I have been having lots of trouble adjusting to retirement. I am 70 years old, and I know that I retired when it was time for me to move on to something else. But so far, I've been so caught by an identity crisis after "quitting" -- that I can't move on. I quit. And I had some good reasons for doing so. But that doesn't mean I'm sure what's next.
My job required a lot of travel -- I live in Northridge and I had to be in Sacramento at least a third of every working month, even though I was connected by computer, cell phone, fax machine, and every other more immediate method of staying on the job. That meant that I was away from home a lot. And although my dear husband was supportive and tolerant, it wasn't easy to have a sometimes-wife only sometimes in residence. This is an issue for lots of folks these days, and I hope that when you are young it is easier. But I doubt it.
What actually happened was that I spent a lot of time going between "venues." Sometimes I flew, sometimes I drove (and those driving times were best because I did have some time when I could reflect and review without too many interruptions).
The job was challenging. I was serving as administraor/chief of staff for 16 dedicated employees who worked for an employee union. And the organization was in flux. We were incorporating, and times were dicey. The structure under which we worked had been challenged by the biggest fish in the pond, and in order to survive we needed to protect our assets and our employees. My first priority was to make sure that employees were given reasonable work assignments and the best compensation I could manage. I did have to make some decisions that motivated some employees to move on, but that was because it was not a good fit for them or the organization. But that was my job. To protect and defend the employees -- to make sure they had the resources they needed to do their jobs, and to make sure they knew reporting lines and could not be pulled off base by politics. They had real, hard work to do -- defending employee rights, organizing, and making sure the members knew they were getting what they paid for.
There were some talented elected officers that understood what was important in terms of protecting and defending the structure that made all of this difficult business possible. Most were not concerned about their own image or their own time -- they gave freely of their expertise, were humble and passionate about the goal of gaining and defending employee rights, and worked tirelessly to make the organization strong and functional. I was proud to be part of that team.
I think what I miss most is being a part of that struggle, even though I know that it was time for me to protect my own family and my own health by retiring. The job I left was often frustrating, painful, difficult, but always worth doing. Was it appreciated? I think the staff understood what it took. And I miss them still.
"Move on!" I tell myself every single day. But when you invest so much of yourself, for so many years, that isn't easy. And I do still have opinions about what could be done to make things better, more workable, more productive.
I am coming to the realization that new beginnings are accompanied by a lot of loss, grief, and are tinged with some regret. Could I have stayed a little longer? Worked a little harder? Done it differently? Left with more grace and dignity? I'll never know. But I do know one thing. It's time to really close the book, and start another one.
