::The trouble with retirement is you never get a day off.:: — Abe Lemon
This is going to be a tricky post. First of all, I'm not retired, and neither are the majority of women living abroad. Secondly, the majority of News From A Broad readers are in their 50s'. That's not to say that someone in their 50s' or younger can't be retired, but statistically, for this site, they aren't.
So, why am I bothering? Moving abroad is probably one of the more decisive decisions you have ever made over the course of your life! I cannot think of a situation where I was more fully cognizant that I alone was responsible for my own path. By this I mean that there were so many decisions before crossing into a foreign country, there could be no mistaking that I was making a choice. Our lives have generally followed the path outlined by our culture and lived by our cohorts. We don't begin to make life directing decisions until we are in our teens, and even those are typical of our peer group.
Moving abroad isn't typical for my age group in my country of origin, and neither is being retired at my age. When we land in our new countries, those of us who have not arrived due to foreign work opportunities, will eventually reach a point where looking at the encore life ahead of us is viewed with exhilaration, while for others, the future seems dismally dull. I happen to have both moments, while chewing on the same waffle bite! What can I say, I am Type A.
The first year of living abroad is typically referred to as the honeymoon stage. All is bliss even when you are stressing out because you can't read any of the grocery item labels, let alone bake a successful cake in your propane powered oven with unfamiliar heat degree ranges. Of course, as a Type A, you don't dispair! Instead, you view learning that the flour isn't leavened and that the altitude change need to be taken into account for the next cake, as an "OF COURSE!" moment. Yep, you're pretty clever my broads abroad!
Eventually, the daily living skills readjust themselves and you are wondering what mischief you can get into next. At this point, congratulate yourself. You have fully landed! Do you throw a party? No, you look out your window and think, "Oh, but all those poor children, and all those poor dogs, and all those poor homes, and all those poor potholes", are all calling to you, the only Super Woman on the planet that can save them. NOT! Stop right there! You came to your new country for an adventure, for a change, for the view, for the smells, for the opportunity to create the life you have always wanted. The "poor every things" can wait, just like they have been waiting for centuries.
I know you could place a stopper into one of the millions of pin-prick size holes in the vessel of the "poor every things". You are a fierce beauty, a machine that moves with exquisite precision, and capable of making unbelievably accurate connections between seemingly disparate concepts. Do you really want to spend your encore life repeating what you have always been good at, namely giving the planet time-saving tidbits, sponsoring others, and crying over their spilled milk?
Everything about our former lives creates a stability that is as predictable as a waltz. Whether that life was filled with dramatic highs, or an even keel, familiarity is the god of repetition, demanding sameness, and that makes breaking patterns nearly impossible. In my own newly landed state, I recall telling one of my new expatriate girlfriends something like, "but you don't know me! I have one hundred degrees, and a thousand friends, and I ran a million dollar company. I'm competent!" So what. The point is, you can go save the every things. Just remember to save room for a new you. Retired or or not, human beings have a compelling need to feel relevant, and in that relevancy, we can allow the country we now call home, to teach us some new dance steps.
¡Viva la Revolución, Ya'll!
The Broad
1 comment:
I love this! and hope we will still meet, one day.
Pen
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