Observations from the Invisibility Cloak

When I was 28 and writing poetry, I wrote a poem lamenting the feeling that I was invisible because I was no longer the youngest, cutest thing on the block --- and I had become a mother. Now I'm in my sixties and really invisible. And I like it!

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Retirement changes things

Suddenly I have time to do the things I've only thought about, or tried to fit into the corners of an over-full working life. 

I married a woman ten years my junior, though neither of us could be called a spring chicken.  Hot flashes.  When two people are having hot flashes at the same time, life gets interesting, especially when it comes to the thermostat, open windows and covers on the bed.  Mine were from age.  Hers were from breast cancer.  It all amounts to the same thing --- where'd the estrogen go?

Now I'm home in the daytime while she's still working.  Somebody, after all, has to bring home the bacon.  It's brand new, this retirement gig.  It won't last since my pension is really low, so I'll have to find some way to make money.  But for a couple of months, this is what I'm doing.  I'm staying home to write, to recover from the most stressful situation I've ever experienced, and to raise the puppy.

The changes are enormous already.  I'm learning to relax.  I can make decisions about how to spend my time.  Without the never-ending pressure of school work and unfinished tasks, I am able to sleep again, to read for pleasure, to follow my curiosity, even to "waste" time if I want to.  And I want to.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

I could love this!

In the midst of chaos and pain, new life is born.  I left my job 6 weeks ago to seek some sanity and mental health.  I tell people that I had a good, old-fashioned, nervous breakdown --- perhaps that's true.  The immediate relief of being out of the rapids and the whirlpool that is my teaching job, has deepened into exactly what I was hoping for, though I didn't have the words for it at the time. 

I wanted to find solid ground to stand upon.
I wanted to reclaim the quieter parts of myself.
I wanted to be able to see the wonder again.

When I left the building on January 28, though, all I wanted was to be able to stop crying and have my eye stop twitching all the time.  I would have settled for that.

This time has given me the opportunity to remember:

I am not my job.
It is necessary to sleep.
Relaxing is not being lazy.
I cannot singlehandedly save anybody, even myself.
Life without joy will become a life of burden, guilt, shame, and fatigue.

And that's only the beginning.

I named this blog "Winding Down" because I felt like I was winding down the career part of my life, headed into retirement.  Now it feels much more like "Opening Up"!