Through the years, I’ve learned that worry is a lot like pain. For example, if you have a headache and then stub your toe, the headache is no longer your primary concern. There are natural limits on how much you can experience in the way of pain. The same applies to worry – there’s only so many things you can worry about. However, the less you have to worry about, the more a simple concern escalates in your mind. I’ve found this to be true in retirement.

There was a time in my life when I was responsible for 140 employees, involved with several not-for-profit boards, and had many home and family duties. I had a very busy schedule, little time to myself, and lofty personal goals. My mind was constantly swimming in job, community, family, and personal details. There were troubling challenges in balancing all of these responsibilities, and I looked forward to vacations, long weekends, alone time, and eventual retirement. The only relief was often sleep, if I was lucky enough to finally relax. I would run in the mornings to relieve the stress, and use the pain and strain of physical exercise to override these consuming worries.

As a manager, I was often split between the roles of baby-sitter, counselor, adviser, psychiatrist, boss, friend, subordinate, errand boy, maintenance man, husband, father, son, brother, and dog-walker. Honestly, I’ve never been good at household chores or even fatherhood. I was no help with cooking or cleaning and little help around the house. Many things I tried to repair only made matters worse. I begrudgingly cut the lawn, but sometimes found that the noise of the mower at least made me temporarily unapproachable. Cigars served the same purpose. An occasional bar killed some of the pain, except for an occasional hangover. The job was really the only place where I excelled, as I selfishly improved my career at the expense of my family and marriage.

I’m in a much better place now. A second marriage made love a priority, and my wife’s advancement eventually prevailed. I was no longer career motivated, and looked increasingly forward to retirement. The ten years of my career I no longer was the boss, so all my energy was directed to selling advertising for personal commissions. It was not as rewarding as being in charge and a sought-out community leader. Eventually, even the money was not important, hoping that I had saved enough to supplement my pension and Social Security. 

Retirement is a welcome relief, and my working wife’s daily recaps are reminders of the frustrations associated with leadership. She still seems motivated, but often wishes she could take cover from the business sh*tstorm and join my simpler life of way of life. What she may not understand yet is that in retirement the mind seeks the chaos that we become accustomed to in the working world. Even though there are fewer worries, those worries are often taken to the next level of scrutiny. Less significant things that were buried in an avalanche are suddenly snowflakes. Each examined in greater detail to the point where they never melt away. They only grow bigger, when at one time they were routine. Silly things keep you awake at night instead of those once deemed career threatening. You begin to overthink mindless tasks, lose patience, and get easily frustrated when the simplest things go wrong. You’re almost embarrassed to even mention these hassles that you deal with each day.

I continue to run every morning, and try to do a better job of helping out around the house. I did worry that I couldn’t recall the name of his band Dire Straits, after hearing a radio commercial about an upcoming Mark Knopfler concert. I also triple-checked to make sure I had enough doggy bags to walk the dogs. If that isn’t enough, I’ve helped prepare meals twice this week, while continuing to “supervise” our painters and the furniture doctor. I sometimes feel guilty about watching others work hard all day while I enjoy a life of leisure. I did have to go with the painter to my wife’s office to look at some paint samples, but other than that the six or so dog walks and retrieving the mail will be my only outings until we go out to dinner. At least, I took some time today to write after skipping yesterday. I blog, watch documentaries, play games, and read to keep my mind from further going to mush. My only real obsession was about paint colors, after I stressed-out about pumpkin soup preparation, and tried to find a misplaced TV remote control. I’m being a bit factitious, but I warned you I was embarrassed to mention some of the painful, worrisome hassles that I deal with every day in retirement. It’s not for everyone!