I am ECSTATIC to be retiring, make no mistake (!) Nevertheless, I am having definite feelings of grief I need to reconcile given the nature of my work and career path.

The biggest challenge I face is the knowledge that I am obviously a better physical therapist than I have ever been, that it took a lifetime to get here and I almost feel as if I am deserting my self, abandoning my soul.    “What? You mean I worked so hard and you’re leaving NOW, just when we’re getting good at this?  Where is your dedication?  You could still get better! Do more! You owe it to yourself and the people who need you!” (Insert get-over-yourself here)   I suppose it is a testament to my passion (both love and hate) about my chosen career.

Then there’s that whole “where has the time gone” aspect of this as well:

– the excitement back in 1978 in New York when this philosophy degree girl fell headfirst into circumstances which landed me into a world I never knew existed. Suddenly I had true and undeniable purpose and direction.

– the thrill of enrolling in community college to take (gulp) chemistry. Getting an A (barely passed in high school).  Moving back to Illinois to pursue the path in earnest.

– the ecstasy of realizing physics and math wasn’t so scary and was not above my intelligence grade.

– the satisfaction of getting into PT school after all my hard work and dispelling once and for all the Mary Myth that I couldn’t do math and science.

So there’s that, but it’s more than that. It’s sifting through my office; how the practice has changed in 36 years. My file full of standardized functional tests – how helpful those would have been early in my career, but the profession had not progressed that far when I first began.  The profession progressed and I with it. I’m proud of that.

Although I sometimes hated the drudgery (read: documentation paperwork which, for for teachers, nurses, doctors and lord knows who else, has become a modern day scourge) I never lost passion for the practice itself, working with patients to heal what ails ’em.

The internet brought more information to my fingertips and suddenly scientific journals were not hard to access.  I could readily get lost in a rabbit hole of PT knowledge.

I know the door is not locked. I am not burning my license. I just renewed my CPR just in case (it WILL be the last time- I think every two years for 36 years is about enough.)

The truth is, though, that I don’t want to go back.  It is that feeling that grieves me.  It was so good. It was so fulfilling.  It stretched me and challenged me and allowed me to realize that nothing was really outside my intellectual ability if I really wanted it.  Indeed, formed and defined me.

I need to reconcile that feeling that I am somehow betraying that 26 year old lamb who was lost and then found her way.  I’m leaving her behind to pursue music – my first passion but due to shyness and lack of confidence I didn’t nurture it for many years except for late night piano concertos to nobody or singing my lungs out to an empty house.  I’m also  leaving her  to go to my hobby happy place – the quilting room.

I’m leaving her, but not without a great sense of gratitude, pride, love and yes, grief. You did good, girl.  Now go forth and  do more. Love you.