A number of years ago, I left a job that I’d enjoyed, but had played itself out. Coming to an agreement with my boss, I gave notice, not sure what I was going to do next. At the time, I was crushed at the suggestion that I was less than stellar in my role, but also knew in my heart that I was unwilling to give the time and energy that had become expected. In retrospect, as so many perceived “losses” turn out to be, this was an excellent decision that led to a total god-shot in the form of the work I’ve now been doing for 9 years (After withdrawing my name from a higher position, I wondered what it would be like to manage a particular program, not having experience in that modality – literally within days, the director called to tell me that the manager had resigned, and was I interested? I started 1 month after leaving the other position).

What happened between the time I gave notice at the old job and accepted the new position is that all sorts of people shared their concerns and advice with me. “Go back to school!” “Find a new job NOW!” “Don’t wait too long to look!” and the like. Initially, I felt buffeted by, and began to internalize, the fear I felt coming from these suggestions. Maybe I could do better in my current job. What if no one else ever wants me? What if I have to sell my house?  I came to realize that people were sharing their own anxiety, and that most of it had nothing to do with my situation. I had the recommended 3 months’ salary in the bank, I was employable, I trusted HP to lead me to the next right thing. With that recognition came a sigh of relief as I relaxed into trusting the process. 

I’ve recently realized that I’m having a similar experience in regards to my planned retirement. Everybody has an opinion. A co-worker in my age range asked me “Have you thought about where you’ll live?” describing his plan to move to the southwest. Someone else asked what kind of consulting I plan to do. Another person (actually, several other persons) asked “What on earth will you do with yourself?” Along with the questions are their  announcements of not having enough money, not ever wanting to quit work, etc. After having made a decision and a plan that I felt good about, I found myself wavering, anxiety rising. What if I’m making a mistake? What if, what if, what if?”  I had to consciously remind myself of all the positive affirmations I’ve also received – “You will love it!” and, “You can always go back to work if you want.” Once again, I am relaxing into trusting the process. Number 1, I’m not there yet. Number 2, retirement, like everything else in this life, will unfold in its own time.

 It’s interesting how quickly I take on other people’s emotions, almost automatically. We who’ve grown up with alcoholism are often “empaths” and absorb the energy we're exposed to. Thank god for Alanon and the gentle direction to bring the focus back to myself. Tomorrow, 2/28, is the 33rd anniversary of my first Alanon meeting. I think of the immature, extreme co-dependent, obsessive person I was at age 31, along with the man who prompted my attending that first meeting, who died now 30 years ago from an overdose. So much has changed, in me and in my world, and I give thanks every single day -  not just for my recovery from addiction, but for my recovery from the effects of someone else's addiction, which has been the tougher journey by far. 

I assume that having mixed feelings and scattered fears is part of the process of coming to the end of one’s career. It has been true of any major change – those decisions I made and those that were made for me. The challenge is not to go too far down either path – the “oh no!” or the “oh yeah!” One day at a time- still a challenge for this alcoholic.

How do you recognize when you're traveling in "What If Land" and how do you bring yourself back to the present moment?