So, my sister and I resurrected one of our seasonal rites of passage: we went cherry picking. Now, cherries are actually a fickle fruit. Too much water and they split; too little and they wither. Too much sun and the dry out; too little and end up rotting before they turn ripe. So, I now understand where the phrase “cherry picking” came from. You do have to pick the literal cream of the crop when you’re picking.
But back here in real life? I’m also cherry picking. With all of the back-and-forth, hemming and hawing, considering and reconsidering, I’ve finally set a retirement date: April 30th, 2027. But let’s be honest here: probably before and after, I’ll still be working just a tiny bit. So, what’s the difference between now and then? Possibly not much. Mostly, it’s that I give myself permission not to be busy after that date. In fact, I give myself permission to begin winding things down in March of next year. It’s time.
Before that, my goal is to stay busy-ish and take work that may be less than ideal at least through the end of the year. After mid-March of next year? Well, I’ll only take a “less than ideal” job if it would be done before April 30th. And after April 30th? I’m only doing unicorns.
For a long time, I’ve struggled with wanting to retire but not being sure it was the right time or fair to my husband or financially wise. So, what changed?
Me. I’m what changed.
First, since the beginning of May when work had slowed way down for me, I was able to pivot to home. And you know what? Our lives finally ran like clockwork. Everything from the most mundane to the most complex got done on time, on budget and with the minimal amount of stress. And I was busy! Everyday, I had at least 4-5 hours of things I needed to do. There was no random TV watching (I’m not sure if we’ve turned on the television in weeks, honestly) or bonbon eating. No siree Bob! I was trimming and mowing, cleaning, fixing, doing projects, buying groceries, making meals, taking care of furry ones, managing finances… if it needed done, I did it.
Then, I got busy again. Granted, it’s only been a week but I’m already behind. My hubby had to help me mow because I was running out of time to mow before the rains came again. I need to get laundry done and a grocery run in but I also need to clean before Monday. Not only do I have a Board meeting but I have a presentation and another meeting on Monday. I’m actually in the office all day Tuesday and then back home Wednesday to get caught up on other client work – and to get my first tetanus shot. By the time Thursday rolls around, I’ll be out of laundry, need to mow, need to clean and be basically so far behind that it will be hard to get caught up before the holiday weekend. Now that I’ve learned I want to live differently, I can’t do this pace. I’m not willing to let home suffer anymore at the hands of work. It comes first.
And that’s why I decided to call it a career. There is a big part of me that says I could hang on another year or two after next but I’m genuinely not willing to do it. As it is, I’m hoping that by mid-September I can go into slo-mo mode and that by December, I’m largely wound down. I know I have a little work January through March but it’s less than 4 hours a week. That will be perfect for me. My biggest goal? That I’m completely off next summer. Or that if I do take a small gig it’s because it inspires me and not because I have to. I want to finish my book and take care of my little family.
In the end, it was a fabulous career but I see now how it ends – how it was always going to end. I had to get this frustrated and this unhappy before I could call it a career. Otherwise, I was always going to feel guilty if I “quit early.” Now? I genuinely don’t think I’ll feel guilty. In fact, I am so clearly looking forward to this that I may move up that date to December 31st. Who knows?
But what I know? From here on out, I will cherry pick my work. Only those things that inspire me and that I’m fully comfortable doing are on my list. I don’t want the complex, the low-probability of success gigs. Nope. I’ll take that ripe cherry on top, please.
The Yuppie Homesteader 