Push Me, Pull Me

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 On 18th June I reached my 11th anniversary of retirement. In previous years I've always tried to post a reflective blog entry, checking in on where exactly I am on this long journey of exploration. This year, it simply was not possible.

Retirement has always presented itself to me in staged phases. They have not always been immediately recognisable  but with the benefit of hindsight I know that I have moved from the honeymoon period of  frenetic, hamster-wheeling energy to something slower and more appreciative. I've tried to embrace new experiences and freedom, avoid stress and make the most of every option, creating opportunities for travel, simplification, well-being, creativity  and joy. There have been downtimes but growing resilience has always pulled me through and I've learnt to embrace the quiet interludes as well as the busy ones.

A year ago, I was sharing little pearls of wisdom as I'd reached what seemed to be a contented phase of retirement. How quickly things can change and why did nobody ever warn me about the maelstrom of stress and demands that have now descended. Intergenerational pressures have been building as I share time between my grandchildren in London, but also am called upon to provide more and more for "Mam".

Unlike the strains of a challenging work environment, I have now found obligations that cannot be resolved by retiring and nor have my powers of resilience developed sufficiently to enable me to cope easily. The all-enveloping responses of guilt and duty descend together with self-neglect, hopelessness and anger, not least at a failing social care system. 

One day I shall write a blogpost about the pitfalls of dementia but for the moment it is too early. In the meantime, I can only breathe deeply and concentrate on what I can control. Some things, of course, are easier said than done.

Image by William Pomares from Pixabay 


 

 

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