By Landis Lain I woke up every day with my mind on my grind. Hustle, earn, save and accumulate. My work ethic was unstoppable and my mission was untouchable. Until COVID-19. The past three years were stressful downright disrespectful to many people. Tragedies, financial setbacks, and health challenges all around made it tough not to pull the covers over my head and stay in an imaginary cocoon, blocking out the greater world. Nobody bring me no bad news, please. I was over it. I developed senioritis. Was it the memes telling me that we work thirty-forty years, retire in our sixties and die ten years later? Was it my friends and family who didn’t live to retirement age? I asked myself, ‘why aren’t you going?’ How much longer are you going to live? Gulp! Out of the turmoil came an epiphany. Time to hit the reset button.
We all work our whole careers to someday retire and live the life we had always dreamed about. I wanted to be free to exercise naked under a caftan on the beach, travel to see sights I have not seen, write bestselling romance novels and scathing political commentary. I need to read all the books on earth. Lofty goals. Travel takes funds. Books are costly. That beach dream, whoa.
For two years I wrestled with whether should I stay or should I go. Not because I didn’t love my job. The law was and is a great career. My boss was stellar and the work environment felt safe. Had we saved enough, invested enough? Is family okay? Had I done all that I could do career-wise? Did it matter? I was ready to move on. It’s a blessing to be able to retire. I wanted to spend more time with family; to be done with the grind. To enjoy my home. I finally made the decision to take the leap. When should I leap? I was scared. The other side of gainful employment is frightening.
Gathering my faith, I held my breath and… leaped. I dove into the ocean of new possibilities. Did I cry? Nope. Did I have a party? No. I extended best wishes to my favorite colleagues and dog paddled quietly into the dusk.
The first day I rose from the bed. I didn’t have someplace to be or something to do. I did not turn on my computer. I did nothing but gaze at the waves. No more business suits. No more hearings. No more meeting with members of the public to listen to problems that I may not be able to solve.
I emerge from the surf of old accomplishments and celebrate opening a horizon filled with opportunities to become fit, fine, and free. I exhale. I am still a bit scared, but as I emerge from the surf of uncertainty I am thrilled to explore drag my toes through the sands of new opportunities, explore exotic unknown worlds, and boldly reach for new horizons.
