The Skeptical Retiree

After finally unloading the RV, putting the bikes back together, setting up our lawn chairs and having an early dinner, we fell into bed, exhausted. As soon as I woke up the next morning, and while Bob was still sleeping, I laced up my running shoes and went for a jog. I discovered the pools and tennis courts, the hotel, the restaurant and a building identified as the Activities Centre, making a mental note to come back later and investigate. As I continued on, I passed the bocce ball, shuffleboard and pickleball courts. The endorphins flooding my body made my spirit soar; I felt free! There were so many opportunities to explore, and all were within walking distance, or a short bicycle ride away. I could come and go on my own. I could be independent again.

When Bob and I returned to the Activities Centre, we discovered a calendar of daily events posted on a wall-mounted bulletin board. Every hour of every day featured  recreational and social activities for every interest.  Most required no entry fee, welcomed beginners, and could be attended on a drop in basis. My home-away- from-home was its own self contained village offering more pastimes than I could possibly participate in. Or, I could simply lie by the pool and relax, if I felt like it.

We filled the next month sampling many of those activities, meeting new people, attending neighbourhood happy hours, discovering the surrounding towns, and just generally enjoying ourselves. We found that American and Canadian retirees mixed well as we shared a common denominator: everyone was happy and carefree. There was an unwritten rule in our international community; politics and religion were off limits  for discussion. No one wanted to introduce conflict into our otherwise peaceful environment.

And so the weeks went by: Bob played golf, I learned to play shuffleboard, and we made friendships that have become long lasting. One morning the calendar flipped over to February, and in what seemed like the very next morning, it was March. A heavy black stone landed in my stomach and dragged it down toward my toes. I didn’t want to go home, I wasn’t ready! The ugly weepy me, who had accompanied Bob to Texas many months ago, was back.

Having meticulously crafted my retirement plan last fall, I had left nothing to chance. A colleague/friend was holding a part time nursing research position for me. It had been an exciting offer; exactly the field I was interested in, and on a team led by my respected colleague. The whole idea of it now left me feeling nauseous..

In these past months, I had forgotten all about my former work life. I hadn’t had to carry a beeper or a cell phone, hadn’t raced from crisis to crisis all day, and frankly, hadn’t had to worry about a single thing. I’d learned to enjoy getting eight hours restorative sleep each night, a daily schedule that could be altered on a whim, the spontaneity of going out to lunch on a moment’s notice, and sitting poolside with a novel and a cold beverage at any time of the day. Without willing it, I had morphed from a Type A personality into a relaxed, carefree, de-stressed retiree!  Did I really want to go back to that former life?

All the way back to Canada, I agonized about re-entering the world of work, even on a partial basis. I felt deep sadness and guilt knowing I’d lose my friend if I didn’t fulfill my commitment to join her team. In the depth of my soul, I felt I would also betray the former me, that high achieving and highly driven professional woman whose identity I had worn as a badge of honour. But after days of soul searching, I heard that woman tell me there was no turning back for me.

As I round out my tenth year of retirement, I have no regrets. I’m a Winter Texan now. I can’t really say what I do all day but it takes me all day to do get it done. That’s exactly how I like it.