Retirement is a funny thing, no? At least in the United States. We tend to define ourselves using our roles as boundaries. Walls. Reference points. I’ve spoken about this before, but it bears a quick mention. Oh, and I’m not just talking about professional roles, so don’t get your knickers in a twist.
When people ask us who we are, we tend to lead with WHAT we are or WHO we are to others. You know how that goes.
Tell me about yourself.
Well, I’m a mom/doctor/lawyer/secretary/waitress/cook/grandfather/etc.
Right, but who are you?
Um, what?
What is right. Our identity is firmly imbedded in how we spend our time and the vocations and pastimes and people we are devoted to. Thus, when we start to move away from those endeavors or something happens to shift that paradigm, it can be jarring.
You may think you know where I’m going with this line of thinking, and I think I’m about to disappoint you or maybe even anger you a little. Or maybe, just maybe, you have some sense of it, because you have already guessed that I’m a long way off from retiring myself, which means that this can’t be a first-hand accounting of the experience. Either way, I’m going to make it crystal clear for you.
Retirement doesn’t just impact the person who is actively engaged in the life milestone, but everyone around them. Yes, that’s right. You read that correctly. I am indeed making it about me. Is that so shocking? This is MY blog after all. What better place to make things about me, no?
Within the span of two years or so, my parents both retired and then my boss of over a decade. I was truly excited for each of them for a variety of reasons. One, the obvious bit, is that I adore them. When you care about someone, it’s nice to see them reach a goal. Retirement is indeed a goal, a luxury. It is not something that everyone has the ability to do. In fact, I remember hearing on an NPR program some time ago that nearly one quarter of the United States has no retirement savings at all. Who knows where that statistic is today?!
Directly tied to the first point is my second, which is that I know my parents and my boss worked their asses off. Retirement was not a stroke of luck or something handed to them. They worked tirelessly throughout their lives and that hard work has enabled this departure from their primary profession (sort of, but more on that later). Again, it is not always the case that hard work results in the ability to retire, but for them, it did, and for that, I’m glad.
Although various professions have “typical” retirement ages that are tied to the type of work, I can assuredly state that the three individuals I’m speaking of retired at what is considered a very standard retirement age. What’s my point? Well, the first selfish notion I had was the awareness of their stage in life. The whole mortality business. Given how much I care about these humans, I am thoroughly disinterested in contemplating how much longer I’ll be blessed with their presence. Don’t misunderstand me, as I see them around for a very long time from now, but it just made me aware of this new phase, so to speak. You know what I mean. I want them around FOREVER. Retirement age means forever is a slightly different number. That’s all.
Also, because I’m an overly sensitive human, as has been thoroughly documented here, I worry about them. I’m well aware that they’ve lived longer than I have and I’m not intimating anything otherwise. I just don’t want them to feel unplugged, unappreciated, or irrelevant. I don’t want them to feel like they no longer have contributions to make or a viable opinion.
This is something we get so wrong here in the U.S. We marginalize and abandon our older folk. We treat them as feeble-minded burdens. What a crock of shit. That’s our gold, people. They are assets that we can’t place a true value on, no matter how we try. Want to debate critical race theory in our schools (argh)? Well, I’m not sure how you expect to even understand it without the benefit of those who lived in it. Need to understand the fluctuations of the economy? You can ask a twenty-something year old to pull up charts on a computer, but I’m awfully fond of hearing about the ebbs and flows through someone who experienced it. Environmental issues, politics, religion, food, etc. Don’t tell me that you always know more than everyone who’s been there and done it. That’s pure silliness.
Where my parents are concerned, I get to spend a little more time with them. They are working part time jobs connected to their chosen professions, but life is slower and freer, and that presents opportunity and for that, I’m grateful. Where my boss is concerned, it’s different. I want to end on that note, so I’m going to fold down the corner of that page for a moment.
I am going to tell you to step outside yourself and pay attention to your people. There is great joy in the ability to retire, but there are challenges too. Emotional minefields. I’ve seen it. It can be glorious and also, depressing. Celebrate someone’s transition into a new phase, but also, ask them how they are doing. Don’t stop asking their opinion or requesting that they share their point of view. Not just as some act of kindness, but because there is great value in securing information from folks who have lived. Really lived. Yes, you can Google shit, but to what end? You’ll end up with a bunch of aggregated data. I’m sure it’s useful but also, it’s data. Reach out to an actual living, breathing human. Do it because it will enrich you. If you open yourself up, you will learn something. Also, who the fuck decided that people wanted to stop learning because they’ve retired? I intend to learn until the last breath I take on this earth, and I assuredly inherited that trait from my beloved parents. You know what I’m saying, right? Just be a human.
Okay, I’m going to end this on a high note. Or a low note. Or maybe one in between. I am selfish. Not often. Not usually. But here, I am going to be entirely selfish. You remember when I said this is MY space, right? So, I get to say that I am devastated that my boss is leaving. He isn’t leaving actually. He’ll be around in a different capacity, and as I suggested above (as I do adore practicing what I preach), I intend to bug him all the damn time, soaking up every bit of knowledge that I can. That aside, it’s different. It will be different, and I’m conscious of that difference. In the most basic sense, change intimidates me. In the bigger picture, I hate letting go when something seemingly works.
Things have not always been easy. Hell, you know I’m not easy. BUT, at least from my pedestal, the good far outweighed the bad. I was given autonomy and opportunities and chances and the most important, faith. I had someone who gently nudged me out of the nest and said give flying a go, if it doesn’t work out, we’ll figure it out then. I needed that. I always have. Once I get OUT of the nest, I’m at 100%, but before, I need belief in me. I need reassurance to fuel my courage. Once I have that hand on my back, I am a relentless and determined person, but I like to feel those fingertips there. Ghostly little jolts into where I’m meant to be.
I had a situation that I will not get into (as you know I’m not interested in revealing certain confidences), where I decided to speak to my former boss. When I was sharing the conversation with my mother later in the evening, she asked what I expected to be done. You know what I said? Nothing. It just made me feel better. She asked me why. Why, in the face of nothing changing, would I feel better? Easy. Simple. A supremely reasonable person who had taught me so damn much sat across from me and listened to my story and agreed. Maybe not with everything, but with the stuff that mattered. A proverbial ‘atta girl’. Don’t tell me you never need that. We all do.
Even though I intend to sneak those conversations when I can, I know that they’ll be fewer and for that, I suppose I’m a little sad. A lot sad. And yet, I’m more grateful than anything else. At least I have something to miss, right?
So, tell your people they mean something. Learn something from them. Don’t think your cup is too full. If your cup is spilling over, there’s likely a heap of ego in there somewhere, so dump it out and start over. Seek value in all the places it exists, obviously and less so. Thank the universe for those moments and for these people.
Every day.
All the time.
Forever.
L.
P.S. This post is dedicated to my endlessly patient mentor, JJB.
thepathtoworthy.com 