Day three of my new life - because day one was the day my daughter went back to school and I (finally) became a stay-at-home mom - and things feel weird. It's not a bad kind of weird - just the feeling that I'm on an extended personal leave, and that things will eventually return to "normal."
Only they won't, and although I'm okay with that, I don't quite know what to make of this new normal. As a counselor, I should have anticipated a transition period, but I was so busy bracing for the feelings of loss everyone warned me about that I never considered it might take some time to get used to an entirely new lifestyle. Silly, really, that it never occurred to me.
I'm not complaining, mind you - I'm in the enviable position of being exactly where I want to be. Well, okay, I'm not a rich and famous novelist with fawning fans and a perfect balance among teaching time, writing time, family time and leisure time, but hey, everyone has to have something to strive for.
And, after all, it's much easier to strive for "it" if you know what "it" is, and it seems that I do. I think that is perhaps the advantage of having begun grieving my anticipated loss so far ahead of the actual change. Unfortunately, it also seems that retiring hasn't grown my patience any, and that I want "it" right now.
Which brings me back to transition time, which is a fact of life. It accompanies both loss, and its companion, gain, and if we're smart, we take advantage of it. We revel in it, we sift priorities and we come out on the other side with clear objectives and a direction for the future. If we're smart.
So, apparently, my task is to be smart. To revel, to sift and to enjoy the journey as I contemplate what I'm seeking on the other side.
I think I can do that.