Learning and understanding

I celebrated my 50th birthday this week.  As everyone has pointed out, it’s a milestone; half a century.  It’s an age that I wasn’t sure that I would actually reach, given last year’s particular challenges.  I decided to have a gala event to celebrate, since my doctor had withheld permission for me to travel.  The event was marvellous, with many of my close friends there to share with me. When I turned 40, I was horribly depressed.  I didn’t want to be 40.  It sounded like I was old, passé, ready to be turned out to pasture and beyond help.  I felt like I had failed in many of my goals, and that I would never accomplish anything worthwhile.  My friends did come out to celebrate, but I kept it very low-key, and issued a ban on any commemorative “you’re 40” material.  I spent time comparing myself to my contemporaries and colleagues, and felt that I hadn’t accomplished anything.    I was full of regrets and recriminations. Obvious...

It’s been a year since I was stopped from working.  A year when I have worked to redefine myself and find meaning in a confusing world.  I haven’t. I’d like to pretend that I have but… So a year ago when I dropped off my certificate saying that I would not be working, I was probably one of the few people who expected that I would be here this year — I had said to my doctor that my goal was to be travelling for my birthday this year.  He was diplomatic but not too optimistic. As I’ve documented elsewhere, it hasn’t been an easy year.  Giving up my identity as a public servant was not something that I had expected for a while yet, and ending my working time abruptly was difficult.  Balancing my sudden liberty with my treatments was also not enjoyable.  As my strength returned, my frustrations also grew.  It’s been hard, but I had to admit that my capacity for work is not where it used to be; that I cannot manage anything like a full day’s work, and I ...