Remember the scene in "Alice In Wonderland' at the Mad Hatter's tea party? The March Hare and the Mad Hatter at a table full of whistling teapots, singing "A Very Merry Un-Birthday?"
Look out for this guy, and his un-birthday party. You may get an un-gift that messes up your plans.
Well, that's the state of my retirement. Or, as a friend calls it, my un-retirement. Yes, I have fallen down that rabbit-hole again. Or should I say I've fallen further down that rabbit-hole, because I never really got out of it.
A few weeks back I admitted that I was working for my old employer for a short time, helping out with a project and working remotely. That all changed a couple weeks ago when my boss- who had started just a few months before I retired-left the company.
Disrupted doesn't begin to describe the situation. Work had fallen behind during various shutdowns and re-openings. Some daily tasks were current, but there were critical long-term processes that were delayed by weeks and even months.
It was, in a nutshell, a special kind of disaster.
This is far too close to the real thing. It certainly felt like this when I walked back in the office.
Which also made it a challenge I couldn't resist. It was a rescue mission for which I was uniquely qualified, they were offering me a serious salary bump and the restoration of all my benefits, some nice perks, the freedom to set my own schedule, and the opportunity to sit in the Big Chair for a few weeks.
I agreed to come back while they (with my help) searched for a replacement. We are interviewing candidates, and my hope is that I will only work about three months before returning to retirement.
If I am completely honest I must admit I am kind of digging being the boss. I have proven to myself that I have the knowledge and stamina to do the top job, a job I didn't even apply for when it first came open. I have performed well beyond what I thought I could do, and that feeling of accomplishment is seductive-to say nothing of the financial boost.
I've done it by being onsite every day, and by working ten hours a day. I've done it by sharpening my focus and staying on task. I've done it by delegating-something at which I am not good, being more inclined to reason that it will get done faster and more accurately if I just do it myself.
Superman (girl) socks from the Las Vegas Sock Market. I earned these, but maybe not the way you think!
I want to believe that under other circumstances I wouldn't have been so susceptible. But the truth is that we are all, every one of us, operating from a place of extreme stress and uncertainty. Our sense of self, and of self-worth, has been battered by outside forces. We are all dealing with some level of PTSD. Except it isn't really "post" yet.
In the turmoil of the pandemic, when all my carefully-laid plans have been thrown out the window with no hope of restoration any time soon, a familiar job seemed like a welcome distraction. It promised a salve for my self-image that was suffering from the malaise brought on by the lockdown. More than what I have done for the job, however, is what the job has done for me-beyond the financial boost and the ego strokes.
It has reminded me why I wanted to retire in the first place.
Not for the travel that we planned. Not for lazy mornings with a good book and a cup of coffee. Not for the freedom from other people's schedules. Not for the ability to shelve the professional clothes in favor of jeans and sweatshirts. Not even for relief from those 10-hour days.
All of those things are great, don't get me wrong. But that isn't the greatest thing I will take away from these weeks.
The biggest thing this job is giving me is the message, loud and clear, that I want time to create.
I need time to create. I am happiest when I have a creative outlet, and my brain is engaged.
I know what a slippery slope this is. I am performing well, the boss has nicknamed me "Supergirl" for the help I am providing, and I enjoy my co-workers. I could fall back into the routine, into the steady paycheck, into the role of "Supergirl." I was #2 for twenty-one years, and the #1 job could be mine if I wanted it.
THIS is how I earned those socks. For my 70th birthday I promised myself I would "fly like Superman" on the Slotzilla zip line in Las Vegas. It was about four months before I got the chance, but it was worth the wait!
Oh, and I got a T-shirt, too. Because, really, I deserved both!
But what would be the cost?
Aside from dealing with the stress and exhaustion that are inherent in any job at that level-even without the rescue mission aspect-the biggest cost would be to my creative life.
When I work at a desk for ten hours a day, I don't have a lot of mental energy to devote to creating. In addition, I don't want to sit in front or a computer for any length of time. Eye strain and fatigue are real, and while I have recovered from the cataract surgery I am still adjusting to my "new" eyes.
It's not just my creative life, either. I have less time for household chores, for keeping up my Patreon page, for personal business, and the time and energy for those have to come from somewhere.
There are no housework fairies in my world (more's the pity) and the bathroom still needs to be scrubbed, meals still need to be prepared (though my husband helps a lot) and the floors need to be cleaned.
In short, I can feel myself back in the place I was before-wanting to be free to create but with exhaustion and stress draining all the energy I want to give to my creativity.
I don't want to be in that place any more, and a visit is serving to remind me why. It reinforces my resolve to fix the problems quickly, leave the place in good order, and make this a short stay followed by a permanent departure.
In some ways I am very grateful. This situation has shown me what I can do, reminded me of my value, reinforced my sagging self-image. But more important is that it has renewed my resolve to clear time and conserve energy for the things that really matter.
I will try to remember this lesson.
And if I don't I will come back to this post and remind myself how important it is to protect my creativity.