Now here’s the thing. Three days left to work ~ not just this week, but my career as a registered nurse is coming to an end. Starting tomorrow. And then I have vacation days ~ but I’m not going anywhere. My ‘Registered Nurse’ thing won’t be over until February 28, 2019.
How do I feel? Most of the time I don’t feel much. I get groceries. I do laundry. I pay bills. As any day wears on, little thoughts pop through my mind. Not very effervescent at all. More like a twinge with a different face to each twinge. A person I’ll miss, a situation we’ve dealt with together. Service to an underserved population by an excellent team ~ that I’ll no longer be part of. Often I wake up in the morning brooding over this loss that hasn’t happened quite yet. Once up and tired of my squirrel cage thinking, I wash my face and sit down, write out all of that drama and find the solution is to get groceries, do laundry, pay bills and in general get on with my life.
Don’t get me wrong. Retirement has been my decision ~ along with a little push from my last birthday. There have been many exciting pops and bright lights for a future without a schedule. Without an alarm clock. Any schedule will be designed by myself. And I’ve heard that I’ll be incredibly busy. Over the years, I’ve developed my own routines for a writing practice that I intend to keep and develop ~ giving meaningful depth to busyness.
So how do I really feel? Unprepared because of my lack of clairvoyance. Prepared. Because of family and friends who listen to my drama, offering hugs and perspective. Pool time gives me additional community while exercising my well worn self. There is the dreaded, sometimes, alone time which can, sometimes, be the tough one ~ definitely not insurmountable. After all I’m seventy one. Grown up. Mature. Right?
“Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things
have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.”
~ Rumi, The Essential Rumi
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