The Self-Induced Stress Poltergeist of Early Retirement
Woman staring into the light
In the transition from a career in K12 education to the "calmer" and “more creative” world of early retirement, I stumbled upon an unsettling revelation: my stress didn’t dissipate; it morphed into a raging mental poltergeist because ALL OF ME came along for the ride. This understanding culminated when my CPA recommended that I keep my online University gig—a steady source of income and stress for 22 years—while my Psych NP advised that I quit that job AND OTHERS immediately. Financial health; Mental health.
My Psych NP said–shockingly–that I am engaged in Self-Induced Stress. WHAT!? No way. This can’t be my doing. It’s gotta be money, money! It’s gotta be demands and needs and responsibility!
So, I took stock of my work activities in retirement:
Online University—Teaching between two and five comp classes at all times; 7-day a week commitment; approx 25 students per section.
Wellspring Classes and Workshops—Teaching Online and In-person sections; Sunday Community Writes; Monthly soirées. Workshops and presentations at Richmond Young Writers, Quarry, Local Libraries, and conferences.
Weekend Retreats and Editing Work—Planning and leading retreats. Starting a Literary Journal. Editing novel, memoir, and poetry manuscripts. Creating video scripts for National organizations.
Creative Pursuits— I strive to carve out time for my memoir and poetry, to read and learn about music and art, to grow as a person. These are where I expend the least amount of energy.
Ok….so I see how maybe I have control over that schedule, and by extension, my stress. But can I let go of the financial security that allows me to pick up a few things at Target without checking my account balance first? Or allows me to offer scholarships and sliding scales for my classes ? That maybe even allows me to drive the new vehicle I purchased in November.
The ability to indulge in simple pleasures and to give back to the community without the specter (real? imagined?) of financial ruin hanging over my head, is hard to shake. And for a life-long workaholic–how do I define my existence if I am not working all the time?
But it’s all coming at a cost.
Early retirement brought: High Blood Pressure. Insomnia, nervous tics, difficulty of focus, “what the hell, I lost weight without thinking about it?” more more more
With three hours on Saturday to “do nothing” I decided to clean my office, but it was overwhelming–too many stacks and piles. So I didn’t clean and I didn’t rest; I froze.
In that moment, I questioned everything. Every possession, commitments I can’t shake even when they bring me zero joy or meaning, the relentless pursuit of...what, exactly? Money? Never a huge priority for me. Reputation? I didn’t worry much about that before. Identity? Perhaps.
I feel like a relic of my former self, unsure of who I am beyond the roles and responsibilities I accumulated over the years, but now I act them out on empty stages, believing that an audience of elitist critics waits to judge me, but they do not exist—they just dance in my head.
Last Thursday, a familiar stirring found me when I led the first night of my Sharon Olds’ class. One of the attendees rightly noticed that not only do I often quote Olds, but that my business carries the name of one of her books—Wellspring—and, well, some things came full circle. Poetry–one of my first passions. Olds–one of the first poets to reveal to me that you can write ABOUT ANYTHING and do it WELL. And I LOVE HER. I love to talk about her work. I love that both times I met her for extended periods of time she was a little kooky, and I found an angel at my car each time I left her.
I love to talk about poetry. I love to listen to other people’s interpretations. I love to share poetry. Not just Olds, but she’s a great start. And that helped me feel more excited about the rest of the Wellspring Writing Collective in general—I’m going to exorcise that Stress-Poltergeist with POETRY!
People have told me in recent weeks that after engaging in a class or a retreat or an editing project with me that they’ve “felt heard more than they ever have before;” that they’ve extended communities and friendships built on retreat connections; that they have “learned more from [me] in one editing session than from an entire class.” I’ve been told that I am part of many people’s chosen family. I’ve been told that “It’s a pleasure to work with a teacher and editor whose desire to uplift comes through so clearly.”
I want to uplift. I want to hear people in ways they have not been heard before. I want to show new writers and established writers how to tighten their prose and elevate their vehicles (of language.)
A little plaque near my computer reminds me to Remember Who You Are ; this message used to inspire me. Now it pisses me off. I don’t know who I am; plus, every time we remember who we were, we change ourselves–the memory, the history, shifts. Perhaps it’s time for a radical shift to that standard fiction prompt of "What if?"
What if I lead a life on my own terms? What if I prioritize my well-being over my workload? What if, in this chapter of my life, I look forward, and allow myself the freedom to explore, to create, and to live without the self-induced poltergeist of stress?
I know that is WAY easier said than done, but I feel the call to simplify, not just my physical space, but my life. First step—I gotta let go of the financial weighted-blanket, embrace some uncertainty, and rediscover the joy of living–whatever that looks like in this rendition. This is my new beginning, and it’s time to make it count.
The Rapture
by Lisa Loving