Here I am, on the cusp of the first day I could legally have enjoyed the “Freedom 55” experience, and I’m wondering if the whole concept was really just another marketing lie from the banks and trust companies. The reality is, as much as the notion of saying goodbye to the proverbial punch clock sounds appealing, I don’t think I’m mature enough to deal with it. Sure, I could handle working a few hours less or more flexibility in my work schedule, but really…stop working? I may as well stop breathing.
Not that I think the concept is over-rated. My father worked hard most of his life, brick-breaking hard. If anyone deserved to kick back and watch afternoon bowling at age 55 it was my dad. He would have likely enjoyed the hours of not breaking bricks. For me, its not about being employed and bringing home the bacon. Its about how much I feel like I’m contributing towards the overall effort of inching forward in whatever field I’m working in. I feel validated by my contribution and, quite frankly, I fear not being a contributor anymore. Its as though I’d be making the transition from contributor to ….beneficiary? I don’t know when I’ll be ready to close my business inbox …but I do know that it’s not on my 55th birthday.
I remember, not so long ago, feeling a bit bitter over a piece of paper I came across as I was cleaning a file cabinet. It was a pamphlet from HR, written 20 years ago when being 55 was inconceivable to me, informing me that I’d be eligible for a significant but a tad reduced pension on my 55th birthday. Reading that, so close to the actual date, made me feel a bit bitter that I’d been laid off without the opportunity to finish off my career like those I’d left behind.
On this day, I realize how ridiculous such bitterness was in the grander context of who I am now and how I got here. Since that pamphlet was printed, I’ve created a whole new identity and redefined myself in ways that the recipient of that printed matter could never have imagined, even in his most grandiose dreams. The sweetness of this reality easily overcomes any bitter taste that early retirement fantasies might have held for me. This reality, the one I’m living in, is by far the best outcome I could have imagined. And, quite frankly, the best present I could have on this 55th year of my existence, is the knowledge that I didn’t follow the path that looked so comforting when my HR department charted my future 20 years ago.