I thought I could manage this transition with my hands tied behind my back. Divorce, remarriage, several major moves, cancer, career challenges and changes, parental care-giving, death and dying. I've known my share. Retirement, should be a breeze.
In fact, I thought I'd been doing a remarkable job so far, managing this transition more gracefully than any other previously. Proud of myself, maybe just a bit smug. After all, we'd moved from Vegas within 27 days, downsized from two homes to one, created new routines, signed up for classes, taken up hobbies long forgotten or intended, and all in less than a year. Told friends and family that I'd never felt so content. And meant it.
How could I forget? Forget that just when you think you're well on the road to a new beginning, you can expect the proverbial bump, even a massive pothole to remind you to slow down, maybe take an alternate route, or even turn back.
I've been reminded. In February, I began to notice that I was feeling "out of sorts", sleeping erratically, restless, frequently frustrated or annoyed, easily disappointed or angry. At first, I credited the shift to receiving distressing news from a family member, and then to having read some deeply thought-provoking books, and then to both. Whatever the catalyst, I pulled back as I am wont to do, and filled reams of journal pages. Revisiting again and yet again, what's going on? Why now? What should I/could I do to move through this?
I finally stepped back and regrouped, realized that I needed to create the space and time to face more deliberately this massive change in my life, in our lives together. This complex transition we simply call retirement. To experience more fully what I have understood intellectually - that this may be one of the most significant transitions of my life. To slow down.
To allow all the emotions - emotions too easily masked or denied by a busy schedule of doing. Not just the pleasure of meeting new people, the satisfaction of interesting new experiences. Not just the relief of leaving Vegas. But also the pain of great loss - the sense of worth and contribution I've known over the years of teaching and training; the unsettling uncertainty of future health challenges; the anxiety when I meet another widow or widower; the nagging everyday worries that aging brings.
To pay more attention to completing where I've been so I can move forward as gracefully as I'd like, as I thought I'd been doing. So, while away from this blog, I also have been reorganizing, starting as I usually do, with my environment. Literally attacking the last visible phase of letting go, making those decisions I've put off, getting rid of yet more stuff we no longer need, or use, or will use. Attacking even those ultimate guardians of the past, my closet and the garage.
And as I continue to sort and donate and toss, rethinking. What activities do I want to continue? Relinquish? What adds genuine value? How can I use what I am learning to support my husband, my family and friends who are facing their own transitions? How can I still make a difference?
So...if you've visited this site before, you'll see that I'm reorganizing it, too. If this is your first visit, I hope it won't be your last. I promise I won't be so lengthy in the future. And to any and all who venture here, whether deliberately, or accidentally, may my reflections be of some assistance - or at least, interest. May we learn from one another - how to thrive, not merely survive, in the midst of transition.
Are you in the midst of a significant transition in your life?
A week ago today, my birthday, the beginning of not just another year but another decade. Striking how different this birthday felt from last year's. I had just dissolved my business of 25 years, was anxious about selling a house in the depressed Vegas market, wondering and worrying about how we'd get to St. George, what retirement would hold for both of us.
Today, only one year later, we're settled, both comforable, both enjoying continuous ed courses, meeting new people. Checking out restaurants, catching matinee movies on an impulse, developing new hobbies. Becoming better companions than ever in our 29 year marriage.
No longer any caregiving responsiblities. Secure. Healthy. Engaged. Content.
So, if not now, when? The question that hit me this morning. Nothing to prevent me from -
- learning Italian
- exploring Utah in an RV
- reading all of Jane Austen (never have!)
- learning to line dance
- taking a calligraphy class, or ceramics, or photography or...
- taking a cruise to Alaska or...
- visiting Venice?
Yup, if not now, when?
Have really been chewing on the question of when enough is enough. And wouldn't you know it, in the midst of all my considering, observing, deliberating, pondering - I came across two seemingly opposing points of view.
The first, on a tv show on the local education channel. The topic - simplification. The premise - that we have too many choices, more choice with less available time. The solution - reduce the number of choices by resisting advertising, shopping where there are fewer choices, and creating and following few and simple routines.
The second point of view, from a book titled life is a verb. The topic - living more intentionally. The premise - that we limit ourselves by doing and thinking the same things, playing it safe. The solution - every day for 37 days do something that takes you out of your comfort zone. See a movie you wouldn't typically consider, listen to music you wouldn't typically choose, try a new restuarant, learn about a topic that challenges your current thinking, etc., etc.
Too many choices? Not enough? What's a girl to do!? Well, I really hate either/or. So in the spirit of both/and, my solution (at least for now) is to significantly limit the number of choices related to material "stuff" by simplifying our environment, limiting spending, developing simpler household and personal routines...while ALSO listening to music I'd never entertain before, taking a drawing class, reading genres of writing I've avoided in the past, trying out alternative routes, even cooking occasionally!
And...so far, so good!
"Judge a man by his questions, not his answers." - Voltaire
Love this quote, and love a good question. One that provokes deeper thinking, a challenge to static opinions, a quest for new possibilities. Especially, of myself. Questions that further understanding and new learning. Sometimes I go in search of them. Other times they pop up at unexpected times and from unexpected sources. Usually, they serve me well.
So, I find myself pondering several questions regarding this issue of considering alternatives:
- Why can/do I generate alternatives more easily in some areas of my life than in others?
- Why is the generation of alternative approaches or possibilities so satisfying in itself?
- Do I/when do I hang out in possibilities to avoid a difficult decision or to avoid having to take action?
- What criteria can I use to judge when/if I have too many alternatives to consider, or, conversely, too few?
- I dislike, even distrust, either/or thinking - is this at the heart of why our political "debate" infuriates me so much? Why I also see the polarization as frightening, rather than merely frustrating?
- Under why conditions am I willing to consider alternatives (whether opinions or recommendations) posed by others? Under what conditions do I shut down or dismiss outright? What are the implications - for me, for my relationships?
I want to hang out with these questions for awhile, just pay attention, notice, reflect. Not settle for the obvious or easy answers.
Normally reflective, I become even more so over the holiday and this year, having a nasty head cold, confined to bed or huddled under an afghan in my favorite recliner, I have given a lot of thought to this seemingly need/drive I have to create alternatives, to consider options, to seek other possibilities. Some of what I have to share will probably make anyone who knows me say "DUH, that's obvious! You haven't known this before?!" I have, but I don't know that I've considered some of the implications that have become clearer - and that I want to address. So, here goes:
- Being raised by strict parents and educated by even stricter nuns to think and behave by limited rules and imperatives, I resist anything that smacks of 'because I said so.' I particularly resist dogma and polarized options. Either/or, right/wrong, good/bad, all/nothing - too simplistic, too limiting. No wonder I have so little patience with our so-called political debate. Why I am close to despair about the lack of public discourse. Why I can't bear the talk shows, the political pundits.
- Conversely, my experience in the 60's, meeting foreign graduate students for the first time, exposed to alternative cultures, differing opinions in an atmosphere of challenging thought and long-held beliefs, I developed a deep appreciation for learning from and with others that persists to this day. Aha - so that's why I'm so pleased with the little book club I've found. The discussions there remind me of these earlier conversations.
- Later,trained in skills of critical thinking, committed for years to teaching youngsters to think critically, I love open-ended, provocative questions. I enjoy the process of examining issues from different perspectives, and see the cost to our reluctance to doing so in our public life.
- And, seeing alternatives and having several choices before making my own decisions has become my measure of personal success and independence.
All understandable, benign, certainly has served me well in difficult times. But I am seeing some of the downside...as I declutter, remove 15 books on the same topic, toss projects begun but incomplete, donate clothes I've rarely worn, contemplate yet another diet. And in the midst of it all, I came across this little quote, "Happiness is a place between too little and too much." So I leave this entry with the questions foremost in my thoughts right now...how much is too little"? How much is too much? When is enough enough?
It never fails to surprise me - the way an idea, a possibility, an alternative can sneak up on me, show up in the periphery of my vision, appear suddenly out of the blue when I least expect it.
For the past several years, I've taken this week to formulate goals for the coming year. Usually by arenas - health, relationship, work, etc. Or, occasionally by values - family, accomplishment, creativity, etc. This past year, I had one major, all-encompassing goal. Move to St. George, downsize, and reorganize our home. (Thrilled to say, I've/we've accomplished it.)
So what about 2012? What's next? And in the spirit of this blog, how might I approach goal-setting in a new way? I am slowly wending my way through old journals for insights and new possibilities, true, but that will take months to finish and a goal should be rooted in the future, right?
Then, quite unexpectedly, over a cup of coffee one recent morning, scanning a USA Today, a story caught my eye, a charming, inspiring story. The subject of the story, Jim Henry. He is 98 years old. And he has just published a book, In a Fisherman's Language. Amazing. Even more amazing, however, is that Jim was illiterate until he decided to learn to read and write - in his mid-90's!
"It's never too late to learn," says Jim. So, what do I want to learn about, says I? And the organizing principle for my goals for 2012 suddenly crystallized.
I'm starting with a bucket list, not of places I want to see, but of things I want to learn more about and things I want to learn to do. And from this list, I'm creating not so much a series of goals in the traditional sense of the word, but a course of study, my own syllabus. I don't know if this would work for anybody else, but for me this feels so right. Because, unlike too many of the goals of the past, goals driven by what I felt I should or needed to do, this I want to do.
My initial thoughts - choose a theme per month. To begin with, nutrition. I'm embarrassed to admit I know too little and genuinely want to know more. And learn about the state we live in, including take a trip to explore and become acquainted with it. Or World War II, or the 20's. And there are the Impressionists, and the classic novels I've not read.
And - what I want to learn to do or learn to do better - to draw, to make better use of the computer, to write more creatively.
An explosion of ideas, generated by a brief newspaper article. Thank you, Mr. Henry.
I've been giving a lot of thought lately to how I make decisions, particularly the big ones. Not just while rereading past journals, not just to understand for the sake of understanding. I know I've some big decisions ahead of me, foreseen and unforeseen. And I want to make them as consciously and effectively as possible.
In the past, I have been quite influenced, positively and negatively, by the perceptions and opinions of others. The usual cast of characters - parents, teachers, friends, authors. And the occasional stranger.
One in particular. A young woman who impacted the entire course of my life. Picture this - l957, Mid-west, Catholic all-girls school, sheltered girl from a strict Sicilian family, taking clerical courses to become a secretary. Enter a young woman asking to give some IQ tests to juniors for her masters degree thesis. For some undisclosed reason, I am selected to participate.
After the test is completed and scored, young woman asks what I intend to study in college. "Who, me? College? I'm not going to college." The young woman, aghast, "But you have to. You're too bright not to."
Me, stunned. No one had ever called me bright before. She persisted, speaking to the nuns to support the idea. Offering to speak to my parents on my behalf - did not take her up on that one! And the more she persisted, the more an idea that I had never entertained became a possibility.
So, I summoned the courage and went directly to my father, who, somewhat stunned himself, said, "Why would you do that, you're just going to get married and have a family. Besides, we can't help you. Any money we can spare has to be set aside for your brother." Remember, it was l957!
But the possibility had become a dream and with it came a new possibility. I could make a decision that my parents did not support. The rest is history. How I was one of only a very few of my class to enter college on graduation. How I earned my own way, becoming the first woman on both sides of my family to get my degree. How I went on to get my masters degree.
Certainly, I will never know what my life would have been like had I not met the young woman, had I not gone to college. But to quote my favorite poem by my favorite poet, Robert Frost...
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference.
So, however much I research and contemplate alternatives, how much I seek the wisdom of others, I hope I never forget to stay open to the insights and inspiration of total strangers.
