After much wavering and inner turmoil, I made my final decision to retire from the practice of mental health and psychotherapy. I discovered something wonderful when I told friends and family about my final decision. People told me it was the right decision because I had helped many people and could be proud of my accomplishments. Those comments felt very good.
This has been a long and difficult process after 45 years of working in this field. My work defined me as a person. From my days in college and onward, I have sought to accomplish this. I knew I wanted to help people and was fascinated by the human mind, the brain, and how they work. That's why making this decision has proven to be so challenging. But, as people have told me, it is now time for me to stop and pursue other activities. That's exactly what I've already begun to do.
Aging produces physical, emotional, and cognitive changes and, in many cases, financial constraints. The worst and most fearsome of cognitive changes are dementia and Alzheimer's disease. Many elderly people face financial struggles, and I am no exception.
In addition, we must contend with real health issues, reduced energy levels, or limitations that were not a concern in previous decades. These changes can frustrate and dishearten. They remind us of the passage of time and the essential elements for preserving our well-being. But aging can also be a period of astonishing growth and discovery. Without the burden of career and work responsibilities, we can now explore new aspects of our identity. We can focus on relationships, hobbies, and passions that our careers neglected.
The transformation from who we were to who we can be occurs as the world gains an unexpected depth, welcoming each day as an opportunity with the wisdom of age. I now have space to write about my life and share whatever I learn. Writing and seeing my family give me a sense of purpose. I am no longer practicing psychotherapy, but the values and lessons learned during my years in practice influence my approach to writing and life. It's a mix of the present and the past, lending a sense of continuity while I settle into the changes that retirement and aging have wrought in my life.
Balancing limitations and opportunities is one of life's greatest challenges during this phase. I have problems with balance because of peripheral neuropathy. However, I can walk and focus on the relationships, activities, and practices that help me feel happier and more comfortable. I have a toy poodle mix who fills me with love. Her name is Nikki, and she is my trusty shadow and a cuddle buddy who brings calm. Life is good, and I am content.
Letting go of past regrets and enjoying the present is an important aspect of aging and retirement. While it's normal to reflect on the past with pride and nostalgia, focusing on unchangeable aspects only intensifies the emotional burden of aging.
Instead of harboring regretful and resentful feelings about past decisions and relationships, we can learn to appreciate what we have, rejoice in our accomplishments, and accept our own paths. The facts are that I have my daughters- and sons-in-law, my grandson, people I know and am friends with in the community, and warm and loving memories of my wife Pat, who is no longer with us.
At 82, I'm still learning, growing, and discovering more about the beauty of life.
Thanks for this poignant essay. I think about the subject a lot. In fact, I recently wrote a Socratic dialogue that addresses this topic. It will probably be published in February. In it, Socrates meets an aging friend who bemoans the fact that, as he believes, his best days are in the past. Through questioning, Socrates persuades his friend that great days still lie ahead for him, though vastly different that the past, so long as the friend adjusts his frame of reference. This is what you, and hopefully I, are doing.
Old age is just that.
Having climbed
Hills, mountains
Crossed rivers, lakes
Hiked woodlands.
Strolled fair meadows
Slid on frozen sidewalks
Hurried across burning streets
Always looking
Both ways, and
Fore and aft.
Now.
We have learned
an appropriate pace
We choose our steps
accordingly, more carefully
Now.
We are the sum of generations
And the company of others.
Some chosen, some found
Some gifted to us
Some gone.
Now.
We choose our spoon
Our knife
Our remaining life.
Oh there is more to come
Fewer choices though
Down the path
That we have learned
To tread,
Facing a few more corners.
Old age is just that.
Malcolm McKinney 2024