part of my new community. And, what a welcoming community it is.  This past January when I entered the large many windowed room, I was immediately welcomed as the ‘new’ person, handed a name tag with a string attached, a black magic marker and instructions to write my first and last name on the tag.  The newbie no more, at the August meeting I was the one greeting and instructing an unfamiliar face among us;
  3. To increase the amount of reading I carried out. I learned a long time ago, you can’t be a writer, at least not a good writer, without also being a reader.  In the last decade I’d squeezed in fewer and fewer reads.  Author Stephen King, according to his memoir On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, reads upwards of 80 books per year.  Yikes!  Considering the number of books he’s written, besides reading and writing he must do little else.

While I’m no where near reading 80 books per year, belonging to the book club has done exactly what I sought. I’m reading an average of 3 books per month now, so by the end of 2023 I may make it to about half of what Stephen King reads in a year.  My love of reading has reignited taking me to wherever I want to go to meet whoever happens to be living on those pages.  As I explore various characters, themes, plots, settings and author styles reading makes me use my brain to analyze, remember and just plain think.  Not all the books I read are fiction.  It’s the non-fiction, the stories of real, living, breathing people or those long gone, but leaving a story meant for telling, which make me ponder the world in which we live, how we got here and what the future will hold.

In our modern technology driven era I originally thought I would buy and read all my books through Kindle.  I transformed Martin’s old tablet into my Kindle by downloading the app.  At first I liked the idea of a less expensive version of a book on a device, which would hold many, many books, slim and easy to carry or store.  Traditional bound volumes take up volumes of space.   It took a few months for me to miss the feeling of the heft of a book in my hands, fingers leafing through the pages perhaps lingering to re-read a paragraph or two, writing the occasional observation in the margins or using one of my many book markers to note where I left off.  Now, I do some of both, buying the electronic version for light reading while obtaining the paperback version of others.  I also look to the local library shelves, if I’m lucky enough to get there before some of my fellow club members, and book exchanges like the one we have at our community center.  In turn, after reading a paper printed book, I donate it to the exchange for someone else’s reading pleasure.

Of all the benefits from participating in the book club, the greatest return is that I’m making new friends as we get to know each other through reading and a mutual respect for books and their creators.  I’m connecting.  I am becoming a part of the greater community in which I will live providing me with a sense of belonging.  I leave our sessions feeling uplifted and excited about my future in this community.  Books can open up all kinds of worlds to us including the one we live in today.

Copyright © 2023 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Sep 10 2023

How Much Is Enough?

On my return from Italy flying high over the north Atlantic there was a list of movies and podcasts offered by United to while away the passengers’ time during the nine hour flight.  I chose a podcast by a woman I’d never heard of – Dr. Laurie Santos.  What caught my eye was the word ‘happiness’ in the title of her podcasts from The Happiness Lab (https://www.drlauriesantos.com/).  I listened to one, then two, then three and then I couldn’t stop listening.  Months later I’m listening still.

Santos, a Professor of Psychology at Yale University teaches the most popular course in Yale’s 300 year history, “Psychology and the Good Life”, which teaches students how to make better decisions leading to a happier and more fulfilling life.  One would think at my age I’d have a good handle on that and I think I do, yet I’ve learned a lot from Dr. Santos and her interviews with an array of people from across the globe. 

I found one podcast especially insightful to my currently evolving  circumstances.  I feel happier than at almost any other time of my life.  I continue to mourn my loss, the unfairness of it all considering how Martin took care of his health.  Yet, I feel happier as I’ve adapted.  The circumstances of his care and disease and death made me more resilient, more independent and as Santos would say, braver.  I dare to do things I probably wouldn’t have done before.  I think way beyond the box.

Last week we broke ground on my property.  It was exciting to see the scrawny saplings and dead trees blocking entry to the property cleared away.  Their removal revealed an entrance flanked by huge oaks, which had shadowed everything else to its detriment.  It was a beautiful blue sky day with puffs of white clouds drifting lazily above the trees.  I walked the property looking back at the oaks and farm fields beyond.  As I stood on the little knoll where my house will sit I thought of Dr. Santos’ podcast, The Unhappy Millionaire, a story about a man who won a $31 million lottery.

What I found enlightening about this podcast was how it reflected my attitude towards building my house.  Underlying the story was the question, “How much is enough?”  Inflation has eroded my buying power and dreams for the house I wanted.  Like many people in this circumstance I started out thinking if only I had a little more money, if only I’d started last year or the year before, if only I’d sold my previous house for more money.  There is always this myth that we will be happy if, when _________.  You fill in the blank.  We often times spend our lives thinking if we just had more money, that sought after  promotion, a bigger house, the dream vacation, a fancier car and, yes, even the thought that when we retire, then we’ll be happy.  

As divulged in the podcast, like many human beings would be, I was bummed that I couldn’t afford what I wanted in this house.  I thought if only.  The Unhappy Millionaire caused me to shift my thinking toward gratitude.  What if I was grateful for what I could afford and worked within that budget?  I could still build the house and it was going to be my house, my sanctuary, my creation.  I was extremely fortunate to be living a life with a lovely family, good friends, great community and good health.  I decided to be grateful and take this up as a challenge instead of a setback.

With my changed attitude of gratitude wonderful things started coming my way.  Long before listening to The Unhappy Millionaire I found and bought a showroom floor model for my laundry room including high-end cabinets, sink and granite countertop for $600.  Next I tracked down granite and quartz remnants for my kitchen and bathroom.  Not the granite I wanted, but oh so beautiful, shaving thousands off the cost.  The quartz remnant was more striking than what I originally chose.  Wow.  I was having fun with this! I bought lights open box, carefully inspecting them upon arrival for any missing parts, scratches or dents.  Every one of them is in pristine condition.  I found Kohler fixtures online for a fraction of what local shops wanted, my exact chosen style, finish and all parts intact.  The columns for the porch are being procured from a barn wood salvage company shaving another $1,000 and adding special interest. 

The result of what I initially thought of as a negative is a contest I’m enjoying, savoring every victory over market prices, celebrating my triumphs, finding meaning not in the material things, but in the search.  It’s become an intriguing game to see what I can find next to have the quality I desire at a deeply discounted price.  More money wasn’t what I needed and it most certainly may not have made me happy.  My happiness comes from the ingenuity I’m using, the creative muscle I’m flexing.  I’m also relishing the fact that the house will have a style and charm it wouldn’t otherwise have had.

What happened to the unhappy millionaire?  Sadly, he took his own life.  He could have bought anything he wanted.  However, the money didn’t make him happy.  Material things didn’t make him happy.  More relatives than he knew he had came to him for money.  With his new lifestyle his friends drifted away.  Relationships were strained.  His wife eventually left him.  By winning the lottery he lost the love, relationships, community, passion and meaning in his life.  Money certainly helps, but beyond a certain dollar amount if we have a roof over our head, food on the table, clothes on our back and can pay for other necessities, we really don’t need more money or a bigger house or that prized promotion or the fabulous vacation or fancier car or whatever it is we think will be that which finally makes us happy.  Instead of seeking more, enough is when we understand that which makes us happy isn’t things or special events.  Enough is when we have meaning in our lives.  Enough is facing life’s challenges with gratitude for what we have.

Copyright © 2023 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.