A Starting Over at 60 Blog
Last night, the dream came back. I am at a meeting with one of my former employers. I shouldn’t be there. But I am. A formal meeting in a high-end hotel plays out before me. I observe, both in and out of the scene. They ask me to perform a task as if I am still an employee. Sometimes I do it, but in last night’s dream, I chuckled because I don’t work for them anymore. I watch, as if I’m outside the dream, knowing I can no longer be harmed.
These dreams used to occur frequently, but they are infrequent now, perhaps every 6 months. They occur right before waking in the morning. When I do wake, I feel as if I’m still in the dream, as if my life hadn’t changed drastically after all. The disorientation clears immediately. I am left with residue of some kind. Loss hovers, flitting and filmy, unable to be grasped. I get up to go about my day. The residue evaporates, a dove lifting from my shoulder, receding into a cloudless sky.
Today, the dove stayed, its mourning gray an appropriate pall. It’s silly to experience such loss over a job. It’s not really the job, though. It’s the career loss, the late career job loss. Sixty is too early to suddenly start over, and too late to have the opportunity to start over. At this age, no employer pursues. Too expensive, too experienced, too knowledgeable, too confident. Who will hire a former executive-level employee to report into someone who’s done less, knows less, feels less sure? How does someone who oversaw a team of hundreds become a reportee into a team of 5 or 20?
This is when I remind myself: I AM starting over at sixty. I have invested in my goals, my dreams rather than those handed to me in annual reviews. I have kept my promises. I’ve written a book about the topic of late-career job loss. I’ve filled this blog with over one hundred entries, sharing— perhaps too intimately— my struggles and stories. I’ve tried to build my franchise Jazzercise studio, a business with so much current relevance, an image problem and an out of touch corporate team. I’ve sold my home and possessions. I’ve saved and invested. I’ve paid off debt. I’ve been available to my struggling daughters. Nothing has been easy. Nothing has turned from trial into triumph.
How long will it take, this activity called “starting over”? When does starting become started? When will I look back to reflect: “Boy this was hard, but so worth it”? For now, I’ll keep hup-two-three-fouring up the hill, my feet soar in my flattened boots, sweat finding new pathways in my wrinkled crevices. This trudge is life.
I will remain calm and trudge on. That’s what I do. I will continue to search for the readers my book is meant for. I’ll shamelessly ask others to invest in me and my book. Because I’m worth it. Because it’s never been just about me. I’ve always wanted to make life better for others. I still do.
I would love to hear from you, even if, especially if, you disagree. Perhaps we can bring back the American tradition of debate. Please like and share this blog with others. Subscribe to receive it by email and go directly to the Walk the Moon website (www.walk-the-moon.com) to peruse the full collection of articles and updates. You can email me from the Walk the Moon website as well.
Walk the Moon 