The problem with self-awareness.

I'm 62 years old. Almost 63. That’s a really big deal. It means I can retire right now and get some Social Security, although not nearly as much as if I wait a few more years. How wonderful to know that I no longer have to work! If something happens where I can't work anymore, or the job goes away, I’ll be okay. Not great, but marginally okay enough.

Some people insist that retirement is bad for you. They say you start to decline once you don’t have something useful to do. You need a Purpose, with a capital P. They also point out that if I wait until I'm 70 I’ll get the biggest possible monthly benefit.

Yeah, that's not happening, at least not voluntarily. Work has never provided a purpose for me. It’s a means to an end, period, and if I can be lucky enough to like what I’m doing (which is currently the case), that’s a gift, but work doesn’t feed my soul, and it never really has.

I don’t know how we got on the topic, but my therapist asked me last week how I would feel if I stopped working. I told her it would be a huge relief, which seemed to surprise her. So I explained that I’ve never been able to build up vacation or sick time because some days I just can’t function, and I’ve often wondered if I’m really even capable of sustaining full-time work for extended periods of time.

Her response really surprised me: “Maybe you’re not.”

And she’s right, I’m not. I’m exhausted. I’ve spent decades swimming against a disability I didn’t know I had, and I’m fucking exhausted.

So my therapist has given me some homework:  figure out a way to take at least one or two planned days off every month. I’ve got April and May worked out. February and March, not so much.

The problem with facing facts is that now it’s harder than ever to show up, but show up I must. And show up I will, at least for today.

But yeah. Self-awareness is not all it’s cracked up to be.