First, let me say that I am honestly happy to not work. After 30 years of mostly corporate work, I do not miss it one bit. I had a conversation with a former workmate, and I said, “whatever I do next? It has to be fun.” Enjoyable.
So, here I am just acting like a retired person. Doing things I enjoy. Helping my mom. Taking afternoon naps. But slowly, the anxiety is creeping up like the tide. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a barrel that is slowly filling with water, and I only have one inch of air left. I have never been good with the concept of faith. Yet there is some invisible force that is blocking my mind from “work.” Not any work, but work for somebody else.
Here's what I want to know. Am I experiencing something normal for workers in their late 50s and early 60s? Is it common to be completely over it? Just used up and done? If it's normal, it feels fatal. We do not live in a world where people get to hang up their time card at 55. And with so much work moving to the digital realm, I personally feel like my mental age is closer to 79. I think my brain is turned into an old clunker. A space with with very little air left in the tank.
My only conclusion is that I need to be patient, and if not faithful, hopeful. Believe in the positive future. Don't give a shit what working society thinks. Know my worth. Know my knowledge. Be stingy with sharing it. Call myself “semi-retired.” Be honest about how I feel. The world wants me to say I'm great and that I can't wait to work for it. That would be a lie.
I can see the B.S. in a lot of things these days. I don't need to pretend I don't see it to save my paycheck. I suspect there are many people just like me. I need a goal, so this week's goal is to find ways to be helpful without calling out the crap.
I could also try bravery. I don't need to let anything run past me. I can grab it. I can pop the lid off the barrel and swim towards the horizon. And I can feel some comfort in knowing that I am not the only one feeling this way. Maybe I do have faith in my own balance. I always land on my feet. I'm just not ready to jump.