Biographical Non-Fiction posted September 20, 2023 |
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Soul searching and wants.
Where I'm At
by GWHARGIS
I'm 62. Not crypt keeper old but not young. Too old for a nose piercing, but too young for a Life-Alert necklace. A few pounds over my ideal weight, but still relatively healthy. I don't take prescription medications ... mainly because I rarely see a doctor. I have noticed that there is a strong connection between a doctor's visit and the discovery of an ailment.
Having established the fact I am in somewhat good shape, I have a confession.
I don't want to work anymore. I've never been a career woman. To me, employment was a means to an end. I work, get paid, feed family. Three simple steps that made sense. At least, up until now.
Now, I have developed a bad attitude. I resent every single, solitary minute of working. I can't or won't be nice. When someone asks how I'm doing, I don't bother to answer because my face says it all. I went through a period in my mid to late teens where I hated working. Then after I had my first child, well, work had a purpose. That purpose was named Eric.
But at 62, I am just tired of working forty hours a week. Then I start my other jobs, cook, maid, artist and writer. I'm tired and I'm cranky.
On my days off I can generally do what I want ... unless my grandkids are coming over, my husband needs help with something, I need to catch up on the laundry or housework.
Frankly, at this point in my life I want to wake up in the morning and say, "Today, I want to do this and that." Not "Today, I can either do this or that."
It's the "or" that causes my anger.
I'm not promised tomorrow. It would make life a lot easier if we knew how much time we had. I could plan for that wonderful thing called retirement, but I can't. And I don't want to wait. I want to start enjoying life now. I want to go for long walks, read a book, vacuum when I want to. Maybe be so bold as to start a writing group where I live.
Long story short, (or have I passed that point?) I want to be Gretchen. Not G the pharmacy tech. I want to say I dabble in things, be it art, writing, nature walks, or beach cleanups.
I want to be G the dabbler. It's not going to be a nine to six kind of job. Nope. This will be a twenty-four hour a day commitment.
Sounds like a dream. One problem, the pay sucks.
I'm 62. Not crypt keeper old but not young. Too old for a nose piercing, but too young for a Life-Alert necklace. A few pounds over my ideal weight, but still relatively healthy. I don't take prescription medications ... mainly because I rarely see a doctor. I have noticed that there is a strong connection between a doctor's visit and the discovery of an ailment.
Having established the fact I am in somewhat good shape, I have a confession.
I don't want to work anymore. I've never been a career woman. To me, employment was a means to an end. I work, get paid, feed family. Three simple steps that made sense. At least, up until now.
Now, I have developed a bad attitude. I resent every single, solitary minute of working. I can't or won't be nice. When someone asks how I'm doing, I don't bother to answer because my face says it all. I went through a period in my mid to late teens where I hated working. Then after I had my first child, well, work had a purpose. That purpose was named Eric.
But at 62, I am just tired of working forty hours a week. Then I start my other jobs, cook, maid, artist and writer. I'm tired and I'm cranky.
On my days off I can generally do what I want ... unless my grandkids are coming over, my husband needs help with something, I need to catch up on the laundry or housework.
Frankly, at this point in my life I want to wake up in the morning and say, "Today, I want to do this and that." Not "Today, I can either do this or that."
It's the "or" that causes my anger.
I'm not promised tomorrow. It would make life a lot easier if we knew how much time we had. I could plan for that wonderful thing called retirement, but I can't. And I don't want to wait. I want to start enjoying life now. I want to go for long walks, read a book, vacuum when I want to. Maybe be so bold as to start a writing group where I live.
Long story short, (or have I passed that point?) I want to be Gretchen. Not G the pharmacy tech. I want to say I dabble in things, be it art, writing, nature walks, or beach cleanups.
I want to be G the dabbler. It's not going to be a nine to six kind of job. Nope. This will be a twenty-four hour a day commitment.
Sounds like a dream. One problem, the pay sucks.
![]() Recognized |
The dream of retiring has been on my mind more than a little bit this past year. Seeing what Social Security will dole out monthly is depressing as hell. I've come to a flexible decision of retiring January of 2025. I'll keep you posted. If I win the lottery, that date is not going to stand. Lol
Pays
one point
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