After a major life change - grown children moving out, a job loss, or even simply retirement - we might find ourselves feeling directionless. Truth be told, we often identify ourselves with our roles – whether that be as a parent, a wife, or a teacher. Definitions provide comfort for us, make our actions feel purposeful. But when a life change comes along - the children move out, the marriage ends, or we retire or need to change jobs we tend to feel unmoored. Even losses that appear potentially freeing - such as leaving an unpleasant job - can leave us feeling unbalanced. Adjusting takes time. And sometimes, we are so busy feeling anxious about the change, we don’t necessarily see the opportunity that comes with it.
We may need to let go of overidentifying with our past “role” - especially if it was one that depended on external recognition. If our self-worth was tied to a job title (perhaps as a professor or a worksite inspector), being recognized as an authority figure (say a doctor or a teacher), or possibly just being ’easily placed’ in the societal structure - as in “Oh, that’s so-and-so’s wife” - can make us too reliant on external validation. Such reliance is bound to lead to dissatisfaction because we generally don’t hold onto our roles forever. Whether an empty nest mom who finds her adult daughter calling less or a retired professor, we have to take charge of defining ourselves and finding meaning in our days.
Take satisfaction in whomever you decide to be from now on! Perhaps you’re a retired nurse who decides to volunteer as a library events coordinator. Or an empty-nest mom who decides to coordinate an after school program. And yes, one could also re-define oneself as a couch potato - but let’s face it - is that really bringing value to anything but the couch? Take a bird’s eye view. What if you were looking down like an omniscient narrator? What would you say to the protagonist of your story?
To offer an unlikely example, take the movie “Gangs of New York.” The main character Amsterdam faces off against the dangerous gang leader William Cutting (‘Bill the Butcher’). He ultimately defeats the Butcher, and Amsterdam is able to escape the chaos of 1863 New York City with his paramour Jenny. The last frames of the film are strangely poignant: decades fly by and the local graveyard becomes overgrown with weeds while the tenement-filled streets transform into modern-day Manhattan. The individual story of Jenny and Amsterdam’s love becomes lost and forgotten - with new stories replacing theirs. Granted, this could be considered depressing: what’s the point if no-one remembers? But taking a step back - hasn’t this been true also in your own life? In your family photo album, you obviously recall your parents quite well, your grandparents less so. What about your great-grandparents? Probably don’t know very many details about them, huh?
The point is - there’s something strange about the stories of our lives: they only have resonance in the now as we are living them. You can either find that depressing - “Why bother anyway?” or highly focusing - “If my life is about ‘the now,’ then I had better savor every moment and find meaning while I am here.”