One Year

Original title for this post was to be "100 Days," as this is the 100th day of my own, personal lockdown, but that's too depressing.

But it's also the one-year anniversary of my retirement.  I officially left the work force June 30, 2019.  Chill out at home, I thought, take a little time for my various other interests.  What could possibly go wrong?

Other than a global pandemic, eviction of my tenant, a recession bordering on a full-blown depression, and a nationwide reckoning with our legacy of systemic racism and police brutality?  

Still, I don't regret retiring.  It was time.  I wasn't happy at work, and my career, once the center of my sense of self identity, no longer brought me satisfaction.  Life is too short to be spent voluntarily doing something you don't like and I had to move on.

The real blessing for me is that now I'm not having to make painful choices between returning to the office workplace and risking my health for the sake of my livelihood, or staying home and healthy at  the risk of personal bankruptcy.

Per my plan, the money just in my checking account lasted me through the year without having to touch my savings account, my IRA, or the various 401(K) nest-eggs I have stashed around the financial world.  Starting next month, my Social Security payments will start.

So even though current events have thrown some of their worst at me, I've managed to survive and pretty much stay on plan.  The rent money from my tenant is missed, but that's not a game-changer.  I will survive this - we will survive this - and somewhere on the other side when all this is over we'll look back and breathe a sigh of relief.