Tag Archives: Transitions

Mar 20 2023

Rules

During the last 20 years a lot has been written, reported, spoken about being our authentic selves.  When the idea of living authentically first entered my head space, I was working.  I wondered then how that might be looked upon in our rule based society where fitting in was a job requirement for most of corporate America.  Different ideas were often met with, “but that’s the way we’ve always done it”.  Rules and policies reigned. Employee manuals included everything from acceptable behavior to dress codes. Group think or face the wrath assigned to anyone not perceived as a team player.

Going further back in time I grew up in a very conformist household.  My family was, like many other families of the era, rule based.  Rules for inside the home and rules for school, church and social activities.  Rules for speaking and rules for dress.  Rules for daily living and rules for thinking.  The rules were there to ensure that we did fit in, were accepted and belonged.  We had to act the part and look the part and sound the part.  We’ve all heard the saying, “Go along to get along.”  

From an early age I was always the odd girl out among my siblings.  I didn’t do sports or fishing or deep sea diving or horseback riding or going to the stock car races.  While the kids in the neighborhood played baseball in the empty lot, I reveled in books, dance, theater, music, art and anything avant-garde.  The Sizzling Sixties rocked my world and I enjoyed the ride.  Growing up an hour train or bus ride to New York City, I was smitten with the anything goes in the city that never sleeps.  Back in my little borough on the Jersey Shore, it was rules, beliefs, fitting in and being normal.  Anything I did that was different from the perceived normal was shamed and ridiculed ending with the refrain, “We don’t believe in that” or “We don’t do that” or my mother’s favorite, “Kathleen, how could you?!”.

From home, church and the school yard we move on to the work place.  Here’s where not fitting in can hit us in the wallet.  The job or career where we have to fit in, go along to get along and work, work, work to achieve more and more in order to gain higher levels of prestige, money and success.  We create goals to satisfy our egos and our supervisor’s annual review.  We burden ourselves with more tasks which, comes with more stress, perhaps competition, and sometimes jealousy, from co-workers, then more hours, education and experience grabbing to do the same thing over again.  We dress to fit the role we play.  For this t-shirt and jeans type, hands-in-the-dirt gardener, the designer suits, acceptable hair style, perfect makeup and well heeled look grated.  It wasn’t dress for success to me; it was a strait jacketed uniform that helped pay the bills.

Throughout our lives for any number of reasons we often strive to fit in, so we will belong, suppressing our very authenticity.  We self-edit our ideas and desires to become someone else’s version of normal, acceptable, to meet their reality.  It may be for family or societal pressure, to bring home a paycheck, to be liked.  For me, that always chafed as if I were wearing a pair of ill fitting slacks.  Retirement is a cathartic release of all the above.  As poet Mary Sarton said, “We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.”  Retirement is the opportunity of a lifetime to be truly authentic.  Whatever identity we wore in our previous two-thirds of life, we can now create an identity of our own making.  

Today I don’t have one designer anything in my closet.  My wardrobe consists of many pairs of my coveted jeans, t-shirts and sweaters.  I rarely wear jewelry, not even earrings.  I let my hair go gray years ago.  I write, read, paint, draw, listen to music, garden, of course, and plan solo travels like my upcoming trip to Italy or building my new house.  There will always be people who tell us we should do this or should do that.  They are thinking what works for them must surely work for you.  Listen to them, politely, if you can, then do whatever the hell you want!  You have nothing to prove to anyone.  You don’t need anyone’s approval.

To an extent we will always need to follow some rules as a society without rules is a mass of chaos.  I see this time as choosing to live my reality built upon my dreams.  I see it as I need people who support me, who may disagree with me, but people who accept my authentic self.  I see it as this time in my life is irreplaceable and it belongs to me with open arms for those who love me and I love in return.  I see it as wanting people in my life who see me as amazing as much as I see them as amazing.  In this moment I realize the gift of retirement is freedom to be who I am, where I am.  I no longer have to fit into someone else’s idea of me.  That’s my new reality.  That’s my rule now.

Feb 4 2023

Food Glorious Food

I’ve always been a foodie.  In fact, my love of gardening started in the 1970’s with growing fresh herbs for all the dinners Martin and I prepped at home.  That was followed with growing my own produce and finally, gardens to fill the senses.  But, food, glorious food was always at the center of my enjoyment.  And at the center of family time.  Dinners out were not the normal routine for us when we could make it better in our own kitchen.

As our daughters grew and moved out of the house, we empty nesters adjusted to smaller meals.  Then, after decades of cooking together, Martin’s move to memory care left me cooking for one.  At first I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to continue cooking for myself.  But, after years of delicious home cooked meals, the alternative of processed, frozen dinners or take out left, well, a bad taste in my mouth.  With Covid, of course, fewer restaurant options remained and eating out solo as I’d done when I traveled for work was also unappealing.  What to do?  What to do?

At one of the occasional meals I have at Rachel’s house I savored a yummy chicken chili made in a crockpot.  I lamented the idea that such a meal would leave me with so much extra food.  Then, Rachel to the rescue!  

“You could get a small crockpot used for appetizers or smaller meals and cut the recipe.”  

What?  Feeling out of touch with the conveniences of today, I was amazed to find there are crockpots for two.  Of course, I bought one for $30 along with Pamela Ellgen’s book, “Healthy Slow Cooker Cookbook for Two”.  One of my favorite recipes is Chicken in Mango Chutney. Spiced with cinnamon, ginger and curry I love the smells that fill the air.  Another who knew is mango comes all diced in a can!

The crockpot revelation gave me the impetus to alter my frame of mind about cooking for one.  I discovered the website https://www.allrecipes.com, which offers the ability to modify the number of servings for many recipes.  Since most recipes can’t be reduced all the way down to one, I cook a meal and freeze the other half or have it for dinner a couple nights later.  That gave me another idea.  

Maryland crab soup with focaccia bread

Instead of looking at recipes as that’s too much for me to eat, I began looking at whether or not the meal could be broken into smaller portions and frozen.  Yes, I know I didn’t want to buy frozen meals at the grocery store, but my hesitation was based upon too much added salt and/or sugar along with ingredients the names of which I can’t pronounce.  During my current Michigan winter I’ve found a big pot of soup, stew or chili freezes well and provides a cozy comfort food dinner on bitter cold nights. Grandma Merlino’s spaghetti sauce can also be made as for a crowd then divided and frozen for future pasta dishes.

Other favorite comfort foods include lasagna and enchiladas, easily made in a casserole dish, divided and frozen.  As my days fill up with activities outside the house, these dishes along with the crockpot provide ready meals upon my return.  Paired with a salad I can still eat an enjoyable healthy dinner.

Speaking of salads I upped my game from the usual greens to making some interesting additions.  With winter comes a dearth of fresh greens, tomatoes and cucumbers.  Roasting root vegetables (parsnips, carrots, turnips, beets and whole cloves of garlic) to be added to kale, spinach and arugula along with chopped nuts, dried cranberries or other fruits and some feta cheese makes for a nourishing winter salad.  I also started adding a touch of maple syrup not only to my chili recipe, but also my balsamic vinaigrette. It provides an earthy nutty flavor.  Dried lavender buds, reminiscent of a summer day, is another favorite addition to the vinaigrette. Summer fare may also include salads which are not limited to greens. Three bean, asian noodle or fruit salads shake things up a bit.

Shrimp with three bean and asian noodle salads

On days when I find myself without a meal plan I turn to my egg carton and vegetable bin for a quick frittata in a small fry pan.  I add anything I can find including some roasted root vegetables, peppers, shallots, potatoes, celery or asparagus.  What’s left can be re-heated for breakfast or even a lunch. 

Never one to count calories I try, not always successfully, to simply eat healthy.  My one guilty pleasure is bread.  Any kind of bread, but especially a hard crusted bread or a moist muffin.  So, I indulge in a baking day making anything from crusty rosemary bread to carrot pecan muffins to focaccia bread.  Again, the muffins freeze well.  Breads can also be frozen, but should be used within the month.

Carrot pecan muffins

Eating for one, which started out as a depressing thought, has turned into an exploration of my senses as I experiment, discover and enjoy what food, glorious food has to offer.  It gives me something delectable to look forward to at the end of the day. And, the results have been very satisfying indeed.

Dec 31 2022

Where Are You Going? Where Have You Been?

Here we are again.  The end of another year.  One of the rituals of the culmination of the year is reflection upon where we’ve been as we make resolutions for the next year.  I haven’t made New Year’s resolutions in I don’t know how long, although I opted a few years ago to embrace a Word Of The Year or WOTY for short.  For me, the last few months were dedicated to reflecting not only on 2022, but my entire lifetime.  Many times I asked the question, “Where have you been?”  So, I’m not inclined to reflect further.  Instead, in early December I began thinking about where I was going.  My contemplation resulted in action.

Now, back to the WOTY.  The Oxford Dictionary actually chooses a WOTY to reflect the mood of the past year.  On the other hand a personal WOTY is meant to bring clarity to what you expect to change in the next year.  Originally, I chose ‘joy’ then ‘create’ then ‘balance’ then ‘renew’ then ‘discovery’ then no word at all.  I decided I was having such a time identifying one specific word that I didn’t actually want 2023 to be defined by a WOTY.  I desired the freedom to wend my way through any number of experiences and ideas and feelings and emotions and whatever life brought my way. 

After seeing the book on a friend’s coffee table, in October I bought, “A Year of Positive Thinking” by Cyndie Spiegel.  Spiegel provides a positive thought for each and every day of the year.  The dates are non-specific to a certain year, so you can pick up anywhere in any year.  I added it to my morning reading along with the “Guide For Spiritual Living”, a monthly magazine from the Center For Spiritual Living.  Coupling my daily readings with a course in The After Life at a local college, I drew on these resources as I ruminated about 2022 and planned for 2023.  I wanted 2023 to develop without being boxed in.

I reached this conclusion after reading, on December 23rd, Cyndie Spiegel’s thought for the day.  She wrote, “Who were you once?  Who were you before you began becoming the person others told you to be?  Who were you when you trusted and actually listened to your truest self?”  Oddly, this was exactly what I had been meditating upon since Martin’s death.  

Realistically, we all know the person of our childhood is long gone. Or, are they? Is our childhood person replaced by the person who was not only molded, in part, by those around us, but also by our life experiences?  “No”, I answered. “I am the same person yet a different person.”  Life can indeed be messy.  It can be fraught with hurt and trauma, unexpected pain.  It can also be magical, joyful and mystical with unexpected gifts.  Through it all, we grow and learn, rising in wisdom and, hopefully, self-actualization, becoming who we are today.  Yet, our soul’s code remains deep within perhaps waiting to be awakened.

Spiegel also asked such questions as, “What did you enjoy?” And “Where did you go?”  Those questions begged answers providing my mind and heart something to chew on.   Even before reading this passage in Spiegel’s book, I determined to do some things I now had the freedom to make happen.  Drawing on my work experience I knew resolutions often fail because they are not developed as step by step goals.  Knowing what action is required to make a want a reality is the key to success.  Drawing on my childhood dreams I began taking action.

Of course, whatever I did would most likely be done solo.  Traveling was a dream from childhood carried into my derailed retirement.  Now, I was putting that train back on the tracks full speed ahead.  Trepidation over traveling by my little old self was assuaged by the Michigan State University Alumni Travel Program.  As an alumnus I could take advantage of the numerous tours offered each year to Europe, Asia, South America and Africa.  A friend also reminded me of how, in our much younger days, we traveled solo for business as a matter of routine.  I could do this!  And, so I dove into the idea by booking a 2023 tour to Tuscany, Italy.

Ah, me. I had written lots of contracts in my career days and then, there’s this blog.  My soul still longed to write.  To that end, I reserved a spot in a writing workshop at John Campbell Folk School.  I’ve been to John Campbell twice before.  There’s a certain comfort in spending a week in a familiar, friendly place where community and fellowship abound.  Following the pandemic meals are back to being communal along with Morning Song and evening activities.  Living on campus is part of this uniquely American experience amidst artists and art, American folk art.

And, of course, the house I’m still sitting in as I write this is going back on the market next spring.  While my new house is being built I’m not sure where I will land to call my temporary home.  Yet, I feel strangely secure in the idea it will work out.  I know how the big picture will look if I’m off on one of my forays.  It’s the details, which allude me due to timing and the market and all the unknown little things that surface only when a contract is put together.  One of the gifts of Martin’s passing is my spiritual transformation to faith in the power of the universe.  I am not a body with a mind; I am a mind with a body.  Whatever occurs, everything I need will all come together.

This is my plan for 2023 so far.  And, that may be enough for one year.  For all the times I could barely put one foot in front of the other, I’m so excited about the future.  This is my time.  There is unlimited joy in just thinking of the possibilities.  Taking steps to make these dreams a reality is empowering beyond anything I could have imagined.  I revisited the idea of a WOTY and revised my thoughts.  Why not have Words Of The Year?  Plural.  As I enter 2023 ‘creativity’, ‘self-discovery’ and ‘adventure’ capture my mood and intent.

To all of you, wherever you are, I wish you a creative, adventurous 2023 of discovery!

Sep 25 2022

End of Life

The post I had in mind for a month ago was “Cooking for One”, but I found myself, not for the first time, with writer’s block.  It’s been a rough last few weeks.  So, today, forcing myself to write, I decided to post what’s kept me from writing.  “Cooking for One” will have to wait.

It should come as no surprise that my somber mood has to do with Martin. Over the course of the summer he declined significantly, more seriously so in the past few weeks.  Hospice says it’s a matter of months.  I ask the question.  A few months?   Several months?  They don’t know.  Just months.  Martin’s primary attending predicts a more rapid decline in the next 90 days.  But, even he doesn’t know for sure.  All they know is the signs are there for end of life.  But, this disease is as unpredictable as it is cruel.

I’ve long steeled myself for this moment, yet somehow through all the years of anticipatory grief, I wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming feelings of impending final loss.  Adrift.  Alone.  Indecisive.  Unfocused.  I feel as if I’m slogging through mud up to my knees.  Just putting one foot in front of the other takes effort.  Yes, I’m depressed.  Who among us wouldn’t be.  We all experience loss throughout our lives.  We walk through the actuality of our sorrow to hopefully come out on the other side to accept the loss and start our lives anew.  It’s the getting there that depletes us.  

This end has been coming for the past ten years, twelve if I count the two years prior to retirement.  That’s when I noticed changes in Martin’s once predictable personality.  Blamed on stress and depression he chose to retire from his pressure cooker job.  It was one night not soon after that we sat in the kitchen sipping cabernet and talking about dinner.  Instead of bowl Martin described mixing something – I don’t remember what – in a box.  “You mean a bowl,” I said.  “No.  A box,”  came his answer.  Perplexed, I got up, went to a cabinet and pulled out a bowl.  He smiled and said, “Oh. Yeah.  A bowl.”   I brushed aside my concerns not knowing a years long trial had just shown itself.

My vast experience as a caregiver tells me the best thing I can do for me and Martin is take care of myself.  To that end I started seeing a counselor again.  Hospice, of course, has social workers and a chaplain to talk to.  Family and friends are getting me out to some fun events.  And, my readership gives me purpose.  Last week I took my first ever yoga class.  It was so rejuvenating I wish I had started sooner in my caregiving journey.  I read Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking for a second time.  With its honesty her memoir about the year after her husband’s sudden death speaks to me as I experience many of the same emotions, confusion and wishful thinking.  Meditating and reading my spiritual guide each morning at least starts my day off on a peaceful note. 

I sit with Martin, who no longer recognizes me, looks at me, won’t let me hold his hand, but still allows me to rub his shoulders.  He can no longer say even one word.  I talk to him soothingly telling him it will be ok, not certain if I’m reassuring him or me or both of us.  I’m hoping somewhere inside what remains of my Martin he recognizes my voice and takes comfort from its sound.  And I pray for mercy and grace for a peaceful death.  Soon.

Aug 23 2022

Lighten Up

I received a lot of insightful comments to my query on retirement challenges.  It sounds like we all realize retirement is no different from the other times of our lives.  There are ups and downs we weathered and will continue to weather as we age.  For some of you the challenges provided inspiration to find new meaning and purpose enriching your retirement.  For others, you faced unexpected loss as I did early in my retirement.  For others still, it was a matter of accepting the situation, what I call lightening up. 

For me, while recently working on creating a greater idea about my life, I’ve encountered some setbacks beyond my control.  As someone who’s always tried to control events learning to let go and allow this evolution to flow wherever it takes me is a challenge in itself.  My personality was never one to lighten up.

Now, I find myself with no other choice.  The new house is on indefinite hold.  I haven’t sold my current house.  In order to build the new one I must first sell this one.  Our inflationary period played a role, but the big deterrent came out of the blue.  Following the height of the pandemic, people are still working from home and many will continue to do so.  I lost two serious working-from-home buyers wanting to live the rural life, but needing the ability to video conference.  I now know more about the internet than I ever wanted to know.  

My Modern Farmhouse Now On Hold

I have high speed internet.  However, the download is fast enough for video conferencing; the upload is not.  The upload pushes information out into the world wide web.  The only way to increase the speed at my house is access to fiber optics, which my carrier predicts is at least a year away.  As I write this fiber is being laid a mere eleven miles from my house.  According to a recent article in The Washington Post only 43% of the population in the United States has fiber optics.  The Biden Administration passed a bill to extend fiber into rural America and Michigan received its share of the funding.  As we all know, everything takes time as a project of this magnitude requires lots of labor and materials to execute the plan. 

Since I need to rent while my new house is built, I was also in a quandary about where I would live.  Not only are rents exceedingly high, every single place I contacted had long waiting lists.  Very few offered short-term leases of six to eight months.  In the college town of Kalamazoo with thousands of rental units I was shocked to find nothing readily available.  With my three cats and Rachel’s three dogs, moving in with her family is out of the question, unless we want the fur to fly.  Consequently, I decided to take the house off the market and wait out inflation, market fluctuations and laying fiber optics.

Though disappointed I’m also grateful I don’t have to move.  I have the luxury of staying put a while longer.  And, with all the work preparing the house for sale, I can sit back and enjoy the fruits of my labor.  We all face challenges.  The ups and downs are normal.  We work through our current sticky wicket, reach a plateau and then the next glitch appears in our lives.  Working through each one is called growth.  We learn, compromise, rise to the occasion, adapt, acquiesce or whatever else it takes.  It’s all part of our evolution.  I decided to surrender to this moment.  I know what I’m seeking and eventually it will happen.  For now, I’ll continue doing nothing and just lighten up.

Aug 9 2022

What Are Your Retirement Challenges?

As my retirement turned into an unplanned roller coaster ride with ups and downs I’ve wondered about my readers’ experience in the time of Covid, inflation and other uncertainties.  I think of all the retirees planning to travel by air or land or spend leisurely days on the golf course or tennis courts, beach or lakes.  There are the dreamers of a long awaited tour of other countries or an RV adventure.  People who want to start a second career or volunteer, take classes, start a new hobby, spend more time with grandkids. You’ve heard about my journey; now tell me something about your experiences.  

By asking you to share your experience with others I believe we’ll find we have a lot in common.  Sharing can create change, a feeling of community and the knowledge we aren’t alone.  Oftentimes, we keep our battles hidden.  I deliberately exposed mine through this blog hoping to help other retirees work out what I saw as common dilemmas from identity loss to how to fill our time.  Reading the comments to some of my posts helped me realize I wasn’t alone and gave me insight and ideas I might, otherwise, have not encountered.

At one time I really thought my retirement was over.  Maybe even an enjoyable life would never come again.  But, I found I had more resilience and strength than I ever thought possible.  Enter Covid.  I thought the world had gone to hell in a hand basket.  Being house bound was difficult; going out with a demented husband was even more difficult.  Getting him to wear a mask, social distance, use hand sanitizer took all my patience some days.  I thought retirement couldn’t become more difficult, but then I thought of the people around the world suffering far more than I and Martin.  For years now, I call Tuesday Gratituesday as a way to be sure I count the good things in my life at least one day a week.  That kept me going with hope.

What have you faced my friends?  Did Covid or some other event derail your retirement plans?  Did you work and continue to work?  Did you retire early?  Did you shelve plans to travel or golf or visit museums or wineries or other parts of your country?  Now we are experiencing high inflation.  It’s higher than it’s been in decades.  There are supply chain issues.  Travel is expensive and from what I’ve seen on TV air travel is frustrating as flights are canceled or delayed.  Are you like me and experienced a health crisis with your partner or yourself?  The list can go on and on.  

Retirement is much like our pre-retirement lives – stuff happens.  What challenges have you encountered.  How have you handled those challenges?  Did you handle the challenges?  Let’s help each other by sharing.  We’re all on this journey together.

Happy Gratituesday!

Aug 2 2022

Doing Nothing

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.

Mar 27 2022

Decluttering – Or The Big Purge

My Mother’s good luck charm

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.

Jan 9 2022

Renewed Retirement Dreams

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.

Jan 11 2020

Revelations

 

It’s that time of year again where we made our New Year’s resolutions, face a clean slate, decide what we want to write on our slate.  I feel like I started with a clean slate in September.  I’m still working on it.  If someone told me a year ago, at the beginning of 2020, I’d be living in a new house, different climate and culture, changing my reality, I’d most likely have thought them daffy.  Yet, here I am.  I didn’t make resolutions again this year.  However, I am pondering some revelations.

Rhetorically, does a move to another state change our reality?  Decidedly so.  

Despite my trepidation about living in the snow belt, our Christmas was not white with snow, but sunny with temperatures in the high 50’s.  By Thursday it was 61.  I washed, waxed and detailed my car while Martin bicycled 18 miles.  Major storms, which made national news, went either north or south of us revealing a short winter season.  I’m ready if we get hammered as today it appears ‘The Iceman Cometh’.  My new reality includes a snow plowing service for the driveway as well as generator for power outages.  

But, compared to my altered emotional, spiritual and mental reality, the change in my physical reality is a minor aspect.   

Christmas night, as we prepared to leave our daughter’s house after a day of family, our grandchildren offered up hugs, our son-in-law backed my car out of the driveway and our daughter said, “Watch out for deer.  They’re scampering all over the place.”  

“I know.  We see them scampering.  I’m tired.  Glad it’s only 5 minutes to the house.”

She smiled.  “A lot better than 12 hours.”

Yes.

Having family, assistance and love just 5 minutes away has granted the measure of peace I hoped for.  I’m happier than I’ve been in years.  My only regret is not making the move sooner.  While being a caregiver is still strenuous, it is now a shared responsibility.  The kindness, acceptance, attention, effort, compassion, empathy, time together – I could go on and on.  

This hasn’t been easy.  After 21 years in South Carolina, even with the help of family, adapting to a new culture is a challenge.  Fortunately, we’ve lived here before.  Some things never change.  At the same time, growth renders cities and streets unrecognizable.  Family ties, of course, make it easier to find doctors, hair stylists, the best places to shop and other services.  When we moved to South Carolina, we had to rely on maps to get around.  GPS makes a new locale a lot simpler, especially wending our way through those now unfamiliar high growth, high traffic areas. 

While not making resolutions, I did reflect on what I wanted 2020 to look like.  Nearly two weeks into the new year and new decade, I decided to take a page from fellow blogger Pat Doyle’s post (https://retirementtransition.blog/2020/01/06/woty-2020-release/) and choose a Word Of The Year (WOTY) as a guide.   I wanted a word to lead the way to the emotional, spiritual and mental growth I sought in this new reality.  I wanted a word to aide my focus.  I wanted a word to define 2020 for me.  My WOTY is ‘Engage’.  While I’ve been busy settling in, locating services, changing licenses, address, painting walls and whatever else was needed to make this home our own, other than family, I haven’t engaged in the community in a meaningful social way.  

We live in the country.  However, looking around at what’s close to home revealed a wealth of interests hinging upon our natural world.  Small town activities abound.  Then there’s always the big cities, a bit longer to get to, but filled with many pursuits to choose from.  

Martin’s Painting of Canadian Geese

Keeping it local, as a first step to engaging Martin and I joined the Michigan State University Bird Sanctuary and Manor House only a few minutes from our home.  Similarly, we joined the Kalamazoo Nature Center – yes, there really is a Kalamazoo, Michigan – a bit further down the road.  

As a caregiver one of the challenges of engaging is finding activities, which will engage and satisfy both of us as well as finding community involvement for me alone.  The Bird Sanctuary is home to Trumpet swans, Canadian geese, ducks and rescued birds such as a Bald Eagle.  With nature trails surrounding a large pond and a monthly Birds and Coffee Walk, as longtime hikers, it’s the perfect place for both of us to get some exercise, engage with other people and nature.  On our last visit we met a photographer who drives over an hour just to take pictures of the once endangered Trumpet swans.  Martin took his own photos of geese, translating them to his artist canvas.  For me, there’s also the Richland Area Community Center with yoga and art classes.  It’s a beginning.

With an open mind and an open heart and ‘Engage’ as my WOTY, we’ll see what I can draw upon my slate by the end of 2020.  Engaging is under way!  More revelations to come.