I woke with a very welcome resolve this morning. For some reason, that’s been lacking lately. I’ve been busy enough: last week, Iengaged social media to support my sister’s activism and, with my husband, enjoyed four days with our Nine-year-old granddaughter and then hosted a sleepover for a Five-year-old g’daughter and her Three-year-old brother (that’s a quick sketch of them, below — they can sit at the table drawing and singing for such a long time, quite contentedly — unfortunately, they seem incapable of holding any position for longer than the time it takes to get a few pencil lines drawn!).
But I used that busy-ness as an excuse or reason to let other priorities slide. Combined with the pall of smoke we’ve been living under — and the accompanying health dangers of the very poor air quality — I didn’t manage to get myself to the gym once last week.
We did get out on our bikes a few times, however. . .
And I managed a few sketches during the week, some of them–as above–the “homework” for an online course I’m following (Stephanie Bower’s Perspective for Sketchers).
I even made a batch of sourdough bread — rosemary-olive, something I’ve been wanting to try for a while. . . (and then decided I’d better show you the progress I’ve made in getting the bread onto a piece of watercolour paper (see photo at the bottom of this post) — that loaf was disappearing quickly!)
Oh, and there was some light reading and too much viewing of Offspring–considerable couch time, in other words.
None of which sounds particularly lazy, I can see as I write this. None of this sounds like someone who’s stepped a bit too close to the swamp, the “slough of despond.” There are weeks when this activity would feel entirely sufficient, when I’d feel quite pleased with myself, content. . .
But for me, last week, these activities were most notable for either providing their own momentum (as, most obviously, the grandkids!) or requiring very little start-up energy for me (building the levain for the bread — 25grams sourdough starter, 70 grams water, 70 grams flour, stir together in jar, leave on counter overnight). They jump-started my own weak battery and, once in motion, continued to charge it up (whether or not you’re just going through the motions at start-up, the tactile/kinaesthetic aspects of bread-making, never mind the smell, nourishes the spirit long before the bread is baked and cooled enough to nourish the body).
For me, last week, these were not activities that required much resolve at all, and I will admit that I was hard on myself for not mustering resolve. A whole week without working out; a week without adding significantly to my memoir project; a week when the blog writing seemed lacklustre, merely reportorial.
But then yesterday, reading my friend Lisa’s post announcing the completion of the “Rough First Draft All Changes Merged” of her novel (a novel! an entire book!), I found this advice for those of us who might be daunted, temporarily at least, by some of our larger goals or expectations or demands:
move the goalposts towards you.
This whole post today is a retrospective moving of my goalposts towards myself. Closer goalposts might look like “Make bread, play with grandkids, bike with husband, sketch.” If so, then hey! I’ve scored a few times. . .
And hollering a “Woot-woot” or two might just fortify my resolve to get back to those more challenging priorities.
I haven’t quite got at what I wanted to when I began writing this (something more existential, frankly, which would probably have wearied you anyway, something about our/my age, about the post-retirement need to supply my own purpose, declare my own worth, organize my own days, in the absence of job description and paycheque). But I have got myself to the gym this morning, and I’ve written this post, and I’m determined to add another 500 words to my long-form project before the day’s over. (also resolving that, should I not manage that, I’ll shift my goalposts a bit closer — some days, just opening the Word .doc file counts. . . .)
There you go, then. That’s this week started. . . .Comments? Do you have days or weeks when you find it hard to muster resolve for priorities beyond the daily? Are you kind to yourself — and how so — at those times? Which are the activities that are toughest for you to move into when you’re feeling low? And which are the ones that, once begun, help to charge your battery back to fuller strength? Finally, if this question of resolve and goals (and moving goalposts) resonates for you at all, how much is it affected by your retirement (or how do you anticipate retirement might affect it)?
The sky is blue today! That helped me to take the dog out. It's easy to let M. do it and I do enjoy a walk. I've enrolled in a writing workshop which involves guided writing and some camaraderie so hopefully I'm going to write more. I slip easily (I think) into despondency and subsequent irritability so I do need to schedule my time. The goalposts are always changing but at 66, I realize that opportunities do not last forever. September is a time for recommitment.
Although the air quality still isn't great, it's so good to see the blue sky again (although I'd take grey if it was accompanied by more rain).
I'm curious about your writing workshop–how did you find out about it? I wonder if you'll write about it on your blog — I'll keep an eye out.
And yes, September is good for recommitment!
That finding purpose thing, creating structure, and setting goal posts can be tough. Especially when, even in retirement, even when the many demands of teaching are not taking up my time, I find it still slipping through my fingers. I'm with you, my friend. I've felt my summer slip away on me this year. Busy, busy, for a time, then for weeks nothing but trying to manage the pain and frustration of this darned shingles thing. We've cancelled three planned trips so far in hopes of salvaging Italy later in September. I keep saying to myself…."I need to get organized." Thirty years of teaching has made me love structure, even if it's of my own making, especially if it's of my own making. But I can't seem to muster the enthusiasm or energy these days. Still… new day tomorrow… said Pollyanna, Anne with an "e," and Scarlett O'Hara. Ha. Maybe I should start making bread!
P.S Your sketches must be so satisfying. You've inspired me to take up pencil again. Maybe when we get back from Italy.
P.P.S. One thing I do find discouraging at times is that I still seem to measure the value of my pursuits by how they're viewed by others. Can't seem to shake that. And when friends etc seem to view blogging as the same as Facebook posts… well that's a bit disheartening. Sheesh. Okay. I'm done. My whining about my very first-world problems is over … for today. xxoo
I can't imagine any good take-away from shingles — it sounds absolutely horrid! But it's teaching me — from a safe distance — to appreciate my own good health while it's here. More reason to harness some resolve.
It's surprising, isn't it, how busy we can be in retirement, and then how tough to sort priorities within that busy-ness — I'd guess that the shingles sharpen the sense of what it is you'd really like to be doing.
The trip to Italy, that's a big priority. I hadn't thought of it being jeopardised. I'll send more urgent healing thoughts your way.
Oh, I'm so with you on measuring the value of my pursuits by others feedback. And self-scolding doesn't seem to change that.
Sue,interesting how Frances and I were thinking and writing (I've lost the first answer to you) in the same time
I just wanted to say that,unfortunately,your summer was wretched because of shingles-but, pain,rush and inflammation of sensory nerves is exhausting and painful and you have to be patient -you need to take it easy for a while,to completely recover. This is called convalesce,not laziness. You will restore your energy,but it takes some time-so don't be too harsh on yourself
And you were blogging all the time-which was not easy,I'm sure
Hugs
D.
I heard an interesting podcast recently ("On Point"–often news, but also culture, books, etc.) about procrastination. "I don't procrastinate," I thought to myself. My mother, fearing failure, would never finish anything. In contrast, I get things done. However, the podcast hit me with this: urgent vs. important. I am very good at getting the urgent things done. I always turn in my work on time. However, that book I started to write? Not so much. The urgent things suck all the air out of the room. Of course my resolve will be put off by at least a week because of something both urgent and important: my kid is enjoying the final days of summer vacation and I want to be able to say "yes" to any activities proposed.
I love your photos and your sketches. You generate so much inspiration.
Oh, this is such a good distinction for me! Yes! And I recognize immediately that as well as rarely having missed a(n externally imposed) deadline, I can easily construe anything regarding my kids/grandkids into "urgent." If they're around, it easily justify attending to them and leaving my own "important" stuff around.
And — Big A-ha! just this minute, thank you! — I don't dare think my own writing is important. Hmmmm, going off to have a great big think. So you see? You generate so much inspiration as well.
Recently we have been in a slightly tiring arc of existence, mostly bound up with the needs and necessities of others. While I do not begrudge this, it can be rather draining so this holiday weekend – cold, constant rain, dull – I sat on the sofa for a day and a half and read solidly. It was extremely therapeutic. Yesterday I turned down the opportunity to do something that before I would have felt compelled to do, out of a sense of duty. I have also ignored the hoover. The house is in a state of flux and it can stay that way for a bit. Today I am off to my jewellery class which I have had to miss for two sessions. A couple of years ago this would have made me feel anxious and probably tetchy – I find I am much more able to roll with it now. Maybe it is the time of year, summer definitely on the wane, cooler and darker evenings to the fore. Maybe I have finally stopped trying to be all things to all people, something which has always ended with me tied up in knots and others looking on, vaguely perplexed. I'll tell you (confidentially, natch) what has really brought this home to me: the prospect of old age, laid out before me in all its sadness. I also echo francetaste above in many ways. Time to make coffee. This is an interesting discussion. Thanks.
The prospect of old age, yes! And some days, not merely "the prospect of." Some days it feels as if it's already arrived. . . Some vacillation — or oscillation, perhaps — on my part between acceptance and resistance, which might be what's manifest in the resolve. . . or not. 😉
This bread is so real….
You are a very busy woman,with a lot of interests -your days seem so full of happening,you do a lot of things – you deserve to rest
I am very kind to myself recently-I usually have a lot to get done,sometimes a tight schedule (also with some work that's pleasure,and some socialising that feels like work ),so,I'm happy to find time for leasure (or put some rest and reading in my schedule-it is very important and restorative for me).After retirement,I've got used to alternative curve,with a lot to do and lazy days. I love lazy days (this temperatures over nineties were very exhausting-so,only necessary was done) ,but after some time,I'll start making new plans-if they lasted to long,it is difficult to start again
And I have to quit "trying to be all things to all people" ( nohatnogloves,thank you very much for this)-it makes me exhausted,physically,emotionally and mentally
Dottoressa
Thank you for saying the bread looks real — It's not bad photographed from that distance. You should see the one my GF made when she gave me a quick lesson on painting bread — but they say Comparison is the thief of joy, so I guess I shouldn't go there. . . 😉
You always seem to have so much activity in your life, such a rich social network. Lazy days would be absolutely mandatory in the summer weather you've had, only swimming allowed as an activity, and even then, mostly just floating. . .
This is my first year post-retirement (8 months in). At the beginning of this year I gave myself permission to do what I wanted when I wanted without guilt or trying to meet the expectations of others, other than regular things like making meals (although that can wax and wane), basic housework, and handling the finances. And for the most part, I have been able to do so. I do respond to some familial calls for help with grandchildren, but I do not wish to become a regular babysitter, because I simply don't have the energy/desire to keep up with babies and toddlers as I near seventy. Fortunately, my children (mostly) get that. As an introvert, I have reveled in time alone (DH still working). To simply be. To read. To write. Funnily enough, one of the most frequent things written in my journal is gratitude for this time of non-demands. My job was stressful; badly impacted by office politics and by national political idiots which left me angry all the time (more for clients than me). It has taken me quite a while to unwind from that anger though I still carry some of it. So I am on a slow roll in retirement. While I don’t plan to write a memoir, I am spending time learning more art techniques and other creative endeavours. And reading, reading, reading. I will not to allow myself or others to diminish my worth simply because I am no longer in the work world.
We don't have to live in retirement as though we were still going face a critical annual performance review. And if we are somehow doing that to ourselves, then the question we have to ask is: WHY?
It sounds as if you've been very wise in your entry into retirement. It's surprising how long it takes to find a rhythm after decades of building a schedule around external demands.
I started formal, pension-earning work (was self-employed, teaching music, while raising our four) much later than my husband, and I was still happily working when he was ready to retire. I have sometimes wondered what it might have been like to have that time alone for a year or two. Enjoy it! "A slow roll" sound just right.
I hear what you're saying in your closing paragraph, but the other side of that is that I've always reviewed my own performance, not necessarily annually, but I've set goals and held up standards for myself throughout my life. I've never wanted to respond only to external bodies. And that's not going to change now, but I might have to have a chat with my boss and tell her she could lighten up a bit . . . move the goalposts, maybe. . . 😉
I am happy that moving the goalposts was maybe useful. I will say, your capacity to keep the goalposts high and far sometimes makes me do more than I otherwise would. Win-win.
I should have said "inspires" me to do more. Leading by example.
xo
I can be hard on myself – although I think I'm a little easier than I once was. I am not yet retired and don't see that happening for a few years yet – when the time comes, I do wonder if I will have more periods of sloth than I do now! I know exactly what you mean – not always being able to muster the resolve to press forward. Could it be, in part, personality? I am a natural observer, thinker, ponderer – I can occasionally get lost in that space. And, maybe, I need to be lost in that space for a while before working out whatever it is and then being full of resolve.
I think you're absolutely right — being full of (purpose-ful, meaningful, resolve) really requires some of what might appear sloth-ful. All that observing and pondering. It's up to us, individually, to discern which is which and when and how much. . .
Lisa's advice is excellent! Recently, I received and am heeding some other excellent advice along those lines:
1. Create your daily schedule with more "padding" — every to-do and task takes longer than you think it will. Even transitioning from one task to another takes time. Allow for that.
2. If you can't work on something for an hour, do it for just a few minutes, giving it ALL your attention while you're doing that.
3. Our lives will never, ever be perfect, organized, optimized or free from surprises. So relax into and welcome the chaos that life often is. Even welcome it.
I'm feeling very woo-woo these days. 🙂
Ann in Missouri
All good advice — And hooray for the woo-woo!
I second the confusion of the first year of retirement. A ridiculous amount of my time (in US) has been taken up trying to find a decent health insurance option and other paperwork as well as some sorely needed house projects. Then hubby had minor surgery that ended with a drug resistant staph infection. Slowly, I'm beginning to carve out time for those projects I looked forward to, but it's harder than I thought. I need to establish some type of schedule so that advice here will be helpful. In the meantime though I just feel tired…..
I found I spent much time the first year in attending to so many things I'd let slide: dental and medical and social and mending and attending. . . . It's definitely harder than we thought to carve out time for those long-planned-for projects. Especially since it's hard for us — or for others — to construe those projects as carrying the same imperative weight as paid work for an employer, with its undeniable demands and deadlines. . . I hope the fatigue passes, though, as you begin to come to terms with the new time-space of your retirement schedule. . .
Every now and again I find myself in a state when I cannot muster the energy to go through my to-do-list of the day or feel like cancelling excursions or meetings with friends. Quite often this is accompanied by physical weakness, wobbly knees or headaches. When I felt like this while I was still working, it was easily blamed on too much work and too little time to recover. Now I think it may have to do with the goalposts I set myself (thank you, Lisa, for this image) and with my unwillingness to accept that the things I do voluntarily use up energy nevertheless.
I have not yet found a secure way out of this state. Sometimes the key is surrender. I just have to wait (reading, sleeping, with a little walk now and then) until it passes. Last time, it was my yoga class which put me together again.
I love your sketch of the bread. At first glance, I thought the bread was floating above the paper, reminding me of Magritte.
This is what resonates with me most, from what you say here: "my unwillingness to accept that the things I do voluntarily use up energy nevertheless."
I think I've tried to say something similar here before, but for me it bears repeating again and again and again. . .I should print out your words right now and stick them up on my fridge: The Things I Do Voluntarily Use Up Energy Nevertheless. . . (have you ever heard of "Spoon Theory"? — Christine Miserandino used it to explain her lupus-related energy limits, but it applies to most of us at different times)