When one person retires and their partner does not 6

Thoughts from a Retirement Coach

By Mariella Vigneux, MBA, ACC
Certified Professional Coach

If my partner Mark weren’t practising retirement this year, I wouldn’t have had the chance to help move an 800-pound rock this morning before work.  Mark, an elementary school science teacher, is taking a year-long sabbatical from teaching.  To establish routine for his 60-week lolliday, he created a schedule for his mornings, for projects like canoe repairs, tree trimming, fence rebuilding, and bathroom renovations.  The first timeslot each day is for gardening.  That’s what he was doing when he discovered the 800 pound rock.  It was buried in a garden he was reclaiming.  Rather than rebury it, he decided to remove it.  “It’s the challenge of it more than anything,” he said.  He went on to say, “Archimedes said, ‘Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world.’”  And so we moved the world – 17 inches west – and I learned about levers, fulcrums and come-along winches. Moving that rock for no good reason was as useful as many advertising campaigns, political skirmishes, and personal squabbles we see in the world around us.

Life shifts 17 inches west when one person retires and their partner does not.  This I’ve learned so far in Mark’s practise year.

Variety, spontaneity, languor, and love

I work from a home office.  Since the school year ended in June, life has been awash with brilliant colour.  Variety, spontaneity, languor, and love came together in a perfect summer storm.  We have Happy Hour on nights other than the customary Friday night.  Most nights seem to be happy. Days too. Throughout the day, we shout questions back and forth, from my office upstairs to the kitchen or outside where he spends most of his time: Did you get that email from Sylvie?  Did you see the pink hollyhock blooming out back? Should we play ‘jeez’ for 70 points in Word with Friends?  Did you notice that the flycatcher babies have flown?  How do you spell perseverance?

Changes are happening around our property too.  Mark is rebuilding our 30-year-old cedar rail fences.  He has created new paths through the woods, limbed dozens of cedar trees to let the sunset stream through, and moved our winter supply of firewood into the woodshed, refusing my help.  This is the first time in 23 years I have not moved firewood.  And I have never seen Mark’s vegetable patch so weed-free either.

Goldilocks has entered my den

I recognize the honeymoon rose-tinted glasses even as I peer through them.  They haven’t blinded me to the less appealing aspects of this practise retirement… a block of cheese on the counter after the breakfast clear-up; dirty socks and dishes in the living room overnight; boots in the middle of the kitchen Monday to Friday, instead of just weekends; the radio volume turned higher than is comfortable for my ears; the front door left wide open; the cacophony of the chainsaw outside my office window.  Every day, the chair I usually sit in for lunch is taken.  Goldilocks has entered my den.

Setting crankiness aside

I find myself prematurely facing the adjustments many couples struggle with when one retires and the other does not.  I could let myself get edgy about these less pleasing changes, but it doesn’t take long before I remember the wonderful developments I’ve seen in Mark since he went on vacation.  Amazingly, he often gets a full night of sleep now, instead of the five or six hours of broken sleep he gets during the school year.  I can’t remember when this last happened, if ever.  And I often find him sitting restfully – reading, contemplating – instead of his usual two speeds: full-tilt or asleep.  He is now writing – a lifelong desire.  He’s chuckling his way through a musical for school children, a science/nature play about saving the school property from evil gravel-pit developers.  And he’s writing cocky emails to our kids. “I am struggling through yet another week off – I’m getting a bit edgy, though, because I only have 60 weeks left before school starts again.”  Smug bugger!

Lessons learned

Like Mark, I have a year to practise for his full retirement.  What have I learned so far?

• When couples are involved, retirement isn’t an individual decision.

• Time off work to practise retirement is a damn good idea.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if more organizations offered a sabbatical plan like our teachers get?  For example, one model is the three-over-four plan, in which 25% of a teacher’s pay is deferred over three years, and then the teacher is paid 75% salary during the fourth year, the leave of absence year.  Unfortunately, few people get this option, and most people can’t take a whole year off without ruining their pension, depleting their savings, or both.  However, it might be well worth it for those of us still working to take small blocks of vacation, to try out something we think we’d like to do in retirement.

• I’m better off during this practise year directing my attention toward the good things, rather than focussing on small irritants that arise because Mark is in my quiet, controlled workspace.

• I’m going to have to consider my own place in Mark’s retirement, when he chooses to leave work permanently. I always assumed I’d carry on doing what I’m doing, because I’m having fun, but now I think I’ll keep my mind open to other possibilities – even extraordinary ones.

Mark is cherishing the limited amount of time he has off work, an approach he finds much more manageable than when contemplating the expanse of full retirement.  Like moving an 800-pound rock, I guess it helps to look at retirement as incremental shifts over time, instead of as a daunting prospect.  Whether adjusting to Mark’s retirement or settling into my own, I take heart knowing that, with a little help, I can shift myself, and the world, one delightful inch at a time.

By the way, if you haven’t read Mark’s thoughts prior to starting his sabbatical, see Practising retirement and my cover story.