It’s life Jim, but not as we know it.

The idea that work defines us is not an original one; the noted American psychiatrist Frank Pittman, wrote “it (work) gives us structure, it defines us as functioning, contributing, worthwhile citizens.” I’m sure we’ve all found ourselves asking, or being asked, “What is it that you do?” in social situations when we meet someone for the first time. It’s a convenient icebreaker, but it betrays how important work is in defining us; the answer we get, or how our answer is received, somehow pegs people in some arcane social hierarchy that may exist only in our sub-conscience.

Based on the answers we get, we may assume things about other people’s income, and possibly extrapolate from that what sort of house they live in, what sort of life they lead and so on. If, however the answer we get is, “I’m unemployed,” then a lot of the assumptions we make may be negative. If the person answering our question is middle aged, we may imagine that they’ve been made redundant after a long and fruitful career; the younger the person the more likely we are to assume that they are a feckless waster who is nothing more than a burden on the taxpayer.

So, after thirty six years in work, I now find myself jobless. Ok, officially I’ve retired and am paid a pension, so I can truthfully answer the question of what I do by saying I’m retired rather than unemployed, but the definition of what I am is now very different to what it was a month ago. My feelings of who I am are different too. When I started work in 1976, the prospect of retirement was not something that I gave any thought to; as time went on I thought that it would be nice to get to say fifty-five and then retire and so I’ve done that but I can’t say it doesn’t feel  strange.

On the whole I rather enjoyed working; most days I came home with a sense of having achieved something and the company of my colleagues, many of whom I consider to be my friends, was important to me. Yes, there were times when work stressed me out, yes there were times when I was placed outside my comfort zone and wished I could be doing something else, or doing nothing, but as Pittman says, I felt that I was functioning, that I was contributing, that I was worthwhile. Now I have to get used to the idea that my contribution and my function are very different. I now have the time to do all of those things that I either wanted to do, or needed to do, but that I didn’t have the time to do, but what I lack, at the moment at least is the motivation to do them. I confess to feelings of ennui and of inertia, driven by the fact that I’ve experienced a major life changing event.

Just as other life changing events like marriage, having children, bereavement etc, stir emotions in us that we have to deal with, so too does leaving work. The first time we go through any of these experiences we have no knowledge of how to deal with them and have to learn coping mechanisms. I can only really compare retirement with bereavement. 

I remember when my first wife died, suddenly and at the tender age of 34, that I would wake up in the morning and be aware that something was different, wonder what it was and then be struck by the enormity of the change that had come over my life. Retirement and the lead up to retirement is a bit like that (albeit less upsetting). In the weeks leading up to retirement it was easy to be in denial; the immensity of the idea was somehow difficult to grasp and I viewed the fact that I would soon no longer be working as some fantasy that would not actually come to pass. Now that I am retired it still seems strange; rationally I know that I no longer have a job to go to, but some part of my mind still keeps expecting me to have to pull on my work clothes and commute to the office.

Work is habit forming; it creates a routine and a structure to our lives and whether we like the work or not, it gives us a sense of purpose. Now I don’t have a routine as such, but I need one; indeed I crave routine as it is that comfort zone that I can retreat into. I know that to cope, I need to create myself new routines and drawing on my experience of bereavement, that I have to seek out the things that work for me and jettison those that don’t.  Perhaps I’m being a bit melodramatic; I’m a lot better off than a whole lot of other people who don’t have a job anymore and the fact that I don’t have to go to work isn’t the end of the world.

The idea of comparing bereavement and retirement might be offensive to some people; all I can say is that having experienced both there are a significant number of emotional parallels. 

One of the reasons for starting this blog is that I’ve always enjoyed writing, either for work or for fun, and it can be quite a cathartic process, even if no one else reads it. For better or for worse, I’m going to try adding to this blog once a week at least. If nothing else it will put some sort of structure into things.

Life goes on, but not quite as we knew it.