I have talked a couple times about establishing our creative identities, and how we can redefine ourselves for the next stage of our lives.
I firmly believe this is both possible and necessary for our well-being. It allows us to be our authentic selves, and not a role defined by our job or our social position. We are no longer defined as “Susie’s mom” or “the nurse on third shift.”
This isn’t always as easy to learn as it sounds, however, and that point was brought home to me quite dramatically just a few days ago.
As I have said before, I spent the last 22 years of my career in the accounting office of a resort hotel. I sat in an office overlooking the Pacific Ocean and handled the financial records of a hotel, restaurant, and lounge. There were around 100 employees at any given time and in my tenure I got to know all of them. Some of them were there when I started, some came later, but I knew everyone in the building and interacted with many of them on a daily basis.
The view from my former office. I realized I had a LOT of sunset pictures, but in my defense the windows faced west and sunsets were pretty photogenic!
I wanted to include this shot just for the novelty of snow on the beach. And the fact that there isn't a sunset in sight!
In short, the resort was a second home with an extended “work family” that I knew and liked. I belonged.
Even my leaving was like a child moving out for the first time. I left, I visited a lot at first, then I moved back home and interacted with my family intensely. Finally, I left again and moved far away.
Recently I visited my old home and realized I no longer belonged there. I had lunch with the friend who now has the job I left, in the dining room where I had eaten so many lunches over the years. I was even waited on by a server I’d known for over a decade.
But this time it was very different. There were employees I didn’t know, and who didn’t know me. I couldn’t assume that everyone would know who I was and I couldn’t wander through the “Employees Only” areas without someone questioning why I was there.
It was kind of like visiting your family after being away for a long time. The furniture has moved, or been replaced. Your old bedroom is now your dad’s office or mom’s sewing room.
You no longer belong.
For me there was an additional layer of disconnect.
For my entire tenure we had plans to remodel the accounting office. But because we were not in a public area, and because we were functional, we were always a discretionary budget line item.
As the financial watchdogs we prioritized spending, and always placed our hidden corner of the building low on the list. There was always something more important, and year after year we put off major work.
Finally, though, the remodel moved up the list and work started this spring on a complete gutting and rebuilding of the offices, including an expansion into some adjoining areas.
The new offices are going to be amazing. The day I was there I got a tour of the nearly-completed area with my friend who will work there. I cannot express how pleased I am for them that they will get to work in a completely rebuilt office with new furniture and fixtures. It’s a beautiful space.
This is where we started. We'd made a few changes over the years - adding shelves, ripping out water-damaged carpet - and there was always that spectacular view which offset a lot of the other issues.
And it truly is no longer my office. Absolutely everything about the place has changed. Walls moved. Windows replaced. All new furnishings.
Mom’s new sewing room, Dad’s new office, was nicer than my childhood bedroom had ever been.
It's not complete in this picture, but you can see how lovely the new space is. They extended the room onto the balcony (visible in the before photo) and knocked a doorway through into a portion of the room next door. The new windows are smaller but the view is still spectacular. It's going to be a wonderful place to work.
Honestly, it was a gut punch.
I’ve left jobs before, and things changed, sure. But this was the longest I had stayed in one job and I guess I never expected it to change quite this dramatically. Somewhere deep and unacknowledged I still held a connection, a reassurance that somehow I could always go home again.
This wasn’t a gentle reminder that I was retired; it was an ice-bucket-challenge-level dose of reality. The resort, the company, the people – they had all moved on without me and I was no longer a part of them.
I can’t say I coped well with the impact this had on me. I felt lost and that feeling stayed with me for far longer than I would have expected, and I haven’t yet recovered completely.
This is the lesson I am having to learn, and one that most of us will face. No matter how much we want our retirement, no matter how much planning we do, no matter what safety nets we put in place, there are going to be times that reality sneaks up on us and sucker punches us.
I don’t have any real answer for this one, but I am trying to work through the conflicting emotions and to reaffirm my creative identity. I am unpacking my reactions and looking for ways to better handle the issues that have come up.
I am reading back over the posts I made about identity, and trying to internalize (once again) those lessons I thought I had already learned.
That shiny new office with the beautiful view looks oh-so-good and the siren call of all the up-to-date equipment is tempting; but it isn’t for me anymore.
I need to remember why I made this change, and how far I have come in my creative journey – and how far I have to go.
It’s time to move ahead, and as Thomas Wolfe said nearly 100 years ago, truly You Can’t Go Home Again.