Thursday, May 10, 2012

Ten Minutes: One Year

And so, it’s been a year.
A year since we shut the doors, sold off the equipment and walked away.

Funny…it just doesn’t seem that long. 

I’d like to say I’ve come a long way…but I haven’t.  I’d like to say I learned something and moved on…not so much.  I’d like to say I’m better for the experience…jury’s still out on that one.

I know that if I had never tried my hand at the thing I thought I wanted the most, my life would have been a little bit…worse.  Not that I would have known it, perhaps.  But I know it now.  I know there are things I can’t shouldn’t do.  I know that, in the immortal words of Mr. Spock, “having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting.”  Might have been a less exhausting way to learn this, but such is life.

I’m beginning to learn, now, that there is more to life than work.  Certainly, for the five years we owned the restaurant, my life was All About Work.  But I realize that this was the case for me for many years before that.  I wondered, today, if I had always been that way, or if I had learned this from my husband.  How did my self-image get so tangled up in what I did for a living?  When did “job” become Job One?  How fouled up is it to have wasted so many years choosing to make my occupation my number one priority?  I am worthy of more…so much more than that.

There are things about my “retirement” that don’t make me happy.  I have gained weight; I am out of shape.  And I’m shocked at how quickly, at my age, the body can deteriorate from lack of use.  I have nothing but time, but I don’t use it well.  I’m not sure whether my recovery is not yet complete (maybe I’m still “resting?”) or if I have become a certified Couch Potato.  I’m still finding it difficult to focus; still having a hard time finding sustained joy in anything.  I’ve heard it said that these are signs of “depression…”  But I choose not to accept that diagnosis.

And so, I’m inching forward…not sure, still, where I’m bound.  The thing with which I seem to be having the most trouble is dreams.  Plans.  Hopes.  I feel too old to dream, to plan, to hope.  Like I’ve reached a point where I’m not sure what plans or dreams are practical or even sane.  It kind of scares the hell out of me. 


  1. Lisa -

    So much of what your write runs completely parallel to what I am experiencing. Circumstances are completely different but the feelings of emptiness (depression), "poor" use of time, lack of motivation, inability to allow for hope and dreams...WOW, do I resonate with you.

    Is it the product of being this age? Don't you end up wondering about those who say "your 50's are the prime of your life"? How did this happen and how do we MOVE ON?!?

    Just wanted you to know that I hear you....from the bottom of my heart and the depth of my spirit.

  2. Ladies: I know from whence I speak. Feelings of emptiness, lack of motivation, hopelessness? Get thee some help. Saying "I refuse to accept a diagnosis of depression" is like saying "I refuse to accept a diagnosis of cancer."

    You are gifted women with the possibility of many wonderfully creative years ahead. Love to you both.

  3. Sorry, Robin. If accepting a "diagnosis" of depression means jumping on the anti-depressant bandwagon, I'm SO not interested. I can find my own way out of my own pit. I have done and will do again. Now there's a Plan...

  4. No, that's not what I meant at all. I didn't say anything about meds. Only about seeking help and guidance.

  5. Robin--I read your post this morning. NOW I think I know what you were talking about. Depression can be dangerous, and you have experienced first-hand what it can do in its most lethal untreated form. I appreciate your knowledge and concern, and I take it very seriously. Thank you, my friend!

    As far as guidance goes, I'll be signing up for a couple of retreats at a center up near The Mountain that specializes in shamanistic and nature-based spirituality. Really looking forward to it!