Time is ticking before Retirement Day: it's now 22 calendar days, 14 work days. Next week will be my last full work week, and next Friday will be the day I submit my resignation letter, making all of this official.
I've noticed a few changes in my reaction to events. There's a pattern to it, in a way. As an old hospice nurse, it looks for all the world to me like Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross's Five Stages of Grief, but I'm not dying. I'm releasing from obligations to others and accepting choices that will belong to me and me alone. At last that seems like an exciting condition, so I've re-christened it the Five Stages of Relief. Here's what that looks like.
- Stage 1 Recognition: that retirement is a real thing and it's about to happen to me.
- Stage 2 Apprehension: wondering who I will be without this career that has consumed so much of my life.
- Stage 3 Planning: While still processing Stage 1 and 2, I realize the calendar won't stop for me and there are things I have to do in advance - like applying for pension benefits. Which I did in mid February.
- Stage 4 Anxiety: I spent half of February, all of March, and most of April working on Stages 1 and 2 while also waiting for the official approval of the pension application. I have a date in mind, but it's subject to change depending on the Social Security Administration's decision.
- Stage 5 Giddiness: The pension application was approved a week ago. I've gotten used to the idea my career is completing, and looking back I've been generally more successful than not. I've also begun to tick off the last time I'll perform certain work functions, many of which are merely required without being useful. As I finish each of these required-but-revolting tasks I get a little bit giggly, knowing some other nurse will have to deal with it next time.
