When I was working, I was always worried about staying employed.
It probably explains why one of my personal philosophies was to never stop learning and never say, “That’s not my job.” I was always willing to take on something new, learn another skill, or volunteer for a project if it made me more valuable. Looking back, that mindset served me well throughout my career.
Now that I’m retired, that particular worry is gone.
Unfortunately, life has a way of replacing one worry with another.
I still think about finances, although it’s a different kind of concern now. Instead of wondering about the next promotion or career move, it’s about making sure retirement lasts as long as I do.
I still worry about my kids.
I suspect that never goes away. No matter how old they become, they’re still your children.
Then there’s the worry I never really considered when I was younger.
The end of life.
When you’re twenty or thirty, it feels so far away that you rarely think about it. Even in my forties and fifties, it barely crossed my mind.
Somewhere around sixty, though, your perspective changes.
I’m sixty-three now. I don’t consider myself old, and fortunately I’m relatively healthy. But you begin to realize you’ve lived more years than you probably have left. That changes the way you think about time.
I don’t dwell on it, and I certainly don’t fear every day.
Instead, I appreciate time a little more than I used to.
I want the years I have left to be good years. Years filled with family, good books, travel, learning new things, writing, and making memories instead of collecting regrets.
Maybe that’s what aging really does.
It doesn’t eliminate worry.
It simply teaches you which worries are worth keeping.
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