It’s December 23, 2015, and in 7 days I will be formally
retired from a nearly 50-year-long work life. So far, it’s okay. I’m likin’ it.
Because it’s nearly Christmas, not much has changed. Working
in higher education, I’ve become accustomed to the ebb and flow of semesters,
summer teaching, and holidays. This feels like most Christmas breaks, with one
exception; there’s no voice in the back of my consciousness reminding me to
write my syllabi for the spring semester, set up an assignments calendar, and
make sure that textbooks have been ordered. Well, the voice is actually there,
I’m just ignoring it and smiling to myself.
I really didn’t realize how burned-out I was after this
year. The combination of guilt because I couldn’t do enough to teach my
students, guilt because I couldn’t spend more time with my grandchildren, guilt
because I couldn’t volunteer more, and all the other sorts of guilt that women
of my age accumulate, finally caught up with me. I’ve taken the past two days
to sleep late, move slowly, read deeply, and think, and I think the healing
process may be underway.
How to heal from a lifetime of work? Well, for me, more
work. But it will be my kind of work, my choice, my pleasures, my places.
Instead of tap-dancing my way into the psyches of students who haven’t read a
book or written an essay in years, or maybe ever, now I can write what I
please. What will that be? I’m not sure yet. It will probably change daily. But
whatever it turns out to be, I won’t have to rely on it for a living. For years I have encouraged students to write
as a method of learning; now I have the time to use that method myself. I am
committed to life-long learning, so this is just a continuation for me.
I’ve had several job offers, but I don’t know what they will
lead to. I want to test the waters, not get in too deep, not become overwhelmed
once again. So from here on, it’s one day at a time, baby steps into an unknown
future.
The best is yet to come!
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