This time of year, I would normally be fretting over all the things I didn’t accomplish over the summer. August always arrived much too quickly, school started much too soon, and I’d wonder how an entire summer disappeared while half my to-do list remained untouched.
This year is different. There’s no back-to-school countdown hanging over my head. After 35 years, I’m retired, and in theory, I should be planning all the things I’m finally going to do with all this newfound freedom.
There’s just one small problem: my body did not get the retirement memo.
Right now, I’m in a holding pattern.
So many well-meaning people have told me about jobs I could do, people they know who could help me find something, or opportunities in my new area. I genuinely appreciate the concern and the desire to help. But I think there’s still a disconnect somewhere: I didn’t retire because I was ready for a new career. I retired because I am physically unable to work right now.
My immune system is essentially waging war against its own country, and unfortunately, I’m the country.
What I would love to do is take a trip to celebrate the end of a 35-year career. Go somewhere beautiful. Sit near the water. Raise a glass to surviving more than three decades of work and toast whatever comes next.
But I’m not healthy enough to travel.
Yet.
I’m holding on to that word.
At the same time, I have to be realistic. My doctor has been very clear with me: there is a strong possibility that I may not get better, and right now our focus needs to be on making sure I don’t get worse. That’s a difficult thing to hear when you’ve spent your entire life believing that if you just work harder, push through the pain, and keep going, eventually you’ll come out on the other side.
For years, pushing through was practically my superpower.
Now I have to learn that sometimes strength looks like not pushing, and that is a difficult concept for me to wrap my brain around.
So I’m resting when my body tells me to rest. I’m saying no when I need to say no. I’m learning that taking care of myself is actually something I’m allowed to put at the top of the list instead of somewhere near the bottom after everyone and everything else has been handled.
I appreciate everyone worrying about what I’m going to do next. I really do.
But right now, getting healthier is what I’m doing next.
I’m giving myself grace that the only things I have done since retiring is dye my hair blue and get a new tattoo.
This past year kicked my butt physically, emotionally, and in about a million ways I never saw coming. I lost pieces of the life I knew, and I’m still figuring out what this new version of my life is supposed to look like.
It’s going to take some time to put myself back together.
And for once, I’m not giving myself a deadline.
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