Life on a tilt by Liz Flaherty

I'm in Cerella Sechrist and Loree Lough's place today. They're experiencing some of those tilts I talk about below. Our prayers and good thoughts are with them and I'm sure they'll be back with you on their next blog day. Don't miss Cerella's latest Findlay Roads Story, The Way Back to Erin, or any of Loree's impressive list!

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Our prompt for this month's meeting of our writing group, WordPlay, was "Upside Down."
          I laughed thinking about it, because it seems as if all of life since the day I retired has been, if not completely tumbled, at least tilted. Crooked.
          I thought it would be hard not having a routine that required me to be somewhere at a certain time five days a week. Although I looked forward to it, I also thought it would be a process.
          I was used to it the first Monday I didn’t have to get dressed and leave the house.
          I thought it would be a piece of cake sharing the house with my husband. After all, we’d loved each other for two thirds of our lives and had often said how nice it would be to have more time together.
          Well, maybe not that much time. And I was startled that he didn’t want to travel a few times a year—maybe twelve. He was surprised that I did.
          Since a college education hadn’t been part of my past, I wanted to make it part of my future. I didn’t mind that I’d be the oldest kid in class. I wasn’t aiming for the dean’s list or any of those Latin phrases in my GPA. I just thought it would be fun to learn. To interact with different generations and different demographics.
          It wasn’t. I learned, but my retention was that of a 60-year-old, not a traditional college freshman, and interaction didn’t happen. I wanted it to, but maybe I went about it wrong. Maybe…I don’t know, but upside down wasn’t the right way to be then. I stopped after three classes. Tilted some more to try to find the right path for me.  
          I walk fast. I mean, I really don’t, because I have short legs so even though I’m hustling along, I can’t keep up with anyone else. I also don’t watch where I’m going or pick up my feet. (Yes, my mother did speak to me about these issues. So did my husband. No, I didn’t listen.)
          So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when I tripped over a flat spot in the tile while volunteering at the hospital. I found out from my prone position what the term “rapid response” means. It means 15 people arrive in seconds, look down at you in consternation, and ask if “she” blacked out. If “she” is all right. If “she” can get up. I had gone bodily upside down in the space of a heartbeat and it created a mental topsy turvy at the same time. I am the mother and the nana and the daughter. I don’t need care, for heaven’s sake—I give care. I don’t call my husband and ask for him to come and take me home—I’m the person who supplies a ride to whomever needs one. I don’t use the ER at the hospital—I pick up their mail on my rounds as a volunteer messenger.
          Twyla Tharp said, “In dreams, anything can be anything, and everybody can do. We can fly, we can turn upside down, we can transform into anything.”
          Sometimes, in our turns upside down, we see new limitations. We see dreams die and we have to look off at a new angle to find new ones. We get hurt and often before the bruises heal, we are hurt again. There are no arrows that warn us that “this side up” is the way to go, so we fall again and again, whether it’s literally or figuratively. 
         I watched a Jenny Doan video this morning on the making of a quilt with the squares placed on point. She cut, sewed, and pressed. She cut
again, turned, sewed, and pressed again. The results were beautiful.

          That is where we are in retirement. We’re too often upside down. Too often on a tilt. Unlike Ms. Tharp’s hopeful quote, we can no longer transform into anything—our butterfly phase has long passed. But we can still transform, still turn ourselves in a direction where we can see sunlight. And the results are still beautiful.

Liz Flaherty

Comments

  1. Such a lovely, inspiring post, Liz! And so true when you write that our lives are too often upside down and, at some of our ages(mine especially) we can’t transform into just anything. Your words have reminded me though that we can transform or re-make our lives slightly....it’s been fun for me to get back into writing after an 8 year ‘drought’and the next change for me is becoming a grandmother this year, for the first time. I’ll be thinking of this post long after today. Thanks and may life turn right side up again soon for Cerella and Loree.

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    1. Thanks, Janice. Congratulations on becoming a grandmother--it's certainly on of life's most rewarding full-body flips!

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  2. Great post, Liz! And yes, things are, if not upside down, at least on a tilt since retirement happened at our house too. I'm not sure yet how to right them or even if I need to right them, but the sun is still shining on us and each day is a new opportunity.

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  3. I loved this post. Thank you for writing it. I guess it’s about learning to embrace our limitations. It’s hard when your mind tells you you can still do this or that, but your body quickly reminds you that you can’t. Nevertheless, there are still so many great things we can do, right? Like, you write so beautifully and express yourself so well.
    My thoughts are with Cerella and Loree Lough.

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    1. Thanks, Laurie. Yeah, I'm still trying to forgive my body for its betrayal. :-)

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  4. Funny, isn’t it how we depend on our bodies to obey our commands? Then something happens like a fall to remind us that we need to slow down a bit or to watch where we’re going. 😉 Great post, Liz. I was reading a book recently in which the heroine’s mother in law advised her that, once her son/husband retired, the heroine shouldn’t “let him in the house.” There is an adjustment period, to be sure. LOL.

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    1. It's so hard to slow down, because--and I don't mean to sound morbid--time is so limited and you never know when you're going to run out of it.

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  5. I want to send healing thoughts to Loree and Cerella's families. Thanks for jumping in with a blog post. You are spot on about the ups and downs of life. I love rainbows. And it's amazing how many times when I've been really down that suddenly a real rainbow appears in the sky. And I've long thought that retirement needs to come at the stage in life when a person is younger and able to enjoy it more. Happy Mom's Day upcoming this weekend.

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    1. Thanks, Roz! I love rainbows, too. For myself, I don't think I could have enjoyed retirement at a younger age. I loved working, loved that particular kind of busyness. I was mildly resentful when 40 hours a week became too many. I was wrong, but that's the way it was.

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  6. I enjoyed reading your story about this phase of life. I think many things are upside down as we go along. And I just noticed that you all were commenting around 4:30 a.m.? Is that right? We think we'll only be awake at night when we have babies. Then we find out later that multiple reasons may keep us up at night. Upside down turns out to be a permanent thing, in my world, anyway. Here's to shared experiences, which you excel at, Liz!

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    1. Lol. It's because the blog is on Pacific time and it posts at 1:00 AM so that those of who are...er...east of there, can read it early in the morning. Thanks, Cathy!

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  7. I've tripped over that same flat spot! Love being retired, if you can call writing 90,000 word novels being retired. lol And having a pj day everyday is awesome! Loved this post.

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  8. Hi, Pat! I love retirement's dress code, too!

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  9. What a great post! I'm afraid Jeff & I will drive each other crazy when we both retire, lol. I love that you've found so many ways to keep yourself busy....just watch out for those floor tiles!

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    1. We drive each other crazy a lot, but I've always said my worst day with him is better than my best day without him--it still goes. But yes, the floor tiles...

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  10. Fun post, Liz! Ugh. Life goes way too fast. I can't seem to give up on all the things I want to accomplish even though I know I should have done more of them by now than I have... Although, like you suggested my body is limiting me. (Somewhat. Probably not enough. Lol.)

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    1. It's hard giving up on things, but easy to celebrate what you DO accomplish. Suzy Sunshine strikes again, but it's important.

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  11. I agree with so many of your points, Liz. My body certainly doesn't do the things at sixty it used to do at thirty, and it ticks me off! And though I enjoy spending time with my husband, there is such a thing as too much time. It's an adjustment we're learning to live with.

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    1. Thanks, Jana. As I write this, I'm happy dancing because I've gotten 10,000 steps four days in row. Truly, baby steps make me happy... :-)

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