Is this what guilt feels like..?
If you ignore the bout of insomnia / reading at 04:30, my day thus far:
09:00-10:00 - editing; minor bits of social media; processing entries for the Coverstory books poetry competition;
10:00-10:45 - finishing the lawn-mowing I started yesterday and raking-up some dead moss (the Clematis started flowering today!);
1045… sitting on the patio (see above) and feeling, well, guilty - I think.
I know I shouldn’t. I worked hard for forty years (including one nervous breakdown) so have ‘earned’ what I now have: a patio, a lawn to mow etc. But most importantly, time to write.
And I do. Writing and writing-related activity occupies me on average at least three hours per day, every day. It’s wonderful. It allows me to produce new things, explore ideas, talk to people like you on Substack - and yet there’s a nagging at the back of my mind that tells me I should be doing something else. Or that I shouldn’t be enjoying this freedom.
I’m sure all this has something to do with time and history - my favourite subjects!
A lot of my angst can probably be traced back to a difficult childhood (Freud would probably have a field-day!) and what might be termed a socially-imposed work ethic. Yet even though I know that, even though I can rationalise why I’m feeling the way I do, there’s an element of me that simply won’t let the breaks off. “Fill your boots!” one voice tells me; “Ah, but hang on a minute…” says another.
Maybe this is just a phase of adjustment. Maybe I’ll have some kind of epiphany along the way. After all those years of working, looking after the family, perhaps I’m simply not used to being selfish. Perhaps it’s Imposter Syndrome, or some other fancy ‘ism’. Who knows?
For now I’ll keep plugging away and seeking inspiration, readers, dialogue.
It’s all part of the journey…
I retired literally one month ago and I feel the same way; vaguely guilty, like I should be doing something productive. But honestly, what's more productive than what I'm doing now? I garden, cut firewood, do some blacksmithing or carpentry if I feel like it, write my bits of doggerel...I'm actually making stuff now, not just a cog in a big machine. But why do I view this as not productive?
I guess I know the answer to what Charles Bukowski asked; "Do you remember who you were before the world told you who you should be?" I don't think I do...but I want to remember...
It took me a good year after retiring from university teaching to allow myself the luxury of truly embracing my own time and goals. It had always been disciplined to my writing life, but this was a new era. It's part of the process, and it does come together in a most wonderful way.