03 May 2007

Rudderless

Wednesday was lost day. Cold, gray, unpredictable and barometrically unstable. And I developed a case of acute fulminating grumpitis-or the familial name "grumpits" (which has really only been the familial name, since I misread it yesterday, but I like it). Today it is beautiful sunny and breezy, 63°, and most importantly, high-pressure. I have corrected my Wicked friend, to explain that I actually love dramatic weather, i.e. thunder and lightning, wind, hail-you know Hollywood weather. Because it's true, the electrical charge, which is produced is very exciting and energizing. Anyway, she did a far better job explaining it than I will.
So let's move on to the retired lady's quandary-- Loss of Self.



I have of late been creating some lovely pieces of jewelry and with a little provocation have gone back to some knitting. I am enjoying my blogging, especially finding new blogs to read and marveling at the voices we have, when we choose to share them. I am constantly amazed at the thoughts that come out of my friend's heads. Be assured,it is very gratifying to have brilliant friends.

However. I guess I have reached a point in retirement, where I have lost the direction of my life-I'm not bored-I'm rudderless. 30 years as a registered nurse dictated more of my life than I would like to admit. It defined me whether I was working or not. It defined how I thought about topics and how I reacted to incidents or conversations.

I found myself recently listening to a conversation about a medical topic, and for the first time ever, had nothing to say-nothing to inject, nothing to correct, nothing to comment on. It was a very peculiar sensation.
In the succeeding days, I found myself feeling sadder and sadder. I felt as though I lost my center-no less of a human- but with less definition.
I recognize these feelings of grief, and although they are familiar, I'm always surprised by their appearance. There is a feeling of loss for something that will never return, for the productive, contributing medical practitioner. And altho I don't want to go back, I am nevertheless saddened by the loss of that confident, capable, professional.

I have chosen a new path, one that is completely unknown to me. And there is no one who can tell me exactly what this will be like.

Everyday is interesting and a little scary, I have chosen not to have rigid plans and to see what unfolds-and for now, that seems to be a little grieving. ' doesn't seem to affect my creative muse, so we'll just go along with it.

5 comments:

Moi said...

A very well written, thoughtful post. Brave, too, to admit the things you're admitting. So much of who we are IS our work. And rightly so, I think. The key, perhaps, is to realize we can have many, many different life's work, and you are now in a process of discovering what might be next for you. While it can be sad and a little scary, I imagine it must also be exciting. At any rate, I have never known you as Nurse Doris Rose, only as Friend Doris Rose, so to me, your "work" in that area remains as constant as ever!

bnmom said...

You are passion and brilliance, ready to take the risk of discovering what else is out there.

Remember to breathe.

Doris Rose said...

muchas gracias, mi amigas!!

~MAGILL~ said...

WHEN you decide to create, a new Realm of possibility

new ways of being will call you POWERFULLY into action

you have always made a difference in the world - the rudder guides the ship in the direction of the destination - ???

A.Fanny said...

You'll always be Nurse MacBean to me!

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