Category: Learning

I wrote a post in October about the struggle to let go of the idea my life is only as good as my achievements. Here it is December, hardly long enough to make a batch of kimchi, but with every day that passes, I feel less tethered to success. I like it.

After retiring last year, I was happy to be done with my career but still felt driven to do something exceptional, something amazing to prove I’ve still got it. I had a million thoughts going in a million different directions. It’s not enough to retire and simply enjoy our joblessness. We must reinvent ourselves! Organize our frugal lives! See the world! Change the world!

But the weight of these expectations during my first year of retirement left me anxious and exhausted. Couldn’t I just calm down, think before I leap and accept I had a great career and my reward for hanging in there is a great life? What if I just focused on what feels good and see what happens?

A weight was lifted once it occurred to me I did not have to reinvent myself. I’m surprised by how quickly the idea took hold. Maybe I just had to say it in my outside voice.

The thing is, I’m still doing freelance work, but the idea of a real job is not the slightest bit appealing. Never say never, but I can’t imagine going back to all that – although I certainly don’t plan to wither away doing nothing.

In addition to my recreational pursuits, I’ll continue to use my skills and talents and make a little money, but I’m not feeling motivated to do something exceptional. It’s not about standard definitions of achievement or success. It’s more about intellectual curiosity and social interaction. And a little cash doesn’t hurt, either.    

As I worked through this drama in my head, I told Dale I would get a job, but I can’t work Tuesdays or Wednesdays, because that’s when I play golf. And I can’t work Mondays in the summer, because that’s when I play golf in the mountains. Maybe Mondays in the winter but not if I take up cross-country skiing. Reading, cooking, long walks, sometimes more golf – that’s what Thursdays and Fridays are for.

As you can see, I’m kind of busy.

Please say this isn’t a passing fancy. Retirement was an opportunity to jump the track, but I didn’t do a very good job of clearing a path for the freewheeling journey of my dreams. I just jumped to a new track. My brain was saying, “I will continue to succeed at something, damn it!”

Until proven otherwise, it appears I’m experiencing the joy of being trackless. But I’m curious about other retirees. Are you ambitious? What motivates you? Have your goals and ambitions evolved over the course of your retirement?

I feel so helpless in the wake of current events, in the wake of evil, but I did vote, and I did my best to put people in office who will help us overcome this horrible culture of hate. As I read through accounts about the horrors in Pittsburgh, I saw another article where Hillary Clinton seems to be toying with the idea of running for president again.

I’m a liberal Democrat, but I have Republican friends, and I think there’s one thing we might all agree on: Hillary needs to bow out. I thought I’d drop her a note. Can someone please see that she gets it?

Dearest Hillary,

I have always admired you and happily voted for you in 2016. I was also a fan of Bill’s, despite his wayward behavior. You were a good political team.

But the time has come to tell you to go away. I wanted to see you president, but now I want to see you gone from the spotlight. I don’t mean that in a harsh way. Sure, you’ve made some mistakes, but the hatred many feel for you is completely undeserved. Let’s face it, you are polarizing. Educated people voted for Trump because they couldn’t stand you. I don’t get it either, but there you have it.

You said you’d still like to be president, but for the greater good of kind and caring people everywhere, please let go. This is an intervention – let go now! Stop dreaming about what might have been and what could still be. If you are your party’s nominee in 2020, we will undoubtedly end up with Trump again. Nothing could be worse for the future of our nation and the world at large.

Good job! Has anyone told you that? You were awesome. You still are, but now you need to find another way to express your awesomeness. The single most important thing progressive Americans can do is vote amoral politicians out of office and elect a leader who can bring us together and save this country.

I know it breaks your heart to hear this, Hillary, but it’s not you.

Thanks!

Donna

With lots of hobbies and interests, I figured I was immune from the threat of losing my sense of identity in retirement. I’ve read this is common among men, but as a career woman, I suppose I’m equally at risk.

While it’s true I’m not bored, and I don’t miss the job or the stressful lifestyle, I do feel a sense of loss. Much as I like the writing of Brené Brown, who says we are enough simply by being, I’m never enough. I’m having a hard time letting go of the idea my life is only as good as my achievements.

I sometimes lack confidence, but I make up for it (or compensate for it?) with deep internal drive. One could argue I have a lot of baggage to unpack, but I like to put a positive spin on my shortcomings. My drive is the fuel that keeps me going when others run out of gas.

The writer Edna Ferber said, “Being an old maid is like death by drowning, a really delightful sensation after you cease to struggle.” I’ve wondered if that philosophy can apply to the loss of identity in retirement. Should I just chill out, enjoy what time is left and start the slow slide into the great unknown?

Probably not. I do not believe I’ve reached my full human potential, and part of me says never surrender. But another part of me is open to the idea maybe you have to give up who you thought you were to become who you are supposed to be. Maybe retirement was the only thing that could push me out of my comfort zone and into a future that is beyond anything I dreamed of.

Whew, kind of deep, but I think about shit like this when I am supposed to be sleeping. I’m not sure where I will land, but I suspect balance is a good thing to strive for in retirement … I do want to appreciate my perseverance and be all I can be, but I also want to enjoy the gift of life with no strings attached.

Although I feel under-accomplished, if I really think about it, I’ve done a lot in my life. Overcame a slow start in childhood and served in the Armed Forces, married for love and still at it 40 years later, graduated from college, earned a good living using my skills and talents, lost 60 pounds and kept it off, survived cancer twice and retired at age 62 with enough savings to live modestly without working again.

Make a list, and you’ll see you are more accomplished than you think.

I’m just entering my second year of retirement. The first year was a period of adjustment with no alarm clock and the joy of being free from all the crap that goes on in the workplace. This year I want to focus more on my transition to Donna 2.0.

In Donna 2.0, I see my tenacity as a good thing, my superpower, that can help me live a long and healthy life. But I’m not going to let it fill me with illusions about what it means to be successful. Maybe I’ll just take that word out of my vocabulary and use my superpower to liberate me from my own expectations, to do what feels good and see what happens.

Starting today! No lists, no goals. Just cupcakes.

Dale and I are among the mighty few who still subscribe to a newspaper – two, actually. The local paper used to be somewhat renowned, but times are tough for newspapers, and our daily read is pretty skinny. We also subscribe to the paper copy of the The Washington Post, which provides broader coverage.

We still go out to the driveway to pick it up. Our current delivery person is excellent – the paper is always there way before 7 a.m. I will be sending a holiday bonus. A previous delivery person was habitually late, and I would be camped out in the driveway pacing and waiting. I called and called until finally someone more punctual took over.

In my infinite generosity, I give Dale the front page first. We pass sections back and forth over the breakfast table, sometimes interrupted by our cat, who loves to sit on top of whatever you are trying to read. We both love the food section. I read obituaries and advice columns, and I seek out crossword puzzles and all variety of what might be called soft news. Dale calls it fluff. If the section is called Style or Entertainment, I’m in.

However, Dale religiously reads the comics. Every single one of them, even the ones that suck. I don’t read the comics. It’s some sort of impairment. Against my will, Dale will read aloud from one of the strips, trying to make me see the humor, and sometimes I actually do.

For example, Dale told me about a line from the comic strip Pearls Before Swine. In short, after a discussion about all the things we eat that aren’t good for our health, the character in the strip says he does it anyway.

“Because life is an amusement park.

And while you’ll stay there longer, all the rides will be closed.”

I laughed out loud, but damn, that hits close to home.

Then it was my turn. From the fuzzy animal section, I shared news that a female lion in the Indianapolis Zoo killed her boyfriend. Or mate, or whatever they call him. The father of her three cubs. They’d been together eight years. As I read it to Dale, we learned it was highly unusual for a female to dominate like that, and they don’t really understand what happened.

Dale said he probably left the toilet seat up.

Our local paper also reprinted a feature about NPR’s Terry Gross originally published in The Washington Post. The interviewer said, “You’ve interviewed tens of thousands of guests. Can you share any advice from any of your guests that has particularly affected you?”

This was her response:

Live your life, live your life, live your life.

She said it was a quote from Maurice Sendak, who was nearing death when he said it. She continued:

I do that mantra a lot. It’s just so easy to get caught up in the problems of day-to-day life, that you forget to kind of pull back a little and put everything in perspective and realize it’s the only life you have and make the best of it.

I like my shrinking morning newspaper, those little bundles of fun. Dale and I enjoy the experience of exploring it together. Even if we zip through the newspaper in 10 minutes, the morning doesn’t seem complete without it. We learn new things, sometimes we get mad and we almost always laugh.

All journalists make mistakes from time to time, and certainly there’s bias, but I don’t believe journalists are the enemy of the people, and it’s not fake news. My thought is to pay attention, read broadly with a discerning eye, slow down to enjoy the fluff and live your life, live your life, live your life.

As you may recall, I was fed up with politics and last Thursday drove six hours to visit my sister for a long weekend of fun. Whilst searching for music channels to pass the time, I happened upon a special NPR broadcast of the Kavanaugh confirmation hearing!

Yes, I listened to most of it, including Brett’s opening monologue and the Lindsey Graham tantrum, until the Redwoods began to interfere with the satellite, and that made me mad, because I wanted more.

Then I got to Cheryl’s house, and we watched more. I lamented one of my new golf buddies didn’t know who Ruth Bader Ginsburg was, and my sister thought I was too picky about golf buddies, possibly friends in general. Lots of wonderful people don’t care or don’t care to know, and there’s something to be said for focusing on health and happiness.

However, my health and happiness is somewhat contingent on having a voice. I welcome people who disagree with me, but I can’t stand to be squelched. Just to stir things up, I’ll be reprising my RBG costume this year for Halloween, this time with a dissent collar I ordered from Etsy.

Dissent seems to be building up in me, but that might be the boof talking.

Cheryl was kind enough to provide The Great British Baking Show for editorial relief. The hosts come across as kind and supportive – a pleasant alternative to the hearings. I’m a fan now – Paul Hollywood – why, I’d change my name to that! I’m team Prue. Loved her style, especially her glasses, although I liked Mary Berry well enough. As I understand it, Mary is a legend.

Oh, and it’s like a whole different country over there. Oddly named baked items I have never heard of. Jaffa cakes. Bedfordshire Clangers. Biscuits are cookies. Stodgy is bad. There’s even a little sexual repartee. What fun! Did you notice I used the word whilst at the beginning of this post? I might just start speaking with a British accent.

Later, I heard my sister laughing in her bedroom, and I said, “What was so funny?” She had watched the first episode of the new Murphy Brown. I was prepared to hate it but found myself laughing out loud. Of course, the show speaks to my left coast liberal perspective, and even my cloudy view from inside the bubble tells me it would not be entertaining to those elsewhere on the political spectrum.

In all fairness, I didn’t find Corky’s menopausal hot flash jokes to be funny, but that might be bitter leftovers from my own experience, which was simply not amusing. Oh, and Tyne Daly looks fabulous – makes me want to cut my hair and add a streak of pink.

See how easy it is to get distracted?

That’s a good thing, although I’m an unrepentant news junkie. I am a journalism major, after all. At 63, many of the issues that affect women of reproductive age don’t affect me, but I still pay attention because I care in the global sense. We can’t be so myopic we only care about ourselves.

Or can we? Think global, vote self-absorbed? Just wait and see how riled up I get when they go after Social Security.

Although I find myself passionately interested in current events, for the most part, I have been largely uninterested in writing about them. At least for now. That’s the good news. The bad news is, what’s left? Bladder control?

I wondered if I could change – settle down and go gentle into that good night. But I’ve discovered now that I’m retired, I have more time to stay abreast of issues, and I rather like being well-informed. I want to stay engaged in the important topics of the day, and I may write about them from time to time.

Or I may not. The freedom to decide what I say and what I write about is a huge perk of age and retirement. I used to worry about representing my employer, and now I represent only me.

First rule of order is to keep my head from exploding. We’ll see what happens after that.

I’ve been reading and thinking and getting angry and sad about sexual misconduct and the long-term consequences. I said to Dale, I’m so lucky I was never physically or sexually assaulted. Then I thought about how sick and wrong that is – assault should be an aberration not the norm.

There was a time in the Army more than 40 years ago when it seemed a close-run thing. I don’t remember the exact year. I don’t remember the month or the weather. I would have been 18 or 19 years old. I know I was in a small apartment in Germany I shared with another female soldier. She was out for the evening. We had only one humongous key, and I left it in the door for her.

Bad judgment on my part, for sure. I was in bed asleep, when all of the sudden I felt someone tugging at my feet and heard a man’s voice saying, “Sugar, sugar, wake up.”

My scared shitless strategy was to pretend I was still asleep and hope he went away, but he persisted. “Sugar, wake up now.”

I don’t know if it was bravery, stupidity or panic, but I bolted up in bed and said, “I don’t know who you are or where you came from, but you get the fuck out of here now.”

He backed away, and said sorry, sorry, I thought you were someone else. I said I don’t care who you thought I was, you get the fuck out of here now. He looked up in surprise and said, “Oh, you, I’ve seen your pussy before.”

Then he turned around headed for the door. He paused in the kitchen and said, “Your icebox is open.”

It was one of those funky old iceboxes you had to push hard to close. I was still in bed with the covers pulled up tight, and I said, “I’ll close it after you leave.”

I really think it was a case of mistaken identity, and the man was not out to harm me. I didn’t tell anyone, and I didn’t report it. I moved back into the barracks.

The stakes are low for me. I was not sexually assaulted. He didn’t pin me down, and he didn’t put a hand over my face to shut me up. It was just a man who found his way into my bedroom, wiggled my foot and and said something crude. I don’t have to convince anyone I’m telling the truth. No one is clamoring for details. No one’s reputation is on the line.

All I know is 40 years later, I will never forget the fear. That’s why I believe Dr. Ford.

I’ve been off the grid for the past week or so visiting family, and I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit I’ve missed my retirement routine. Travel feels more like work. Plus, visiting family typically requires my auxiliary power, which can be exhausting.

Dale and I saw a good bit of the world when we were younger, so we don’t have a travel Jones like many retirees. We’re pretty much homebodies.

Part of being a homebody is the pleasure of sleeping in your own bed and eating your own food, and that’s probably what I’ve missed the most. I also like setting my own agenda. When I’m on the road, I find it’s easy to get sucked into doing stuff I don’t really want to do.

I suppose there’s an upside to getting outside your comfort zone, but in my first year of retirement, I’ve been sort of selfish and all about my personal comfort. Maybe playing well with others will come later.

The other thing about travel is watching money fly out the window. Airfare and meals out add up. We have a slush fund so we can enjoy a trip without worrying about money, but I still hate spending it. We had a horrible meal at the airport, and I won’t even reveal how much it cost. On the other hand, we’ve had a couple of nice meals out, so it’s not all bad. Still, I’m cheap.

All in all, it has been a good trip, but I’m ready to go home. I miss the kitty, although the cat sitter texted a picture of them practically smooching, so I’m not sure he misses us.

I admire the retirement road warriors, but that is not the life for me. Which one are you? Homebody, road warrior or something in between?