How I am Learning and Growing Through Life’s Transitions

In this lat­er part of my life, I have expe­ri­enced many tran­si­tions, which may lead one to won­der why Artificial Intelligence was used for the above def­i­n­i­tion. It is because I am in a tran­si­tion, and at times it is dif­fi­cult to see the for­est for the trees.

Going to col­lege was my first big tran­si­tion. I was hap­py to leave high school behind and get to the next, and I assumed last, phase of edu­ca­tion. Whoops—education is life­long, as I dis­cov­ered. But adult edu­ca­tion by liv­ing and doing is way more fun than being in class, even while the con­se­quences of learn­ing slow­ly or being obsti­nate about it are far more serious.

Moving is a tran­si­tion, some­times brought on by pur­su­ing high­er edu­ca­tion and some­times by more per­son­al choic­es. I moved to Pittsburgh for col­lege. A year after grad­u­at­ing, I moved back to my home­town because I was tired of life in the big city. Several years after that, I moved to Kentucky, which was a huge tran­si­tion and required a lot of learning—not just how to get to wher­ev­er, or which store to choose, but learn­ing about an entire­ly dif­fer­ent cul­ture. That was eye-open­ing, sad, and fun.

I start­ed a new career, and that was an edu­ca­tion that was almost always fun. I learned from col­leagues, boss­es, clients, con­fer­ences, and experiences.

I retired, and that was fun. Initially, I did not think about the word “tran­si­tion” in that phase of life. I did lots of projects at home and enjoyed much less stress and more free time. But that did not last—I got bored and found a part-time job, then anoth­er. That phase revert­ed to too much stress, so I quit the first job. The sec­ond was fun and reward­ing and near­ly stress-free. It pro­vid­ed a rou­tine I most­ly enjoyed, and I was able to sleep an hour lat­er than dur­ing my for­mer career.

The most chal­leng­ing tran­si­tion I have expe­ri­enced was not mine. It was my beloved husband’s tran­si­tion to being elder­ly. It is very hard to watch some­one you love—someone who was rough and tough and active and strong—become the oppo­site. In addi­tion to see­ing that hap­pen, one also sees the frus­tra­tion and anger and sad­ness of the per­son you love suc­cumb­ing to a very dif­fi­cult tran­si­tion. Death is inevitable for all of us, but the slow decline is depress­ing and hurts the heart and the mind of the per­son declin­ing, as well as that person’s loved one.

Then came what has been for me the most dif­fi­cult tran­si­tion. Alone. 

I have always been hap­py to spend time alone as well as with peo­ple. But every day, mak­ing all the deci­sions alone is so very dif­fer­ent. Enjoying the house we built togeth­er, watch­ing “our” wildlife, decid­ing on main­te­nance com­pa­nies and con­trac­tors, whether to remod­el, where and when to trav­el, our every­day rou­tine; this was all new and not much fun.

And that is when it hit me: I am in transition.

This is a phase, a major life tran­si­tion, a time of per­son­al devel­op­ment. How will I become this new per­son? I am still me, but not the exact same me. I have lost half of me, yet I do not feel incom­plete. I feel dif­fer­ent, miss­ing my oth­er half, but know­ing this is what I am now. It is not the time for me to stop liv­ing, doing, and par­tic­i­pat­ing. But what do I do with all the time I didn’t have before, with all the emo­tions I used to share, with all the unspo­ken thoughts and ideas?

I think this will be a very long tran­si­tion. And as dif­fi­cult as it may be, I have learned from past expe­ri­ences that some­thing good always comes from some­thing bad. I am hop­ing the new me will be more patient, more under­stand­ing, and bet­ter educated.