Retirement Rehearsal…

Tomorrow marks the beginning of the fourth month of self-imposed retirement. It’s been a bit of an experiment that’s garnered varying results.

Being at home reminded me of my days living in a small town where I watched my neighbor sipping coffee, looking out her window as I walked to my car to go to work. I envied her ability to stay home with the children, she envied my ability to get away and be in the land of adults. Neither lives were perfect but we could never fully appreciated what we had knowing there was an alternative.

Staying home intentionally this year was a mixed blessing. I worked at my domestic skills for about ten minutes. I made lunch for the eight year old and dinner for all (occasionally) struggling to remember some old standbys. It was hit or miss on the meal front but the laundry was almost always done on a regular basis, the dog got walked and the groceries were purchased but I never felt fully immersed in the life of leisure for many reasons.

1) I’m untrained. I have no idea how to budget time, organize tasks, and pace breaks without wrapping it around or incorporating it into a full time job. The lack of structure has me making up weird rules. I’ll watch 2.5 hours of TV starting at 12:30PM then I’ll do some writing. After TV I turn to my computer and check in on the Crazy Days and Nights blog, then Lainey, then more gossip sites until any task or schedule in my head has been erased and I look up in a panic to learn it’s time to pick up the eight year old at school. Time wasted: all afternoon.

2) I get more tense than when I’m working at a full time job and it paralyzes me. My brain gets so incredibly busy when it’s not focused. I spin. I have piled on all kinds of extra work that I can’t get to because I’m worried about it. Sure it’s volunteer/creative in nature but my ideas won’t churn and my brain shuts down at any concrete/creative thought. I don’t remember experiencing a ‘block’ like that before. If it was over and above a full time job my gears would be shifted to accommodate extra ‘stuff’ but with no structure my brain won’t let anything in, never mind process it. The false rules interject in my timelines and WORD stays open all day with cryptic, bullet points of what should be amazing ideas lined up like a grocery list. Bright and early tomorrow is when I’ll start. (It’s 9:41AM and I’m doing this instead).

3) Guilt is menacing. The break is partly medical, mostly mental and it’s completely the wrong time for me to not be working. We have bills left over from the reno and although the husband has been reassuring, it’s still not the best time to be off. Sure mentally if I had been working I would be curled up in the fetal position rocking myself to sleep every night. I have just not been capable of working and the guilt is crippling. It’s the worst kind of Catch 22. Work will make you crazy and you will be crazy if you don’t work.
4) I enjoy the pressure of cooking for other people but I can’t relax. Try eating something with the cook staring you down, anxiously pacing, waiting for any sign of a positive or negative response. I stand by with apologies and excuses at the ready. It would be an excruciating experience for the tester/eater. We don’t host a lot of dinner parties.

5) Germs keep finding me. It’s inevitable, the minute you get off the ride of working life the germs invade. I’ve had a month long flu followed by a couple of days off where the flue germs left and the cold/allergy germs took up residence and took over the lease. I feel like a walking bug motel, the NO Vacancy sign flashing. It’s hard to get anything done when your brain wants to sleep away the endless snot-filled throat-clearing.

6) The right stuff. Being on the right crack helps to see how much damage the wrong crack caused. It’s like cleaning up after an all night party. Sure it was good while it lasted but is it ever worth all the work required after WITH a hangover? The wine diet did not work. The eat-what-you-want-when-you-want diet did not work. The crying-and-complaining diet caused more problems than anything and the wrong crack made it all that much worse by adding another twenty pounds of misery. Pure, fat misery. The right crack has allowed one part of my brain (a small but chubby part) to focus on losing those pounds, but I’m still on my way back from the two years of semi-insanity. Imagine a hangover after a two year binge. It’s an exaggeration but that’s how I feel, especially because of #3.

I’m starting a contract on the last week of May and instead of relaxing and taking advantage of the time I have I’m panicking about all the things I promised to do for others like writing, some volunteer directling and apartment painting. Heck, why not add another few weeks of guilt and procrastination? Of all the accomplishments I wanted to attain during my practice run at retirement guilt and procrastination have become my greatest achievement.