My husband is beginning his paperwork for his retirement. It's a huge step, and what is beyond it is unknown. He seems happy enough with the idea of stopping work, and I must admit I've had little problem myself. But my situation was that my writing was where my heart was, and the teaching, while gratifying, was not how I identified myself. I probably felt best when I ran a safehouse for battered women. It contained more of the elements of work I value. I knew I was saving lives, I got to draw on my domestic experiences, and there was training/teaching as well. I also was in an adversarial position, which is where I fit best. My father had than kind of job, integrating factories before it was the law. He liked to do the right thing before it was accepted, and stick his neck out. I do as well.
But my love was writing, and I regret not being forceful enough with the business end of it to get more published. I'm shy that way. I have novels, a mystery and one memoir that have never been published. Of course, it's never too late, but so far my energy level sinks when I contemplate such efforts.
My husband will have to reorient himself completely, as he will have no lab, equipment or ability to conduct experiments. If science is in his future, as well as his past, it will have to take a different form.
But you never know, he may discover his true passion, or just love working of puzzles and drawing. I'm pretty sure, for a while, he'll be catching up on his rest. There is a kind of exhaustion that requires attention when you no longer go to a job. It's time to feed the kitty. Then see what's next.
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