Finding My Footing

Photo Credit: Gavin Fernandes @photaugraf

I have been having weird dreams lately, I’ve heard experts calling them Covid dreams, but all I know is that I keep having recurring visions where I am back at work. I’m sitting at a desk in the middle of a hallway, and my former co-workers are smirking. Everyone asks me what I do all day, am I bored, and do I regret leaving my job? 

Backtrack to 2019, pre-pandemic. I had been at my clerical job for nearly 30 years. I was fortunate enough to find my job while I was still studying at McGill back in 1986. What started as a part-time job at the university became a full-time reality after I graduated.

Like so many young people at the time, I was not sure what I wanted to do. A general B.A. left the door wide open to follow any path. But, that steady paycheque at my support staff position afforded me the luxury of being able to pay off my university loans while generating a sense of direction, something I desperately needed at the time.

I started working on an IBM electric typewriter with a correctable film ribbon. Over the years I witnessed not only the wonders of technological advances but other massive changes in work-culture, many that were not so great. What I had most enjoyed about my clerical job, as tedious as it could be at times, was the ever-present sense of camaraderie that balanced out any bad days. But as the years went on and our workspace and cubicles became more confined and reduced, so too did our human interactions.  

I gave my notice at the end of December 2019, jumping into early retirement with hope, and a plan to create something better. I thought 2020 had a good ring to it, little did I know then, the explosive turmoil that awaited us all.

Those last few weeks of 2019 were a complete blur. I knew I was leaving but still, the whole thing felt surreal. I was not only leaving the only job I had ever known, but I was also leaving my cherished colleagues and a steady income. On the outside, I might have appeared calm and decisive but on the inside, I was full of mixed emotions and self-doubt. I was airborne without a parachute, just hoping that I would somehow land on my feet - and I did.

My plan post-retirement dates back to 1997 when I took a one-year leave without pay to enroll at the School of Natural Therapies to complete a certificate in Foot Reflexology.  At that time, it was still an emerging form of therapy. To put it simply, it espouses the principle that by mapping the body to the feet and stimulating specific precise reflexes, we can facilitate a state of well-being and deep relaxation.

Not everyone was on board with my newfound interest. My parents thought I joined some sort of crazy cult! By the summer of 1997, I had successfully completed the requirements for a Certificate in Foot Reflexology, but my leave had come to an end, and I was due back at work.

Around that same time, we got the shocking news that my mother-in-law, who was then only 57-years-old, was diagnosed with acute leukemia. My attention quickly shifted to other more pressing family matters and reflexology got placed on a back burner. The years passed with many devastating losses, but throughout it all my solid foundation of my husband and job remained intact.

My decision to retire early and begin my second act was inspired primarily by two things. I sorely missed being in meaningful communicative experiences with people, and I was thinking of my mother-in-law who died far too young, and never had the chance to retire or reach her golden years. I was feeling a sense of urgency and eagerness to move into the next phase of my life. So I took the plunge and left my job, and then the pandemic hit.

While the first wave was raging on, I sheltered in place and immersed myself in studying for the requirements of an updated and mandatory designation of Registered Canadian Reflexology Therapist.

I was also extremely fortunate to have the great opportunity to observe firsthand the benefits of this gentle therapy with an all too short run offering my services as a volunteer at the West Island Cancer and Wellness Centre. The rewards of doing something positive and beneficial for people who needed it so desperately had a boomerang effect on my own mental health. It is what kept me afloat during those harrowing early months of the pandemic.

By the end of August, I was able to take the reflexology exam, and I was notified that I had passed the course in September. I was a full-fledged reflexologist now, ready to launch my new business, just in time for the run-up to the “second wave”.   

Now I find myself living this “second wave” as it coincides with my stalled “second act”. The decision to put my dream of starting my own reflexology practice on pause has been very difficult. But I am hopeful that once this pandemic is under control, I will feel safer and more confident to resume the logistics of starting up a new business and attracting clients. 

Then, the dreams hit. Those vivid visions of my former co-workers, smirking, wondering what am I doing with myself. Why did I leave a good job? This is when the doubt sets in. So much of our identity is wrapped up in our titles, and mine has been stripped, albeit willingly. I don’t have a title right now. I’m afloat without a label. 

So, I am focussing on the labels that really matter: loving wife, sister, aunt, and friend. I may have hit a roadblock in my second act performance, but I know it’s temporary.

I am not bored; I keep myself busy with online fitness classes and webinars. My husband is benefiting from his scheduled free reflexology appointments. I think these have kept us both grounded as we navigate these strange and scary days together. 

I’m learning not to feel guilty about not being busy anymore. We do not need to wait until a dire diagnosis is upon us to take stock of what really matters. I am so grateful for my unhurried life right now. And when the weird dreams hit, I will face them down, rollover, and remember why I am here and the bright future that lies ahead. As soon as this pandemic is over I will be ready, to put my best foot forward, and create the life that has been inside me all along.