At about 5pm on Thursday, I shut down my laptop on the day’s work for the very last time, or so I imagine. We never really know what the future has in mind. I’m calling it early retirement, although I’m a few years away from getting any form of pension.
Sitting in an armchair drinking coffee at 11:30 on a Wednesday morning is a strange experience. The prospect of being able to do this would have seemed like nirvana this time last year. Although not quite nirvana now, it does feel pretty good.
I’ve only been ‘retired’ for four days, and I know that this carefree high isn’t going to last forever; however, I’m enjoying it while it lasts! I have been working, without a break, for the last 46 years and as time passed, living to someone else’s timetable became increasingly constraining. The freedom to work, or not, when you want, to take a holiday when you need, is so liberating. I don’t underestimate the privilege of having this opportunity; I’m aware that so many of us don’t have the choice to stop working, and I’m incredibly grateful.
So, What Do I Do Now?
I could fill a small book with all the ideas I’ve had, things I’ve wanted to make, and projects that I haven’t started, never mind finished. My first priority is to get well, or at least to manage my antidepressant withdrawal as best as possible. Not spending over eight hours a day sitting behind a desk will help. Other than that, I’m going to start some much-needed work in the garden by planting some vegetable seeds. Gardening should help my physical health and, if all goes well, our diet.
I’m desperate to get back on my bike. I don’t like using the car for local journeys. Whereas I used to enjoy cycling to the supermarket and loading up my panniers, driving to the store feels like a chore. I’ve written about my box camera project, which I seem to have been planning for years! I’m eager to start, but I keep reminding myself to take it slowly.
The Elephant Is Still in the Room
My withdrawal symptoms have fallen into a very distinct pattern. For two or three days, I feel okay; my hands and legs are uncomfortable, but with the aid of paracetamol, I get a reasonable night’s sleep.
This is generally followed by about a week where the effects slowly peak and then tail off. I get the same several waves of pain each day, most noticeably overnight and in the morning. Sleep goes from difficult to nonexistent, and I find myself talking to the pain, as though telling it to f*** off might make a difference. Of course, knowing I don’t need to get up for work the following morning makes a big difference.
As of this moment, on this Wednesday morning, it’s not bad. I’ve all but drunk my coffee, and I need to go to the store, although for now my bike stays in the shed.
Take care. N.
For Professional Advice
Dr Mark Horowitz’s website offers the most practical, professional advice I’ve found online. The academic papers are impenetrable to the nonprofessional. But he has useful links to newspaper articles which explain things in layman’s terms. The UK mental health charity, Mind, is also a good resource.
Broken Biscuits 