Endings as Beginnings
Thoughts on the Emotional Complexity of Aging
Endings as Beginnings
This is where your life has arrived,
After all the years of effort and toil;
Look back with graciousness and thanks
On all your great and quiet achievements
You stand on the shore of new invitation
To open your life to what is left undone;
Let your heart enjoy a different rhythm
When drawn to the wonder of other horizons.
Have the courage for a new approach to time;
Allow it to slow until you find freedom
To draw alongside the mystery you hold
And befriend your own beauty of soul.
Now is the time to enjoy your heart’s desire,
To live the dreams you’ve waited for,
To awaken the depths beyond your work
And enter into your infinite source.
-Irish Poet, John O’Donohue1
I stood in the center of our second retirement party for my husband Rob.
Surrounded by friends and family, I felt one strong emotion: stunned.
Is “stunned” an emotion?
It is to me.
Stunned is defined, “To stupefy, as with the emotional impact of an experience; astound.”2 Stupefy meaning, “to make someone unable to think clearly, usually because they are extremely tired or have taken drugs.”3
The surprising impact of this high-powered, emotional, transitional state leaves me “unable to think clearly—due to already living in a state of being extremely tired.”
Yet, even in this state of exhaustion, I find myself automatically thinking about starting “new things…new projects…new books…”
It seems my brain can’t help myself.
The automated process of a lifetime of “doing, doing, doing,” can’t shut itself off.
Or won’t give itself permission to shut off.
On the outside, I look normal—well, define “normal.” Upbeat, performer-Janell kicks right in.
On the inside, I press through in a flooded state of hypervigilance.
Even though I am truly so very, very happy for my husband and for our future, I find myself afraid, uncertain, and completely overwhelmed with it all.
When asked the traditional retirement question, “What’s next?” I freeze.
My honest answer is guttural, “I have no idea.”
So Late So Early
How did it get so late so soon? It’s night before its afternoon. December is here before it’s June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late, so soon?
-Dr. Seuss
I keep asking myself, “How did it get so late so soon?”
I can’t be “this old.”
I filed for Medicare last week.
I stood next to my husband at two retirement parties, wondering, “Didn’t we just open our family business yesterday?”
“Oh no, it was 36 years ago,” I reflect. “Actually 39 years if you add in the three years spent in operating the business from our garage.”
I hung pictures of my four grandchildren around the house in preparation for the second retirement party.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Number Five due any day now.
Five grandchildren in 2.5 years.
I closed the doors of my private coaching/counseling practice.
Where did thirteen years go?
But as I reflect on all of this, I find myself “stunned,” or even moreso, “stupified.”4
Open Your Life to What is Left Undone
(Beautiful glasses bought in Brugge, Belgium, to cheer on this new phase: Here’s to the here and now and Here’s to what’s to come.”)
Poet John O’Donohue’s poem, “Blessing for Retirement,” is a lifeline currently.
When I want to close the blinds, climb under the comfy covers of my bed, and sleep through it all…I hear his words, “Open your life to what is left undone."
His invitational words are helping me open my clenched, resistant fists.
Words do that for me.
Five specific lines offer solace, stability, and clarity on how to move forward in this transitional period. As I turn them into prayers, they help me find my way home to Peace:
“Open your life to what is left undone.” I pray, “God, what is left undone? Help me open my life up to new possibilities.”
“Let your heart enjoy a different rhythm.” I pray, “God, my heart beats faster than ever. I can’t sleep. Please help it slow down and receive this different rhythm…a rhythm of rest, not a rhythm of racing.”
“Have the courage for a new approach to time.” I pray, “God, only You can help me have this new approach to time. I have no earthly idea how to live from a place of rest. This deep, inner rest must be the new approach to time you have for me.”
“Befriend your own beauty of soul.” I pray, “God, help me put into practice ‘befriending my soul.’ Dr. Alison Cook introduced this to me on the podcast. I know in my head but need to know in my heart.”
“Awaken the depths beyond your work.” I pray, “God, I’m a recovering workaholic. Acutally, God, I’ve redefined this of late, ‘I am a recovering help-aholic.’ Show me the ‘depths beyone my work.’”
Stand on the Shore of a New Invitation
I invite you on the new journey.
Will you stand on the shore of this invitation?
You don’t have to be in the third act of your life.
Transitional periods are a normal, albeit unnerving, part of all of our journeys.
Some take us by surprise.
Some are planned, yet catch us off guard.
My daughter Brooke sent me this really cool sticker in hopes it would help me through this transition.
I hope it helps you today.
https://www.dioceseofkerry.ie/media/uploads/BLESSING%20FOR%20RETIREMENT.pdf
https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/stupefy
https://nicoleunice.com/2020/04/discovering-your-window-of-tolerance-lets-be-real-podcast-ep-3/