For many of us, the beginning of a new year signals a time for change. But very often, new beginnings require letting go of something to make space for something different and/or better. Maybe it’s a habit, a relationship, an attitude, or a job. Changes can be expected or unexpected, chosen or imposed, sudden or gradual. I saw a Facebook meme the other day that said, “New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.” How true.
But even welcome changes—the ones we willingly choose—can be stressful because they challenge the familiar. Regardless of the long-term benefits we may expect, change often comes with a mix of sadness and fear along with the excitement. It is with this cocktail of emotions that I am heeding the call of the wild one last time before I’m too “tame” to enjoy it. As I head down the retirement trail to see what adventures might await, I hereby grant myself permission to go outside and play.
Over the past 30 years, I have contributed to numerous publications in addition to co-authoring a “For Dummies” book. It all started with a tiny article I submitted to The Island Packet in the early ’90s. I’ll never forget the acceptance call from Lynne Hummell, special sections editor at the newspaper at the time, and the excitement I felt seeing my words, byline, and a picture of my mom on the front page of the Mother’s Day section. I couldn’t have known how this singular event would shift the course of my life.
Afterward, I continued working for Lynne, who blessed me with opportunities galore. I learned a lot from her about writing, publishing, and editing, and I so appreciate the encouragement she gave me over the years, even as we each moved on to new endeavors. She believed in me, giving me the courage and confidence to do what I love.
For the past 17 years, it has been my honor and privilege to serve as a writer and copyeditor for CH2 magazine. Yep, many of the boo-boos (not all, but many) were because I overlooked something during the production process. Believe me, things can get crazy the day before we print!
Editing is humbling. It is two parts rule-following (grammar + style guide) and one part judgment call. And sometimes our minds and eyes play tricks on us, seeing what should be instead of what is. (Ever try one of those challenges where words are backwards or scrambled or letters are missing but you can still read the paragraph? That’s a good example of brain magic that can work for you on Wheel of Fortune or when receiving a text from your grandchild and against you when proofreading.) Perfection is hard.
But despite being human, I have taken great pride in this publication—watching it grow, evolve and develop its unique personality and place in the community. Although a part-time, work-from-home position for me, this job has been an integral part of my daily routine that I will surely miss.
I will mostly miss my regular communications with “The Marvelous Ms. Maggie Washo”—one of the most genuine souls I know—someone who inspires me, not only with her creativity, energy, strength, confidence, and fire-in-the-belly passion for everything she touches, but with her morals and ethics, kindness and compassion, and her fiercely defined sense of self. I’m sure we’ll stay in touch, but it won’t be the same when I’m no longer on speed dial. That’s where some of the sadness creeps in.
Then there is the fear of the unknown. What if I get bored? What if my husband annoys me? Will I be out of touch and irrelevant? Will I turn into a hermit and collect cats or shrivel up and become invisible before shuffling off to the nursing home? Those are some of my (mostly unfounded) fears … well, except for the part about my husband. We’re “practicing” now for his official departure from the rat race and permanent homecoming this spring.
The exciting part of my decision to retire is knowing I will have the freedom and time to explore new hobbies and resurrect some old ones. For example, I’ve recently taken an interest in backyard birding, which lends itself to vivid fantasies about exotic places I might go to stalk new feathered friends—like the Sea Pines Forest Preserve, Pinckney Island … or Costa Rica.
This has also inspired an interest in photography. I’ve bought a starter camera so I can share images of the critters I encounter. I’m reading Photography for Dummies, and I’ve signed up for a class, but I suspect I’m going to need a tutor.
I’ve also rekindled my enthusiasm for playing piano—something I’ve done on and off throughout my lifetime. My fingers are not as nimble as they were when I was 12, but the cat seems to enjoy my daily concerts. At least he doesn’t complain.
The woman who has crossed our t’s and dotted our i’s for years…the one and only Lindy Hop!
But considering new possibilities compels me to ask some hard questions about the way I’ve invested my time until now. Did my work matter? Did I do my best? Am I easily replaced? The answer is yes.
While we don’t like to think of ourselves as disposable, the truth is, in the workplace, no one is irreplaceable. The world doesn’t stop spinning when you clean out your desk; someone else is always ready to step in and step up. (Picking up where I left off is none other than my friend and mentor, Lynne Hummell. Talk about full circle!)
Where we are irreplaceable is in our personal lives. After all, God made only one me and one you. There is no substitute—ever. I see retirement as an opportunity to devote more time to the role that is unique to me, wearing the shoes no one else can possibly fill.
That said, my natural tendency is to resist change in my routine. I often feel challenged by transitions that take me out of my comfort zone or require letting go or losing control. That seems funny to say when, in my youth, I was the person most likely to take the front seat on the rickety rollercoaster or be first in line to bungee jump from a crane over a parking lot. (Maybe that explains my bad back.) I’m older and wiser now or at least a little more cautious.
The hardest part of letting go is the uncertainty. Closing this chapter is like staring at a blank document on my computer screen, pondering the intro for a novel with only a vague idea of where it’s going and no clue how it will end.
While I find myself grappling with the balance between freedom and loss, I can clearly see that letting go provides a sense of liberation and creates space for new pathways to growth and satisfaction. This year, I will be seeking a new rhythm. With less to try to produce, fix, or control, I can use my time and energy to focus on what truly matters: my home life, my family and friends, my own happiness and whatever spark of joy I might ignite in others. It’s goodbye computer screens, hello sunsets; goodbye deadlines and schedules, hello new adventures; goodbye fast food at my desk, hello picnics and long lunches with the ladies.
To you, faithful readers, friends, and neighbors, it’s not goodbye but see you around—at the beach or the bakery, the grocery store, the park or the gym … or chasing toucans in Central America. I’ll send pictures.
