I spend much of my retirement life battling an ugly little monster that has taken up residence in my thoughts. We meet daily, to duke it out; sometimes it wins, and often I do, but I am growing more and more impatient that it is around at all. I would like to have its final surrender and banish it from my life, but I know that will only occur if I can string together a record of many victorious days.
Its name is Inertia.
I remember my 8th grade science teacher, Mrs. Henderson, as she introduced the concept of inertia to us. It went something like this: when an object begins to move, it keeps moving. But if it is still, it will remain still unless another force acts on it.
I am the object. I awake each morning with anticipation of the day, planning the things I want to accomplish, the activities that will bring challenge and fulfillment. And then Inertia runs his slimy little finger across my forehead. I’ll just play one computer game, I think, before I begin my project. I sit on the couch, and turn on the computer. I ignore the Word file where I have a piece of writing to edit. I scroll through the computer games and choose the one I want to play today.
After the first game, I want to play another. I play and play and the time slips by, and I am less inclined to begin a project, less willing to turn the computer off and head out for my morning walk, less excited about the day. My body has come to a rest and there is no outside force to make it move again.
But Inertia is immediately banished if I will begin the plan I had in mind when I first awoke. If I put on my walking shoes and head out from my home, I am energized and ready to take on the tasks that must be finished (but which I can ignore if I have succumbed to the computer). I tackle the few household chores that are waiting, I do the morning calisthenics, I open my Word document, I begin a painting. None of this is possible unless I resist Inertia’s first call. Simply starting the activity seems too simple, and yet that is the key. To overcome the hesitancy to begin, I simply begin.
This daily battle is manageable, if exasperating. But a more dangerous form of Inertia, an inability to change the direction of destructive habits, can also challenge retirees. If we hold the belief that we are cannot break free from these habits, habits that we have indulged for so long that they seem to be a part of our identity, we are stuck, our mental attitudes the bodies at rest.
How many of us have promised ourselves, day to day and year to year, to change these habits? How often have we pledged to lose the extra weight, or quit smoking, or exercise daily or become better money managers? (There are many more examples which I am certain readers can provide) One rationale for putting off change is that tomorrow (or Monday, or the day after a holiday) is soon enough to begin. But, at retirement age, we are beginning to see the end result of those bad choices, the negative habits that we believed we would get around to dealing with ¼later.
To some of us, I have noticed, retirement seems to mean that we have passed a line of possibility. The promises that we made over and over no longer seem realistic. “Now that I am retired,” this reasoning goes, “I cannot lose this weight, put down the cigarettes, exercise, or manage my money. This is just the way I am.”
And yet these bad habits continue to impact the quality of our lives.
But suppose that retirement is the time, at last, to end these habits? What an accomplishment it would be to change a life of trudging down a destructive path, go in a better direction, and produce a positive outcome.
How can we do that? I hope that, in your comments, you will catalogue some of your successful strategies to change direction. Here is one that I have found works for me.
My great challenge has been to put a stop to emotional eating. In spite of the negative effects of this behavior, I have continually convinced myself that such eating is a reward, that I deserve another cookie or a little ice cream. If I am sad, anxious, or bored, I fall for the idea that a piece of candy or a handful of potato chips will make me feel better. I suspect that smokers, or those who turn to alcohol, or shopping, or computer games or television, among other habits, also believe that these activities are a reward. But how do they reward us? They may produce temporary relief, but do they, in the long run, make us feel better, solve the issue we have been dealing with, or improve the quality of our lives?
I have found another way. I’ve noticed how exhilarating it can be, physically and mentally, to spend a day eating healthy foods; to exercise moderately; to make time in a busy day to enjoy these positive choices. Ask a former smoker how much better she feels, how her senses of taste and smell have increased, how good it is to breathe clean air. This is the true reward; experiencing the result of the new positive habits can make those choices attractive, and produce positive euphoria.
One caveat: I try to avoid making sweeping promises to change my bad habits now and forever. Instead, I depend on two of the mantras of 12 Step groups: first, I do not try to exert sheer will power to overcome my habit; I depend on a higher power. And, second, I work to change one day at a time. I expect that, as I practice these positive steps, Inertia will retreat to a back corner, and I will become, physically and mentally, a body in motion.
9/16/2014