Apparently, One Day Has Arrived
Finding my way back to writing as I find my way into retirement.
So much time on my hands these days. I spent today reading some of my old writing material. Most were stories I wrote for expat magazines, Facebook pages and our charity foundation blogs, some as far back as 10 or more years.
Some made me laugh. Some made me remember people and situations I hadn’t thought of in years. A few surprised me because the person who wrote them sounds very much like me today. And in other ways, she seemed like a stranger from long ago.
Reading them reminded me why I used to write in the first place. I wasn’t trying to become a writer. I was sharing stories that touched my life. Things that made me laugh, made me angry, made me question my beliefs.
Sometimes writing helped me process what I was experiencing. In nursing school, we learned the importance of self-reflection. It was one of the most valuable lessons I took from the program that has helped me in many areas of my life. It taught me to question my beliefs and challenge myself. To acknowledge what I believed while staying open to other people’s belief systems. I see that peppered throughout my old writing. Sometimes I didn’t realize what I’d learned until I started writing about it.
And somewhere along the way, I stopped. Other words left unfinished along the way. Life got busy. Work got demanding. Volunteering took over my life. There was always something that needed my attention. Like most things we put down on the priority list, we tell ourselves: next week, next month, one day, when I retire. And just like that, we run out of excuses.
Well, apparently one day has now arrived.
I’m newly in my 60s and, for the first time in decades, I’m no longer employed. Even that sentence feels strange to say. I collected my first CPP cheque, another milestone with bittersweet emotions attached.
For 23.5 years, I worked for the same company. Work owned my days, paid the bills, gave me independence, challenged me and frustrated me. It introduced me to wonderful people and not-so-wonderful ones. If I’m being fair, it probably occupied far too much time and space in my head once the 40 hours was done.
Now I’m getting that time back. Learning a new way and routine around that has been an interesting process. I began journalling about retirement to process the jumble of feelings it brought to the surface. In the end, I’m both nervous and excited about where this leads.
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I’m not worried about finding things to do. I have enough personal interests to fill several retirements.
What I learned from reading my old writing is that there have been some profound changes in me during our move and transition to life in South America. This leaves me curious about who I will become in this next chapter. What will stay the same, what will change?
Maybe that’s what Morning Spot is about.
It’s my favourite place where I sit in the morning with my coffee, my journal and the view of the Andes Mountains. It’s where I’ve been learning to slow down, something that doesn’t come naturally after decades of a get ’er done attitude.
It’s where my thoughts and feelings tend to show up when I just sit and be present. That’s hard for me.
So I’m going to start being more still and sharing those experiences, as much for reflection as to see who out there may find that my experiences touch them in some way.
Some stories will come from my life in Ecuador. Some from the past. Some will come from figuring out retirement, aging, relationships, money, travel, spirituality and whatever else passes through my Morning Spot.
I don’t know exactly where this will go. I don’t know who will decide to come along for the ride. And I’m okay with that. Mostly.
I’ve lived long enough to know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. Every now and then, though, I’m exactly someone’s shot of tequila, and that’s a lot more fun anyway.
So here I am. Imperfectly honest about life and how I experience it.
Being sixty, retired and living in Ecuador feels like a whole new chapter. I haven’t had this much time to call my own since my directionless teens and twenties. Back then, I had time but no direction and thought I had it all figured out. I clearly didn’t.
So let’s see what happens in this next chapter.
