Working/Not Working 1

Now, I’m not working.  I have closed the practice, had the party, climbed the mountain, took care of the grandchildren, and now we have settled in down at the beach house.  We have been coming down here on this week of July 4^th, not working this whole week, for many years now.  Some of the family come when they can – we have a daughter and granddaughter here now-- and friends drop by, and I watch fireworks.  None of that is new.

What is new is that we are not going home, and we know that.  So it doesn’t feel as if we have to take three days to de-stress, and then two days to gear back up again.  I am not thinking about how many people I will have to see and what shape they are in while I am gone, at least not in the way I did while I was actively seeing everyone.  I still wonder about many people.  I still get messages from several, which is nice, although a bit confusing.

But now this not working thing seems very real, and basically, it is very liberating.  If you look back on this blog two years ago (7/26/12), you will see that I was taking a vacation and that I was tired.  It was clear then that the profession was falling apart, and that it would be difficult for me to continue to work in the manner that I had been. 

Now, I don’t have to care.  I do care, but it isn’t about me.

It is very early for me in this new phase. I have worked with so many people who have had to make changes in their lives; for most of them it was not their choice.  I have seen how difficult changes can be, even if they seem to be what people want.  For me, my underlying feeling is one of freedom, relief, and energy.  But on top of that is a feeling of being  disoriented, unstructured, and a bit of anxiety.

The anxiety is that I still feel healthy, strong, and capable.  I should be doing something.   I believe that I will be doing something, and I think I know what it is. But the actual goal is still kind of vague, and the methodology is a complete mystery.

So we were talking tonight with some friends.  They asked how I was doing being retired.  I said I wasn’t retired,  I just closed my practice.   So, they asked, are you still working?  I said no, I’m not working now.

My wife chimed in and said, “He’s just unemployed.”

So that’s what I am during this time of transition.  I’m unemployed. But I know that if I’m offered a job, I won’t take it.  I have to make my own.

As I used to say at the end of so many of my patient’s notes, after a session in  which someone thought he was ready to do all the right things: “we’ll see.”

transition, part 11A

Melancholy:

Feeling, or making somebody feel, a thoughtful or gentle sadness.

            I am in the middle of withdrawing from over forty years of practicing, and continually trying to learn and perfect, the art and science of psychotherapy.  I use the term “withdrawing” in the medical sense, of going through a strange, physical reaction. Withdrawing from work is almost as hard as getting off of Effexor, which I believe to be an evil drug that no one is properly warned about its dangers  Except instead of sweats, trembling and nausea,  the overwhelming feeling is one of melancholy.

I am in the middle of a process that I know it is ending and I want it to end already.  I will be seventy at my next birthday.  I have been doing this for over forty years.  I still find it complex, fascinating and challenging, but once I realized I didn’t have to be doing this any more; that I didn’t have to worry about people who might get out of control, or too depressed,  or harm themselves, or flunk out of school, or get arrested, or pregnant, or too drunk, or even stabbed or shot – this is urban America after all--it just seemed as if, for the first time, I realized how much I’d been carrying around, and how exhausting it had been getting.

Saying good-bye to so many folks in so short a time has been very difficult.  I realize that some people have come to see me to get cover.  By that I mean they need a letter to get out of work, or school, or for their probation officer, or even to apply for disability benefits.  But most of the folks I see have come because they are suffering.  They suffer from psychological, emotional, and often physical pain.  They suffer because of loss, loneliness, confusion, stress, illness, and mostly because they have drawn a rotten hand to begin with.

People say that you have to play with the hand you’ve been dealt, and most of these folks have been dealt a bad hand: bad parents, bad neighborhoods, bad genes, bad illnesses, bad brains, been addicted, been too poor, or even too rich. They had to play that hand.  Getting new cards is very, very difficult.

After forty years of this I really feel that I did what I was cut out to do.  I put in a real effort.  I tried to learn my craft.  I feel I did some good, even more than that sometimes.

But I am a real child of the ‘60s.  We were going to change the world.  Make it fair, reasonable, bring justice, equality, and freedom.   And why not?  It was clear who the good guys were and what needed to be done.  Everyone around me seemed to understand that.

I guess that’s what happens when you surround yourself with people just like you.  It’s difficult to realize that the huge crowd over there, those folks jeering and throwing things, really believe that we are the ones who are wrong and crazy.

Yet, in my own, still naïve, still idealistic, still hopeful way,  I am still waiting for the answer to the obvious question: “(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding.”

Since I have not yet been given anything close to a satisfactory answer to that question, I am left, feeling

Melancholy.

Denial?

As I said a couple of posts ago, I am beginning the transition.  I am morphing from who I was and what I have been doing for the last forty years into whatever it is that comes next. It is an interesting time. I left work today(Thursday) in the middle of the afternoon.  Some young guy (62) now comes in and takes over my office.  I walked out into the parking lot and there were still cars in it.  I drove home and my wife was still on the phone, working.

If I haven't said it yet, I want to make it clear that I realize that I am very fortunate, and that I can do this out of choice.  I am getting older, but except for the reality that I can no longer run very fast, play basketball with people who are thirty years-old, and that I have much more trouble remembering names that I rarely use, I am in good shape.  I am nicked and bruised and sore in spots, but I am healthy. My skin is saggy and my legs are bowed, but I am fine.

I  also have enough money to be able to survive quite well. I am not buying a yacht, but I could buy a small boat and I am happy with my kayak. I am in a good relationship with someone who is certainly still interesting, to say the least.  Also, and very important, my two children are grown, all solidly self-supporting, both married and also in good relationships, and they now have their own children who are, so far, healthy, enthusiastic little bundles of joy and enthusiasm, when they're not fussy.  And all of these people live within twenty minutes of me.

So, with the fundamentals, things couldn't be better.

Given that, I am still trying to sort out what I want to do, what I can do, and what is important to do with the time that should be available since I won't be spending thirty-five hours doing clinical work and another ten to twenty hours doing the shit work I have to do to get paid, write letters, file reports, make phone calls...... all the stuff that goes with trying to be professional and get paid.

Well, the first thing I learned upon not working as much and getting older is it seems that unless I make a concerted effort to do other things, life will be spent doing things to stay alive. That includes more of what we used to call "daily life skills" in our evaluations.  Who knew they could take so long.  Dressing, cleaning, flossing, shopping, cooking, loading the dishwasher, emptying the dishwasher, reading the paper, checking on-line to see if what the paper said was accurate.

The next big thing, is getting the exercise that I haven't gotten since i played basketball. Go to a gym in the middle of the morning and who is there, women with rich husbands and old people.

Then there is the big one, going to some kind of doctor. My wife, unfortunately, has a complex medical condition, so she goes to the doctor more than she ever did.  I went with her last time, and just going to the big medical complex can ruin any positive outlook.  We are near Boston.  We really have the best medical care in the world. The best doctors, the best hospitals, the best research.  But who is there: old, sick people.  People shuffling along, people on walkers, people looking sunken in and ashen.

Most of these people are my age, some are younger, some are older, but everyone knows this is the next step, and the step after this is worse.

That's where denial comes in. Foe me it seems best to just keep going and ignore all you can. My shoulder hurts a little, so I don't throw any down-field blocks.  My knees can give me trouble so I don't jump, and if I do I try not to land.  My tooth got chipped, so I'm getting that fixed but it still bothers me. Still -- just keep going.

I know that I have ideas of good and semi-important things I want to do, but I don't have to do any of them.  No one has called up (or sent a text) asking me when I will be finished.  I realize that what I really need to do is relax, play and have fun. But exactly how to do that is still a bit vague.  I don't think I can go out into the street and find six friends and play Ring-a-levio, like I did sixty years ago.  I don't my wife will call me in when it gets dark.

For years it was a lot of fun just to rest and relax after a week of hard work.  Right now, in the afternoon, when I am accustomed to still having five hours of work ahead of me, I'm not that tired. So having fun means...I'm still not sure....and it feels kind of weird.  Not bad exactly, certainly less stressful, but still weird.

It's a pity the grand-girls don't live here so I would have someone to dance with. I'm sure they would lend me a tutu.

can't shake that feeling

I can't really shake it.

Contentment seems synonymous with resignation.  If you're that impressed with yourself then you've done enough.  But look around.  The world is still a mess.

It may not be your fault, but you are still (at least partially) responsible.

What can I say; that's how I feel.

and unless you're part of the solution, you're part of the problem ( asshole ).

3 directions at once

If you let it; if you don't push hard to make your own way, the flow of life will take you in certain directions.  I tell this to my patients all the time.  You have the "will" and the ability to push back, and make things happen in other ways, but there is a general flow to things that will happen naturally, just because of age, place and other external circumstances, and they exert a constant pressure to make things happen.

(as an aside--- I can remember walking through the streets on NYC when I was an impressionable, philosophical thirteen year-old.  I looked up in the sky and saw the words "Time" and "Life" flashed up on the top of a huge silver building.  For an instant I thought, wow, this city really wants you to stop and think  about what is going on in your life.  But the next thing that flashed across the sky said "Sports Illustrated" and I realized that they only wanted me to buy something.  I have been aware of that since then.)

As I reach this stage of my life I find that I am letting things flow, and the current is pulling me in three directions.  The first, and newest, is that I am aware of how much time I spend thinking about my granddaughter, and how different it is from how I thought about my children.  As a new parent you have to watch the kid moment to moment: to feed it, change it, watch it sleep, breathe and to wander what it wants and needs right then.  That's what parents need to do.

As a grandparent I find that I keep wondering about my new off-spring longer-term.  I think about how she is now, tiny and cuddly, and how much that will change so quickly, and I find myself considering all the possibilities, good, bad, marvelous and indifferent. What will she encounter and what choices she will have to make?  What will be the world that she will deal with.  With my own kids it was certainly moment to moment: deal with feeding, deal with sleeping, deal with sounds, words, sitting, crawling, walking.  But now I wonder about things that this girl will encounter, probably long after I am around for her to tell me about them.

In the meantime my life is beginning to change in other ways.  I will soon reach an age when, despite Republican opposition, I will be able to receive checks from my government just for staying alive, whether I work, pay taxes, or just decide to watch "Housewives of New Jersey."  The money is nice, but it really isn't a deciding factor as much as it is a demarcation of time.  It is time to alter my schedule after thirty years of coming to the same city and sitting hour after hour,  looking people in the eye and asking them "what the fuck did you do that for? You nuts or something?"  I am being pushed, by my granddaughter and others in my family to use my time and energy to explore different things. 

In theory this is a good idea, in practice, it is very difficult for me to not take new patients, and to not feel guilty about that.  I am supposed look around and find new things to do, and there seem to be so many, but I have to learn to let myself do some of them.

I intend to do some of this over the next six months.  I am trying to challenge myself to do interesting, worthwhile things, while not stressing about it.  I hope that they are very different from the things I do now.  I really hope that they don't involve "helping people'" which is what so many of my friends who have worked other jobs all their lives are trying to do.  I feel I have done that for forty years.  I want to learn to waste time.  Not easy.

But still, after I type this, I am going to work.  I will see a row of patients who I want to see, each of which is struggling in their own way to get through this holiday season.  I seem to be of some help to all of them, as they keep coming -- and none of these people need letters send to anyone. One has lost his job and is having the first rough holiday ever.  Another is now estranged from her family for very good reasons, another has a very sick child and a husband who is freaking out because of it --- on and on it goes.  I am still very into that, at least once I get to the office.

The biggest change is now the contrast between working and not working.  It is a bigger transition from thinking about my family to getting my head back into work. The world is opening up.  The river has divided into three broad streams and each seems to be going through the rapids.  So far I have been able to steer clear of the rocks.