One month into retirement and I’ve noticed a number of things. First, it’s not immediately an easy thing to grasp. I mean, as I said many times leading up to it, it’s like that comedy line about skydiving: “Who jumps out of a perfectly good airplane?!” In keeping with that, my thought was, “Who walks away from a well-paying job with great benefits?!” I mean, I was blessed with a good income, benefits, AND a pension. It was a gig that took care of me well. I worked hard to keep it, and when you have to officially say, “I’m going to hang it up,” it was not easy to grasp the reality of what that meant. There was never really any doubt in my mind I would do it as early as I could. The Fisherman has a heart condition that got our attention a few years back and it made me realize the value of time. Do NOT wait to do things. To his credit and to the credit of his fantastic Cardiac team, The Fisherman has improved his health in a big way. But, as his doctor said, no matter what his vitals say now, he still has this condition, and always, technically, will and he will only stay ahead of it with the help of the doctors, the medications, and continuing to be disciplined with how he takes care of himself. That means time matters, so I knew I would retire as early as I could.
Second, the “vacant mind” as I call it, is also not an easy concept to take in. Not always looking out into the future and worrying about something else, seems so odd. “You mean, it’s ALL MY time? I get to decide everything?!” That is strange, but when you get to that first Sunday afternoon, and it hits you that you don’t have to start that “transitional thinking.” You know–where you go, “Okay, back to the office tomorrow: What am I wearing? Do I have a plan for lunch tomorrow? What do I have scheduled for this week?” it’s AMAZING to be free of that Sunday afternoon feeling! I find it a little sad that we have to retire to give ourselves that ease. I’m the first to say that I’ll confess to being of the generation that couldn’t find a work-life balance. Work consumed my thoughts most of the time. It always came first and being single, I could do that. Heck, when my mother had a stroke in the middle of a big work thing, I paused to think whether I really needed to go the hospital at that instant (A big THANK YOU to my colleagues who basically escorted me to my car and said, “You ARE going NOW! We’ve got this!”) The “Senior” colleagues I worked with and I all said we don’t know that we can honestly say the younger generations’ desire to have a work-life balance is wrong because we *get* it. We understand why they want it. They likely watched parents who didn’t have it. Our only question is: Can much of the business world survive that approach? It will be interesting to watch.
I also have experienced a few moments of guilt in relation to retiring. I know I’m so very blessed to be able to do it, and at times I’ve thought “Why me?” I know many cannot do it. At the same time, I will stand up for myself and say that I worked hard for it and tolerated a lot and sacrificed a lot. I gave it my all and happened to be in a position where I can retire.
My retirement “initiation” got a little bit of a slow start in that I had to have Mohs surgery for a Basal Cell Skin cancer spot on the upper bridge of my nose, just a few days into retirement in early September. Public Service Announcement here: Wear sunscreen, people! I’m very diligent about sunscreen, especially on my face, and even with that, I still ended up with something that had to be removed and I’ll admit that I wasn’t good about wearing sunscreen as a kid, teenager, and a young adult, so that’s probably what did it. I was very lucky: We got the spot removed early, and while I’m sporting about a 1-inch scar on the side of my nose, the doctors assure me that scar will fade in a year.
Speaking of doctors, that appears to be one of the *things* about retirement: Medical tasks and check-ups become almost a “thing.” With my surgical procedure and follow-up, and with some things The Fisherman had to do with his doctors, added to us getting our flu shots done, we chuckled over how we had a week or two where we were going, “Now do you have anything this week with your doctors?” The Fisherman (who has been retired now for 5 years) said, “Welcome to my world: Doctors appointments liven things up. It’s a lot of doing whatever I want sandwiched between doctor visits.”
Overall, though, I’m getting into my groove. We have an older Pug, as does our neighbors, and we’ve gotten into a little routine where we walk the “Pug Boys” together through the neighborhood. It hit me the other day, “Here I am, just walking dogs in the middle of the day, not a care in the world, and it already seems so normal to me. I’m GETTING this!”
The Fisherman and I also did a fun retired thing where we went to this little town that is about a 45 minute drive away to sit outside of a Taco Truck and have Street Tacos one afternoon. Just a random weekday thing. Just us two retired people sitting at a picnic table in the middle of work-week eating tacos, again, without a care in the world. THAT is the type of thing I envisioned with retirement and we did it!
The other thing I’ve thought about in the first 30 days of retirement is being 60 now. 6-0. I turned 60 just before retiring so I was still getting used to it when I stopped working. Birthdays don’t bother me. Hey, think of the alternative: Not being around to have a birthday. 50 was fine. Had no problem joining the 5-0 club, but 60 does make you pause, or it did for me. There’s no beating around the bush: It’s 60. I don’t see that as middle-aged any longer. I get advertisements now for “Senior Living Centers.” Soon, I’m going to qualify for those restaurant discounts! There’s a 6 in the front of that age number now. I’ve found myself going, like while watching an NFL game: “I could be his MOTHER, maybe even his GRANDMOTHER! <INSERT GASP HERE>” Gone are the days of going, “That quarterback is HOT!” Well, they aren’t gone, necessarily, but now it just feels a tad weird when that voice whispers, “Yeah but you’re 60, 6-0, SIXTY.” But hey, if you’re lucky to live long enough, it happens.
Now back to Monday Night Football and silencing that whispering voice that tells me I’m 60.
Observations on getting used to being one of those gray-haired retired people 