I know how to do a lot of things. I know how to start a new business, from the Secretary of State paperwork to the policies and procedures. I know how to get a crying three year old not only into the dance room but on her feet, waving a wand, and marching around with glee. I know how to motivate teenagers, console them, foster goal setting inside their minds, and somehow make overachieving their idea. I know how to stir the hearts of 850 people sitting row after row in a theater on a Saturday afternoon in June. I know how to teach the classic Shim Sham to a group of adults who have tap danced only a month or so. I can greet a troubled 13 year old coming in the door, fit a 5 year old for ballet shoes, answer a parent phone call, evaluate whether or not a costume fits, then head to the parking lot to sort out a parking issue…all in a 10-minute span.

What I don’t know how to do: slow down.

Oh, The Evolution is wrought with challenges! Who knew?! Of course, the benefits of NOT doing a thousand things a day, of NOT being consumed by a fast-paced, day-to-day work life, for NOT carrying the weight of dozens of emotional kids and parents, are HUGE. It was that grind that ate me up, chewed on me, and spit me out on my butt. It was that work load that had my body twisted. It was that responsibility, that weight, that constant spotlight, that kept my mind in turmoil. I’m not saying I’m regretful. And, absolutely, I am grateful to be home. This IS what I wanted.

I’m just saying…the transition ain’t easy. I don’t even think I’ve been doing it right.

(Is there a “right” way?)

Since June, my brain has been on the go, go, go. Girl, let’s get it. Retire, retire, retire. Let’s do something new, new, new. I’m going to do, do, do. That’s really how it has looked in there – wide open and repetitive, ready to go, amped, set to take off at any second. I have been looking for something to create. I constantly think about what’s going to happen next. I jump up and run around fixing and cleaning and making and buying and washing and planning.

What about fuzzy blankets? What about naps? What about afternoon cups of coffee?

What about porch sitting? What about wine? What about baking?

What about breakfast with friends? What about Frisbee and kites?

What about books? What about meditation? What about writing?

Y’all my poor, old brain is so wired up to work that it can hardly rest. It is so conditioned to accomplish, to wow, to impress. It is so programmed to create, to manage, to build. It slips so naturally into juggling tasks, making plans, and setting goals. It is torn, SO TORN, all the time, and I often find myself fighting a little bit with my brain (ok, a lot) and running intervention between it and my heart.

I say all this to truly just vent. You can send me a bill for the therapy sesh. Every day, I marvel at The Evolution and how a chick like me ever found herself with this beautiful, messy, rewarding, frustrating, cup-filling, soul-renewing, challenging gift of freedom. A year ago, I would have called you crazy if you had said I would be where I am now. Six months ago, I would have made a nice, neat list of all the totally obvious emotional and intellectual challenges that are expected when one retires. Three months ago, I thought the actual separation from the studio was the hard part. Nope. I’m learning.

I say all this, too, to share the pitfalls of big change (even the ones you prayed for!). With big changes come, well, big change. I hope you read that as profound and not as, duh, obvious. I mean it. I traded the hustle for time, and that has required an internal struggle to unlearn and re-learn, deprogram and reboot, that I did not anticipate.

Am I blessed beyond measure? Completely. Am I complaining? Not at all. I write for therapy. I write to relate. I write to make sense of things. I write to provoke thought. I am learning. Learn with me. I am learning to slow down, and for goofballs like me who thrive on work and people and music and hoopla, old habits die hard. I’m learning that most of all.

Over the last few weeks, especially since my little hospital stay for diverticulitis, my tendency to get lost in the “busy” revealed itself. I can’t get swept away in the current, which is my inclination, my (oddly) comfortable place, the briar patch to my inner Brer Rabbit. The things I actually like to do and want to do are getting lost, just that quick, and I want to learn that balance that afford me a clean house and fresh laundry but also afternoon coffee and a nap.

My house was clean by 11:00 am this morning. I washed five loads of clothes. I even cleaned the oven. Now…let’s stop a while and go fire up the coffee pot…slow down, Girlfriend. You can do it.

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