Mexico City
January 31, 2014
What a happy way to start the day!
I was on my way to Puebla and hailed down a taxi to bring me to the bus station.
"La terminal a Tasquena," I told the driver.
"Con much gusto," he responded...far happier than any other taxi driver has ever been.
"With great pleasure," he told me.
Now...this is not your normal taxi driver/passenger interchange. It usually stops after I say thank you and tell him my destination.
I settled in for the ride, then he excitedly told me that today was January 31st and that it was his last day of work. He was going to retire at the end of the day.
He was so excited.
"Oh, Wow!" I countered. "He estado jubilado por casi ocho anos. Vas a disfrutar tu nueva vida. Felicidades!"
"I've been retired for almost eight years. You're going to love it. Congratulations!"
I asked him what his plans were, what he was going to do.
"I'm leaving the capital, moving to a smaller town outside the city. I want a quieter life."
He was overjoyed and he passed that joy on to me.
We chatted about family, what his new life would be like, but it was a short ride from my apartment to the bus station. The fare was only 30 pesos--$2.50.
"Felicidades!" I told him. I gave him an extra twenty pesos.
"Happy Retirement," my friend. Congratulations!
I had forty minutes to wait at Tasquena--time for breakfast, time to think about this man, his new future, my own retirement.
Come June it will be eight years. Eight years! Obviously, I've not been paying attention. Where have they gone?
I remember eight years ago, the horrible end to my career, the administrator from hell, the two drugs--my chemical twins I called them--that I took just to get through the day. I remember the mornings I'd sit on the edge of the bed saying to myself, "I can't do this," then forcing myself to do it.
By April I'd already had two panic attacks, then more meds. It was hard to admit to myself that if I stayed on the job much longer it would kill me.
By June I was ripping apart my friend Mary's garden. Each evening I'd work 'til dusk. By 9:00 pm I'd be filthy, sweaty and full of mosquito bites. But that was OK. As the new garden began to take shape I realized that as the new space was being reconstructed, I was deconstructing my career.
By the last day of school I'd still not made a decision. I knew, though, as did others, that NCCS would kill me if I stayed. Literally.
So I left.
It was the most difficult decision of my life.
I felt as if I had to jump off a cliff, with no bottom in sight. I still have the email a friend so lovingly sent.
So... how are your emotions doing as you are fulfilling your end of the year responsibilities for the last time... Look at this as taking that first rappel off the rock wall, having to step out over the edge, shaking all over with a bit of fear but also anticipation, then after taking the step off slowly edging your way down, tugging on the rope to reassure yourself that the rope is holding, adjusting your helmet, making sure it too is secure...then halfway down you stop and look around you and Wow! The view is incredible, the mountains all around, the clouds and blue sky and here you are in the middle of it all and you take in a deep breath and release in a joyous woop and then practically skip down the rock face safely to the ground! You made it, the rope held you, the helmet was secure, your friends cheering you from below, patting you on the back as you joined their ranks! Then you think! Hey I made it! I took the plunge and I'm still alive! I can do anything...maybe even bungee jumping!!!!
For whatever reason, all I could only imagine retirement as the "black hole of nothing."
When I think back to that time I marvel about that idea of the "black hole of nothing." I'd never lived my life that way, so why should the future be any different. What sinister thought process was at work holding me to a job I actually hated.
Fear, of course. It's always fear that holds us down.
And the "black hole of nothing?"
Hah!
Could a life have been more blessed more full. Winters out of the north, two fabulous and fulfilling volunteer opportunities in Mexico City, solidifying Spanish by working in one of those places full time in the language. Cruises, extended trips to South America.
Time. Time to do the things that I've wanted to do, things that bring more fulfillment than babysitting kids in a school library nine periods a day. Time to go to bed when I want and time to get up when I want.Time to eat breakfast at 10:00 and lunch at 2:00.
My retirement has been amazing.
Senor Taxista...wherever you are...I hope the same for you! Thank you for the joy you transmitted this morning! Thank you for allowing me to be reflective about the time that's been given to me.
Felicidades y Feliz Jubilacion!
Congratulations and Happy Retirement.
You made my day!
January 31, 2014
What a happy way to start the day!
I was on my way to Puebla and hailed down a taxi to bring me to the bus station.
"La terminal a Tasquena," I told the driver.
"Con much gusto," he responded...far happier than any other taxi driver has ever been.
"With great pleasure," he told me.
Now...this is not your normal taxi driver/passenger interchange. It usually stops after I say thank you and tell him my destination.
I settled in for the ride, then he excitedly told me that today was January 31st and that it was his last day of work. He was going to retire at the end of the day.
He was so excited.
"Oh, Wow!" I countered. "He estado jubilado por casi ocho anos. Vas a disfrutar tu nueva vida. Felicidades!"
"I've been retired for almost eight years. You're going to love it. Congratulations!"
I asked him what his plans were, what he was going to do.
"I'm leaving the capital, moving to a smaller town outside the city. I want a quieter life."
He was overjoyed and he passed that joy on to me.
We chatted about family, what his new life would be like, but it was a short ride from my apartment to the bus station. The fare was only 30 pesos--$2.50.
"Felicidades!" I told him. I gave him an extra twenty pesos.
"Happy Retirement," my friend. Congratulations!
I had forty minutes to wait at Tasquena--time for breakfast, time to think about this man, his new future, my own retirement.
Come June it will be eight years. Eight years! Obviously, I've not been paying attention. Where have they gone?
I remember eight years ago, the horrible end to my career, the administrator from hell, the two drugs--my chemical twins I called them--that I took just to get through the day. I remember the mornings I'd sit on the edge of the bed saying to myself, "I can't do this," then forcing myself to do it.
By April I'd already had two panic attacks, then more meds. It was hard to admit to myself that if I stayed on the job much longer it would kill me.
By June I was ripping apart my friend Mary's garden. Each evening I'd work 'til dusk. By 9:00 pm I'd be filthy, sweaty and full of mosquito bites. But that was OK. As the new garden began to take shape I realized that as the new space was being reconstructed, I was deconstructing my career.
By the last day of school I'd still not made a decision. I knew, though, as did others, that NCCS would kill me if I stayed. Literally.
So I left.
It was the most difficult decision of my life.
I felt as if I had to jump off a cliff, with no bottom in sight. I still have the email a friend so lovingly sent.
So... how are your emotions doing as you are fulfilling your end of the year responsibilities for the last time... Look at this as taking that first rappel off the rock wall, having to step out over the edge, shaking all over with a bit of fear but also anticipation, then after taking the step off slowly edging your way down, tugging on the rope to reassure yourself that the rope is holding, adjusting your helmet, making sure it too is secure...then halfway down you stop and look around you and Wow! The view is incredible, the mountains all around, the clouds and blue sky and here you are in the middle of it all and you take in a deep breath and release in a joyous woop and then practically skip down the rock face safely to the ground! You made it, the rope held you, the helmet was secure, your friends cheering you from below, patting you on the back as you joined their ranks! Then you think! Hey I made it! I took the plunge and I'm still alive! I can do anything...maybe even bungee jumping!!!!
For whatever reason, all I could only imagine retirement as the "black hole of nothing."
When I think back to that time I marvel about that idea of the "black hole of nothing." I'd never lived my life that way, so why should the future be any different. What sinister thought process was at work holding me to a job I actually hated.
Fear, of course. It's always fear that holds us down.
And the "black hole of nothing?"
Hah!
Could a life have been more blessed more full. Winters out of the north, two fabulous and fulfilling volunteer opportunities in Mexico City, solidifying Spanish by working in one of those places full time in the language. Cruises, extended trips to South America.
Time. Time to do the things that I've wanted to do, things that bring more fulfillment than babysitting kids in a school library nine periods a day. Time to go to bed when I want and time to get up when I want.Time to eat breakfast at 10:00 and lunch at 2:00.
My retirement has been amazing.
Senor Taxista...wherever you are...I hope the same for you! Thank you for the joy you transmitted this morning! Thank you for allowing me to be reflective about the time that's been given to me.
Felicidades y Feliz Jubilacion!
Congratulations and Happy Retirement.
You made my day!
