Along with crocus and pussy willows signs of spring include more home buyers. Consequently, as a seller I’m preparing to put my house on the market. I can’t afford to build the new house without selling the old house, which presents a whole set of additional challenges like where will I live in between. But, that’s another post.
Unlike the sale of my South Carolina house where my main consideration was Martin, here I sort of have the luxury of not having to sell in a hurry. There, I needed a quick sale to spare Martin (and me) from the stress of weeks of showings, making sure each day the house was clean as a whistle, and leaving on possibly short notice for a showing. I also didn’t want us moving to Michigan in snowy January. Having spent decades in the business I knew the realities. I did what was best for our emotional health rather than getting an extra few dollars.
Every sale has its challenges though. This time I’m in a market, which is transitioning from a sellers’ market to a buyers’ market. With inflation building costs have skyrocketed. Some pressure most definitely exists to get the new house under way. I’ve been here before as well. Clean, clean, clean and plain vanilla sell in any market, but it’s even more important in a buyers’ market. They can be choosy about not wanting to paint over the sellers’ blue, pink or mint green colors. They can turn up their noses at what appear to be small maintenance or repair items. They can demand move-in ready. So, here I am touching up my plain vanilla wall paint, decluttering yet again and looking with a buyer’s eye at every detail.
I hunted ruthlessly through closets for anything I hadn’t worn or used in the last year, packing my car for one more trip to Goodwill. On a sunny 52º day with the drip, drip of melting snow sounding in my ears, I burned reams of old records and paperwork in the fire pit, some as much as twenty years old. Why I was hanging onto this is anyone’s guess. I think it was like discarding parts of my life, but on that day it was past energy from which I needed to free myself, not to mention the space it was taking up. While I watched my life going up in flames I envisioned the Phoenix feathered and golden rising from the accumulating gray ashes. That was me rising to rebuild my life. Then, I spied, just beyond the fire pit, fuzzy pussy willows budding out. Retrieving a pair of clippers from my garage I happily snipped several branches to bring inside. Yes, there were signs of spring, a new beginning, a fresh start.
Over the last several weeks I discovered a luxury I’d been missing. I didn’t know it was a luxury. I didn’t know I was missing it. I never thought of it as a luxury. But, it is. For the moment I’m indulging in doing nothing. Yes, nothing. Oh, I know we can’t ever be doing nothing. Even when we’re asleep, we’re doing something. One of the greatest challenges I’ve faced during the last year is overcoming the habit of being in constant motion both physically and mentally.
After two months of decluttering, donating, selling, cleaning, paint touch ups, spring garden tidying, mulching, cleaning some more, making everything sparkle, the damaged deck replaced, it was show time. The house went on the market. The new deck, which is the result of two cherry trees falling on the old one, the downsized amount of furniture and the fresh feeling of the house and yard almost make me want to stay here. Almost, but not really.
Following the major clean-up I spent a week or two fidgeting as I looked for activities to fill my time. Like a leaf in the wind I blew here and there doing whatever I convinced myself needed doing.
Then, I went to Detroit for a few days with a friend. With tickets to experience Immersive Van Gogh, which was mesmerizing, but way too short, we decided to spend a couple nights so we could shop (I bought one tiny little thing) and visit The Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation. Three days of wandering through museums and shops and art space. Leisurely breakfasts and lunches and dinners. Talking and sharing. Sleeping later than usual. I felt like I hadn’t felt in years.
Immersed in Van Gogh
Returning refreshed I decided to just be for a while. To do nothing. Easier said than done. Years of caregiving had my monkey brain still engaged full tilt. Over my caregiving years I learned to anticipate the next need, upset, crisis putting myself into forever proactive mode. If my predictive efforts didn’t anticipate the next caregiving event, there was, of course, flight, fight or freeze. Rarely did I freeze because I never stopped thinking or doing. And, there was never a time including respites where I focused on just being. Now, I realize what a luxury it is to do nothing.
Remember mindfulness? I wrote about it, practiced it and left it behind probably at the time I needed it most. Mindfulness is achieved by being mentally present. I’d been thinking for so long about the future and replaying the past in my head that I lost the habit of being conscious of my surroundings, my body, my emotions and not even paying slight attention to my current thoughts as they were swallowed up by stressing over what was to come. Somehow, I had to unearth the ability to live in full awareness of the present moment. It was there once; I could relearn it.
Enter neuroplasticity. Remember that? I also wrote about neuroplasticity, took classes on the brain and brain research at Furman University OLLI. Since then, the research on mindfulness and neuroplasticity continues to support the fact that we can create new neural pathways, even in cases where the brain is injured. When we learn something new, we rewire our brains. I’m on a track to rewire my brain with new neural pathways to respond to situations sans flight, fight or freeze. I’m reorganizing the connections in my brain. Doing nothing is helping me. By deliberately slowing my days I’m choosing what to do with intention each day, to be mindful and conscious.
Intention is not the same as having a to do list where you tick off each accomplishment. It’s not setting goals. My goal is to rewire my brain, but it is the daily practice guided by my intentions, which enables me to reach that goal. To me an intention sets the tempo for my day. It guides me. Working in my garden carries an intention such as, “I intend to be aware of the beauty and life in my garden.” Other intentions could be “I intend to eat a healthy diet today” or “I intend to practice mindfulness today” or “I intend to forgive others and myself”.
We often tend to believe if we put ourselves on idle, we’re being unproductive, lazy, wasting time. For me, doing nothing is not actually doing nothing, but, instead, being present, mindful of the moment with intention. Remember meditation? I was always good for about 5 minutes and that’s where I’ve started over with my meditation practice. Years ago I took a course in Buddhism, which is where I was introduced to meditation. The one important part of the practice, at least for me, was learning thoughts enter our minds even as we want to empty the mind. My instructor taught me to identify each thought as positive, negative or neutral, then let it go. It works leaving me with a clear mind, which affords room to consciously rewire of my brain.
During my years of working I prided myself on what I could get done in a day. In the early years of retirement I felt the same way. Following Martin’s diagnosis and years of caregiving, however, I’ve changed my mind. It’s taken the last year, and at times, I still find myself feeling as if I accomplished nothing in a day. And that’s ok. Letting go of old habits takes practice and time. For the most part, I now cherish the ability to slow down, reflect, feel joy, be grateful, create and live in the moment. It’s the luxury of doing nothing.
In order to reinvent my life I must divest myself of fragments from my past. Like my best memories of Martin, I’m keeping the possessions, which are dear to me. I’m not seeking a minimalist lifestyle, but one honoring our past while giving breath to what lies ahead of me. Unlike past decluttering this one requires a wisdom imbued with greater purpose.
I had a longtime habit of cleaning out closets and drawers each January as my version of out with the old, in with the new. Somewhere along the path I’m on that annual ritual went by the wayside. When we sold our South Carolina house, I did a major declutter. Or, so I thought.
In preparation for the sale of my Michigan house, I began going through drawers and closets with the purpose of decluttering. As I cleared drawers of stuff, I also considered furniture, which won’t fit in my new smaller home. Lists of things to donate and items to sell forced me to realize I wasn’t decluttering; this was the big purge.
There were obvious items that must go, like Martin’s bicycle, gear and outfits along with sport coats, dress shirts, slacks, leather belts and shoes. No reason for any of it to languish in closets and cubbies when someone else could make good use of it. It took two weeks for me to act on selling Martin’s bike. I cleaned it, polished it and looked at it day in and day out. I felt frozen in time, slogging through quick sand. After mustering the courage to drop his clothing at Good Will, I felt relief. Then, a few hours later, came a serious meltdown as grief washed over me in a torrent of tears. Divesting myself of his belongings was accepting he would never walk through the door again. Once I was all cried out, I let go of the bicycle as well. It was a kind of release.
Martin’s racing bicycle
As I sort through our lifetime with a mostly clear head I didn’t have in 2019, I often ask myself why I paid to have this or that hauled from South Carolina. Taking a page from organizational expert Marie Kondo, so much of what I had didn’t spark joy. “Did it spark joy for me?”, became my precept, albeit one which is resulting in keeping a few things that may not evoke a modern farmhouse style. Looking at my Great-Great Aunt Josephine’s crystal jewelry box, I opened it. I lifted out a chestnut. Hard and brown my Mother carried it in her purse as a talisman. As I ran my fingers over its smooth rich decades old surface this memento from my Mother was now my symbol of juju, mojo, good luck. A practical woman, a strong woman, her spirit would help me push through this arduous task.
As with the chestnut, possessions carry energy in the memories they summon in our spirits. I looked at the five sets of dishes from the dinner group we belonged to in the 1990’s. I hadn’t needed nor used all this entertainment paraphernalia in decades. The dishes, napkins and rings, table clothes and serving dishes. In an epiphany I realized it was the memories I was holding onto, memories of those evenings when we gathered monthly to break bread. Fun nights like the mystery dinners where we dressed up as various characters in a whodunit. And then, there was the toga party where neighbors must have thought we were crazy traipsing through our garden, glasses of red wine in hand, with our guests, all of us dressed in bed sheets! I would keep the memories and some of the accoutrements, but it was time for most of the physical trappings to go.
Following my second car load of memories taken to Good Will the picture was becoming clear. There were certain objects, furniture, glass ware, keepsakes I would never part with. Antique pieces from both our families needed to stay with me a while longer. A few pieces of the furniture we bought during our marriage were now vintage, slightly marred with scratches or glass rings where a coaster went unused. There is no place for a couple of items in my to-be-built new home, but I’m making a place.
The large marble coffee table in the great room was originally on the chopping block. Then came the evening I sat in front of the fire place mindfully looking at its smooth surface and rough edges, the tiny scratches from grandchildren running toy cars across it along with a few water marks from spilled drinks. Martin and I had gone to The Street of Dreams charity event while living in Seattle. In an 11,000 square foot show house sat a marble coffee table dazzling us both. A couple weeks later Martin went on a motorcycle ride returning to announce he’d found such a table at Frederick and Nelson Department Store. He wanted to buy it. And so did I. I knew now I couldn’t part with it. It represented a joint purchase, a joint love of beautiful things. Though now imperfect with blemishes from nearly 40 years of use, this table also represents the joyous imperfection of our lives. As with ourselves, we looked upon the blemishes as character. There are possessions, which are just baggage. And, then, there are things, which warm my heart each day, that spark joy and must continue to color my life. Despite its ultra modern look the marble table stays.
As I empty the house of remnants of my past life I feel less overwhelmed, lighter, more forward looking. I’m honoring my past. And, making room for my future.
While this post seems strange to me on Valentine’s Day eve, it is the approach of February 14 which fostered my curiosity about my current sense of singlehood. I began looking closely at what it means to be on my own after half a century. While searching within, I also, of course, searched the web. There are lots and lots of articles and blogs on being single. I had to diligently drill down in order to find articles, which weren’t how to’s on dating again or finding a new partner. Searching my heart and soul, I already knew I want neither. According to the Pew Research Center living without a spouse or partner under the same roof means I’m single.
Yes, yes I know. I can already hear someone saying, “But…but it’s almost Valentine’s Day”. For those of you with another partner after the death of a spouse or a divorce, I wish you a happy life together. You are all very fortunate people. You are also people who most likely made the choice to seek another partner. Or, perhaps, there was a bit of serendipity at play. Although I’m now single by chance and location, I’m choosing to remain single for several reasons.
One of many books of love Martin gave me over the decades. This one from the 1970’s is my favorite.
I had the good fortunate of a long, long marriage to a man who enjoyed cooking together, shopping together, working with me in the garden, while I went on motorcycle rides and hikes with him and cheered him on at bicycle time trials. If something needed repair whether bicycle or house, I was the extra pair of hands. We supported each others careers, with Martin even becoming the trailing spouse for my job move. Fun for us was creating great meals at home, stopping at our favorite pub for lunch or supper, going to art galleries, museums and historical sites, an occasional play or concert and later creating our art. We raised two kids and were rewarded with wonderful grandkids. We had good times and some bad times. It was all a lot of work, compromise, give and take. It took years and a mutual commitment to create what we had.
Then, this unthinkably horrible disease took away our beautiful life together, making me Martin’s caregiver and slowly stealing his mind and spirit. And, now, leaving me to carve out a future of my own, on my own. I still have our loving family as does he. They give me support and advice, but the reality is I’m single, alone, but not alone. As I do today, I will always have a hole in my heart for this profound loss.
However, at this juncture in my journey I’m also savoring buying my land, planning my new house and making the inherent dozens of decisions with no other consideration than what I want and can afford. While it’s sometimes scary because all errors in judgment fall squarely on my sagging shoulders, it’s also exhilarating to be forging a new identity. I feel like a kid again, only with lots of experience.
As is my habit I didn’t make New Year’s resolutions. But, I did write goals for 2022. Perhaps, they are one and the same. Topping my list is self-care. Self-care is not being selfish. It’s putting your own oxygen mask on first so you can help your fellow passengers. More than one well-meaning person recommended I volunteer as a way to handle my grief. When I’m fully breathing again, I’ll go back to volunteering. Following years of caregiving and putting Martin’s needs first, self-care is putting my needs, health and well-being first. It doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten Martin. It doesn’t mean I don’t still love him. It doesn’t translate into I’m no longer grieving. In fact, part of my grief is finding myself without my lifelong partner. It’s possible to grieve and, at the same time, feel joy again.
Accepting my single status allows me to envision my future. I was one-half of a pair in an egalitarian marriage. The chances of finding another partner wanting or even willing to cook, shop, clean, do laundry and be supportive of my activities outside the home is pretty much nil, especially since at my age, there are far fewer single men. The reality is women still live longer than men. Consequently, we outnumber them in the millions.
I’m also set in my ways. After five decades with one man, adjusting to a new partner is not anything I want to tackle. While there is a void with Martin’s decline and subsequent absence, it’s not one I feel a need to fill. I handled all the finances, paperwork and our social calendar. As he declined I even learned to make repairs around the house by watching YouTube how-to’s. I’m most proud of unclogging the dishwasher drain after a glass broke filling the drain with shards. With family and friends, as already mentioned, I’m not alone or lonely. I’m finding new meaning and purpose in my life, including my return to blogging. I’m quite capable of caring for myself and have every desire to continue doing so.
All of the above adds up to my choosing to continue living my life in singlehood. One of my other goals for 2022 is finding me, the real me, the self-directed me, the me without a partner. I have a house to build, classes to attend, books to read, people to meet, places to go, music to listen to, art galleries, museums and historical sites to visit, trendy and not so trendy small towns to explore, along with locally owned restaurants where I’ll savor good food and wines, cooking great meals at home and creating a new landscape to go with my new house. Whoopee, more plants, more gardens! And, of course, not doing anything at all…just being…just me…and my cats.
First I want to say, “THANK YOU” to all my loyal readers for staying with me. I humbly appreciate all of you as well as the kind comments and encouragement. For those of you on a similar journey as mine I wish you a clear path to ease your way forward. It will take some time for me to figure out WordPress all over again as they made many changes in my absence. Time, however, is what I have. My return to blogging is part of my self-care as I share my retirement story once again.
Most of us retire with deliberateness. We plan and dream. As I sit here writing with the serenity of lightly falling snow in my view, I think of all the plans Martin and I made. None of them included a life shattering illness. Yet, here I sit mapping a new retirement path. And dreaming.
As spring 2021 arrived with arrangements to place Martin in memory care, my doctor counseled me. Don’t make any major changes for at least a year. Do engage in a period of extended rest and self-care. After all, I was grieving and dealing with the attendant guilt, which comes with such a decision.
Seven months later I went straight into the deep end feet first with a major change. It felt right and still feels right. On the surface my actions appear to be on a whim, but I assure you much thought went into it.
I knew from the moment we bought this huge house I’m living in it was never going to be permanent. It was too big for the two of us, let alone just me. But, only five minutes from our daughter, it served its purpose. I had the nearby help and support I needed as a caregiver.
After placing Martin, as the months wore on, my mind turned to moving back to South Carolina with its mild winters. Then, there were the blazing summers. So, I thought about two homes, summers in Michigan and winters in South Carolina. Guilt over not visiting Martin for the months in South Carolina chewed at the edges of my heart. Even with Hospice attending now, his disease is so unpredictable. The end will come when it comes.
Yet, while recognizing the fluidity of our situation, I couldn’t help ruminating about my future. With winter approaching, I also realized I still loved living in a true four season climate. Wandering online through homes for sale in both markets, hot markets where nothing remained for sale for very long, I found my future.
Following a visit to Martin one sunny day this past fall, I drove down a pothole riddled road in dire need of replacing. Forget repairing it. The asphalt was beyond mending. But, I noticed the nice homes, the small farms and the seemingly never-ending acreage of a very large farm. Surprisingly, I was only five minutes from a desirable village where I had established relationships with doctors, dentist, a bank and a few businesses.
A large wooden For Sale sign heralded the two acres I came to see. Flanked on one side by freshly painted red barns and the original white farm house, my neighbor’s property looked like a beautiful greeting card. Idyllic. My acreage – I was already calling it mine – was a long and narrow meadow with oaks lining the frontage. I could picture the meadow dotted with wildflowers and paths for walking. And gardens around the house. Gardens with lavender and thyme and rosemary and vegetables in summer.
Wanting to stick with my doctor’s advice, however, I hesitated even after my daughter affirmed, “Mom you should buy this.” Even after my builder son-in-law seconded her motion. Instead I looked at other properties and communities. Self-doubts about what to do floated in and out of my mind.
Eventually, I realized artificial deadlines were exactly that. Yes, I bought it! I determined to forego the one year moratorium on major decisions. This property, this place called to me as no other in my life. It had been on the market for two years just waiting for me. There had been other offers, but mine was the one the sellers accepted. I was giddy with a renewed sense of excitement for my retirement.
Though bittersweet, I dream of the small house my son-in-law will build for me and the wildflowers in the meadow. I’m working on a plan with an architect. A modern farmhouse look, it will be just the right size for my needs. I plan to sit on my back porch with good friends and family and my cats and good wine and great music. And writing and drawing and, of course, gardening.
Oh, the road? Well, I tried to drive down it one day to find heavy equipment being used to tear up the old road before building a new one. Potholes no more. Instead, my new road for my new beginning.
Six years ago today I woke up officially retired from the workplace, a new identity waiting to be formed.Yes, six years!!!And what a six years it has been.
Prior to retiring I received lots of advice, most of it very useful wisdom, from people already enjoying a life filled with options of personal choice.Whether you are now retired or looking forward to it in the future, these nuggets of insight are worth repeating.
The first piece of wisdom came from a couple I volunteered alongside at a local farmers market.I still remember his face when he told me, “Guard your time jealously.”In the moment I didn’t realize how many people would be looking at me as a person who needed for them to fill my time.I found myself thinking of him and his advice again and again as well-meaning acquaintances, friends, even strangers, tugged at me to volunteer or join their organization of choice. This is your time to use as you choose – guard it jealously!
That said, another piece of advice was to give some of your time to a cause you care about deeply.I was already giving my time to volunteering at the agricultural extension’s information booth at the farmers market.So, that one was easy for me.That was my organization of choice.I educated. I taught people how to grow food, to create spaces for butterflies, bees and birds. I helped people make their gardens and the Earth a better place. It was fun. Find a cause where you willingly, happily and whole-heartedly give your time and your being.
That brings me to doing something you love.Whatever your lifelong hobby, now’s your time to enjoy it even more than ever.I know people who golf or play tennis several times a week, spend more hours acting at the community theater, make their garden into a show place around their home or turned their art into a source of income.Whatever it is up the ante. Keep doing it at a quantum leap.
Then, try something you always wanted to do, but didn’t have the time.Retirement affords the opportunity to start something new, fresh, fulfilling a dream.For me, that was taking up watercolor painting.I wasn’t good at it and didn’t enjoy it, but it led to other art mediums I do enjoy.With retirement you can start anew as many times as you wish.This is your moment for adventure! Failure is o.k. As a bonus of my adventures, I’ve met many other retirees in daytime art classes.Some became new friends.
Speaking of friends, realize that many of your friendships will be altered.The people who are still employed may drift away as your identity evolves.Or you may drift away from them as you find new acquaintances with a shared interest and time frame.Your social life will revolve around a daytime persona that is different from the work you.Be open to meeting new people.
Along with the advice of guarding your time jealously, the second piece of wisdom the couple mentioned above dispensed, “Give yourself two years to adjust.”It took all of two years and then some for me to settle in.Others may take no time at all.It depends on a lot of variables, such as your personality, your attachment to the type of work you did, how you left work – forced out, disability or planned exit, your retirement activities, your mental view and emotional feelings about retiring. Two years.
Lastly, retirement is an opportunity.It is not the dictionary definition of ceasing to work; it’s serendipity – the chance to do the kind of work you want to do.It’s the possibility of tapping into your reserved longings, the savoring of freedom to use your time as you choose.It’s the prospect of a fresh start in life.And, I hope this shared wisdom helps you to do just that.
Fifteen years ago my husband and I looked for land to build a second home with the idea it would become our retirement home in the future.Instead, we found the perfect piece of land not far from our work and activities.We decided to build our retirement home right away and sell our then-current home.We downsized.With aging in mind we chose an open floor plan with wide doorways.Hard surface flooring, energy efficiency and quality materials also topped the list.
Whether you are thinking of retiring or already retired, the question of downsizing may have crossed your mind.There are many reasons to downsize in retirement.Living in a home that fits your new or envisioned lifestyle is not the least among them.
A smaller home may not feed your ego the way a large home signals success to friends and family.You’re retired, right?You’re forging a new identity where you can leave all the outward signs of a large, expensive lifestyle behind along with your work self.That doesn’t mean you don’t live well.You live life on your terms however you want.Think about who you are underneath all the material objects including the big house. Think about who you want to be and what you want to do in retirement. Maintaining a large house usually doesn’t top anyone’s list.
A smaller home comes with lower utility bills and a smaller property tax bite allowing more money for travel or hobbies.Speaking of travel and hobbies, fewer rooms to clean with less stuff to maintain, a smaller home affords time for doing the activities you want to do in retirement.If you opt for a condominium home, you will pay a regime fee, but enjoy someone else performing the maintenance for the common areas and outer part of the structure.When you jet off to an exotic destination on your bucket list, no worries about the lawn getting overgrown in your absence.
You may be thinking you need to keep your large home because you anticipate children and grandchildren visiting often.Be realistic about how frequently they might visit.How far away from you do they live?What are their commitments to a spouse’s parents?What are their work schedules?Their school schedules?When our oldest daughter’s large family visits, it is bedlam.Air mattresses arrive with them, bodies and clothes are strewn everywhere.That’s now reduced to once yearly as the ability for visits is dictated by school, college and work schedules along with various athletic endeavors like volleyball, baseball and football.My son-in-law is self-employed and can’t take time off during the height of business.Do you really need to maintain a three, four, five or six thousand square foot house for a once or twice yearly visit?You’re retired, right?Why don’t you go visit them?
I never was one for lots of knick-knacks.My thinking always was, “Someone has to dust that.”As a working mother I found ways to limit the amount of time spent cleaning. I carry that philosophy with me today.Even with that view, over the last few years I’ve handed plenty of items to my daughters and charities.By choice my retirement life is more casual.Gone are the entertainment-type parties and dinners, designer clothes and formal furniture.Downsizing means decluttering.In a smaller home there is no room for useless stuff.In retirement, why would you want it?
Should you downsize?I don’t know.As always, that’s a question only you can answer.I know it works for me.Consequently, I do think you should consider it.
Last week someone I barely know leaned on me. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally. As they expressed their values to me in a one-sided conversation of what I “shouldn’t do” with my life coupled with what I “should do” for them, I was reminded of one of retirements’ greatest gifts — the ability to be true to your values like no other time in life.
We’ve all heard the old saying, “Sometimes you have to go along to get along.” To me, no setting requires that more than the work arena. In that venue I would have tried to talk to the above person in the interest of getting along and may have gone along, choking down their shoulds and shouldn’ts. Workplace politics would oblige at least an attempt to give my viewpoint and clarify my perception of their two cents, even as they cut me off mid-sentence.
Fortunately, work days are gone, so I just smiled as I said, “Have a great day!” and walked away. Even in retirement, we don’t completely escape others who want us to adopt their values. But, we can choose to take action based on our values.
While I try not to be judgmental (it’s hard), I also consciously surround myself with people who respect my values and are willing to listen to me as well as me listening to them. Not people who think the same as me. I detest group think (ohhh…there’s the judgmental me). I do my human best to be tolerant of my cohorts’ values. Mutual respect is the foundation of any relationship. That starts with acceptance of our differences, our values and our boundaries.
I have a good friend who I meet with for lunch — she dubbed it ‘munch and chat’. While we have much in common, we don’t always agree. We come from different backgrounds and life experiences. However, we have mutual respect for diverse opinions, making our conversations interesting and our friendship genuine. It speaks to my values of acceptance, trust and respect.
Long, long ago in the 1980s I took a new age type program called Context Training. Everyone at the company I worked for had to take the course. During the three days of seclusion and soul-searching, I learned how our values are created by the context of our life experience. Our values then enter into our decision-making from moment to moment, just like my decision to walk away from the person above or my decision to write this piece today.
Think about what your values are. What is important to you? Knowing what you value provides direction for your life, retired or not. For those of us who retire, leaving work identity behind, understanding and embracing our values, supplies us with a map for our retirement identity. Our values help us create our future. For example, I value creativity, so it comes as no surprise that I enjoy writing, gardening and drawing. Those make up the three central personal activities of my retirement days.
In my experience, when I find myself dragging my feet to do something with or for someone else, it’s because I’m not being true to my values. If I find myself unhappy, it usually has something to do with ignoring my values. A large part of our happiness quotient comes from being authentic. Retirement offers the perfect time for us to be exactly that.
Last week Mike wrote to ask me for a quick answer to the question, “What are you going to do when you retire?” Mike plans to retire in three months. I often receive the related question, “What do you do all day?”. Jan of retirementallychallenged.com (thanks Jan) gave Mike a succinct answer, “Whatever I want.” While it’s true we can do whatever we want in retirement, I think there is more behind the question than mere curiosity.
I know that not everyone reading this blog is a baby boomer, but most asking the questions are baby boomers. We’re a generation that hasn’t thought much about stopping what we’re doing. Many of us are still workaholics. We invented the youth culture — remember ‘don’t trust anyone over 30’? Now 10,000 of us are turning 65 every day of the week.
Boomers have always been the huge train coming down the track. Our numbers caused a boom in the building of hospitals, schools, housing, cars and other stuff. We still want everything on our terms, including retirement. Therein lies the rub. We don’t know what our terms look like. We ask the soon-to-be-retired in the hope of finding answers for ourselves.
Unfortunately, many haven’t saved enough to retire outright and will have to continue working at least part-time. Others have the money, but never developed any hobbies or passions. Their lives revolved around work and family. The go to activities in retirement are travel the world, golf, travel the country in an RV. Those activities do not appeal to everyone. The questioners are wondering what the Mikes of the world are going to do hoping to get some insight into what they will do. There is gobs and gobs of information on financial planning for retirement, but very little on living a retirement life.
The truth is we don’t ever really retire. It is my experience that we save enough money not to have to go to a job to earn a living. However, we still need meaning and purpose in our lives. Our jobs provided much of that along with our social identities and structure. Retirement means we have lots of unstructured time with which to create a new role designed by us for us.
A couple of nights ago Martin and I talked about the question. We are engaged in activities we did not have on our bucket list or story board. Some of the activities we did envision never came to fruition. We don’t care that they didn’t. We wear jeans and t-shirts most days. I kept one dress, one skirt, a couple nice slacks, blouses and jackets. Oh, and two pair of heels. The rest went to charity shops. No more concerns about dry cleaning, polished shoes, polished nails, calendars, to do lists for work and home, juggling appointments, clients, office politics, satisfying the boss and spending weekends running errands. And no rush hour traffic! I let my hair go grey and get it cut every ten weeks instead of cut and color once a month.
To me this is the answer to “What are you going to do when you retire?” :
“I’m going to leave my work role and identity behind. I’m going to explore who I am at my core. I’m on a mission of discovery. I’m going to fail at times, but that’s o.k. I’m also going to succeed. It is both frightening and exhilarating. The possibilities are endless. I’m never going to stop learning. I’m stepping outside my comfort zone. I’m reinventing who I am and may do that every few years.”
In the past few weeks I’ve had more than one friend tell me how, now that they are over 60, they’re having an easier time telling people what they actually think. They are having an easier time saying, “No” and putting their needs first.
One said, “Do you think that’s selfish?” My resounding answer was and is, “Absolutely not! In fact, it’s healthy.”
On the other hand I encountered someone trying to please everyone. As she found out, not for the first time, pleasing everyone is an impossible task. I’ve learned the act of trying to please one person often means being unfair to another person. Then, when that person squawks and you try to alter the situation to please them, the first person is affronted. What a mess! It’s a no-win situation for the people-pleaser.
Being a people-pleaser takes its toll on our stress level. While the people-pleaser is trying to please others, they are usually putting their feelings and needs aside. We already have our own problems. Increasing that burden by accepting ownership of someone else’s feelings or problems also increases our stress level. The current mantra of “Not my circus; not my monkey” is a healthy thought. Leaving someone else’s monkey on their back means you are setting boundaries.
All too often we look at setting personal boundaries as building fences that keep others out. In reality we are making others responsible and accountable for their situation. Remember the old saying, “Good fences make good neighbors?” Just like a physical fence along a lot line, setting personal boundaries tells others which space is yours and which space belongs to them. It sets the tone of respect for your emotions, your time and your well-being.
One of the situations I’ve come across in retirement is people who think I am sitting around with lots and lots of time on my hands just waiting for them to give me something to do. Before I retired I was warned by an already-retired acquaintance how I would need to guard my time jealously. He was correct. This is where I found it necessary to set boundaries time and again as people thought I would make a great volunteer for their organization or I had time for one more class or an afternoon of playing cards or joining one more club or group. I struggle at times, but for my personal sanity I learned to say, “No.”
Most of the time I’m in a give and take relationship where my decision is accepted graciously. There is mutual respect. However, if my decision is not respected and pushback ensues, I have no qualms about pushing back myself. And, yes, I find it easier to tell people what I want, need and think now that I’m in my sixties. After decades of caring for others, sometimes to my detriment, this time is for me. Oh, I still have people I care for and want to take care of, but I put my needs at the top of the pecking order.
Working on self-awareness is wholly necessary to reach self-confidence in setting boundaries. Being mindful of who you are in retirement, what you want from these years and what you need emotionally to achieve a fulfilling lifestyle will help you stay on your chosen path. Fences do not keep people out; fences allow you to thrive on your terms.
Kathy's Retirement Blog 