A Blessing for One Who is Exhausted

“…There is nothing else to do now but rest and patiently learn to receive the self you have forsaken for the race of days…

You have travelled too fast over false ground; and now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up to all the small miracles you rushed through…

Be excessively gentle with yourself. Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.

Learn to linger around someone of ease who feels they have all the time in the world.

Gradually you will return to yourself, having learned a new respect for your heart and the joy that dwells far within slow time.”  – John O’Donohue

There comes a moment in the life of every little old lady in waiting to consider the merits and limitations of retirement, il dolce far niente (the sweetness of doing nothing – English translation…taking time to smell the roses). Perhaps it’s just a whisper inside yourself for now, that smiles a knowing smile on sunny days that seem too precious to trade for mere money; or maybe, like me, that whisper has mutated into a belligerent bitch who wins every argument and laughs openly at your attempts to ignore her. The truth is that the voice within always knows best. Once you entertain the notion of retirement, it establishes a little foothold somewhere between your world-weary gut and your hard-working heart. It grows strong on a steady diet of IDGAF workplace disenchantment and a flirtation with a trending new prescription known as self-care. The decision, once taken, is definitive.  For this little old lady in waiting, it is time to retire.

Two months shy of 59, I have traded life hours for money for almost 45 years now. I have had a long and varied work history and worn many different hats in my career.  I’ve worked in libraries and restaurants, offices and classrooms, hotels and bars, hospitals, bookstores, and teashops, and even from the comfort of my own home while freelancing and raising my kids. I have, overall, enjoyed my working life and all its compensatory gifts. My mind is most at peace when engaged, and so work has been my ally all these many years, my morning coffee, my daily talk, and at times my evening companion as well.  If I factor in all the extraordinary humans I have met along the way – the work wives, the confidants and confessors, the friends who carried you on the hard days, and allowed you to carry them in return; it’s clear that work, for most of us, is a lot more than what we produce with our hands and minds, it’s also a journey into each other’s lives in a very real and lasting way. 

Work has far more value than whatever dollar amount that magically appears in our bank accounts every two weeks, so whatever it is that starts you down the path to reclaiming your freedom, it’s important to consider the metrics and logistics very carefully.  Are you absolutely sure that you’re ready to embrace your freedom, because I think we all know why the caged bird sings. Agendaless days and a wide-open appointment book can be a bit overwhelming for the uninitiated.  I mean, when is the last time you asked yourself what it is you would like to do today?

Let me be frank, a practiced readiness and a thorough accounting of your life goals is an essential prerequisite to any serious retirement discussion. What price freedom?   How grand a lifestyle does your current salary maintain?  Does your retirement require the maintenance of a cottage, a boat, travel, seasonal wardrobe revitalizing, adult children, aging parents?  Maybe your only essentials are a good pair of walking shoes, a library card, and the company of someone who can still make you laugh.  I fall somewhere in between.  My non-negotiables include a towering TBR pile of books, a pickleball squad on speed dial, and the occasional stimulating conversation.  I can make do with two out of three in a pinch.

The decision to retire is hugely dependent on how much your work adds or detracts from your life. I have friends working well into their 60’s whose work transforms and inspires them:  artists, chefs, academics, writers and makers whose work is so intrinsically a part of their lives that retirement would seem a sort of death, at least of the spirit. They are the lucky few. I have other friends, smart and autonomous, who make their living comfortably ensconced in their own homes, using only their brilliant minds, and lifting no more than a finger or three to upload their work. At the top of their monetary game, “why on earth would I ever consider retirement,” they cluck. Huge monetary earnings … minimal effort… bit of a no-brainer really. 

For everyone who feels fully engaged in their work, who love the role they play in their workplace, and who might even feel lost without their work, I say play on.   But for those other friends, no less successful in their chosen fields, who count the days and the dollars needed to free themselves from the alienating chains of industry, or those who spend even one of our apportioned days contemplating a life more fully lived, I say retire and God’s speed. 

My own decision to pull the retirement rip cord was ignited by a few seminal life events including a devastating personal loss, and an injury that necessitated a protracted period away from work.  The first put me in touch with my own mortality and taught me that time, specifically time with loved ones, is the only real wealth. The second provided a safe space to test drive what a life free of the shackles of gainful employment might be like.  It did not disappoint.

Earlier this week I retired from a position I have held for over a decade as a Palliative Care nurse.  In that time, I have watched hundreds of people die and, of late, anecdotally at least, it seems I have nursed a great many little old ladies…in waiting.  None of the patients that roll down the hall onto the Palliative Care unit are ever truly ready for what comes next, even those with significant disease burdens and those who have been unwell for a long time.  It always takes these brave souls a bit by surprise when they come to fully understand, that they are living their last days and hours, that they are lying on their deathbed, where they will take their last breath.

It has been a great privilege to attend the dying in their last days of life, to understand the absolute value of time through their eyes, and bear witness to their unspeakably beautiful, quiet acts of courage and grace.  Despite every small aortic tear my work has cost me, to stay present and care for my patients and their families, they have paid me back a thousand-fold in what they have taught me about life and about death. Nothing is promised.  There is only now.

If you’re a little old lady… in waiting, like me, then maybe it’s time to explore a life unfettered by labour, or, at the very least, time to ask yourself how it is you’d like to spend your days in the last quarter of your life.  If you’ve grown weary “running up that hill”, it might be wise to have a listen inside yourself, a little away from the madding crowd, with time and space to hear what you’re thinking in there. Steal away with me awhile.  I’ll be sat low to the ground somewhere near the sea, with my dog and a flask of tea, looking out on the water’s unknowable depths and meditating on a fine line by T.S. Elliot, “to make an end is to make a beginning.  The end is where we start from.”