Scenes from the soft chair
What you see now that you finally sit still
You have always been someone who likes to move, stay busy, and get things done.
Even now, as you slow down to retirement or part-time work, you feel compelled to fill your days.
A walk turns into a longer walk, a fitness class becomes a routine. It always feels like there is something to do, somewhere to go, a reason to keep your body and mind in motion.
It is not simply about health, discipline or even enjoyment.
It is something much more because when you stop and slow down, it feels almost uncomfortable and unfamiliar. Perhaps you feel anxious and question why you are feeling this way.
After all, you are entitled to slow down, to sit down. You have put in the time and earned it.
What about the hard work over the decades when you showed up for family and work colleagues, even when you felt like saying, ‘enough is enough.’ You have done what needed to be done.
Now here you are, the opportunity to adjust to a slow pace, and yet sitting still does not feel quite as easy as it should.
There is a feeling of anxiety and restlessness that creeps in; you can’t quite put your finger on it, it is a quiet discomfort, almost a sense of guilt, that now, in this stage of your life, you are finally entitled to step back, to slow down.
All the while, there is that niggling thought at the back of your mind that you should be doing something.
So you get up again after what seems like an eternity sitting down, when in essence it has been no more than five minutes.
What do you do instead?
You reorganise a drawer, tidy up your desk and stack important letters in a pile. You check your phone, maybe you go for another walk. You decide it is time to sign up for that Tai Chi class you have been meaning to do.
There is a voice inside that is compelling you to fill the space, the void, before it has a chance to settle.
This is what most friends and colleagues I have spoken to have discovered is the hardest adjustment at this time of life: the kids have gone, you are edging closer to retirement, there are still things you want to achieve, but the truth is they probably aren’t quite as compelling as they once were.
What you are learning is that slowing down is not just about having more time; it is more to do with coping with that niggling voice, the one that says you need to be doing something, you need to make better use of your time and fill those damn time gaps.
It is a generational thing, undeniably a big shift and adjustment. It might be subtle, but it is a big change.
Work is changing, or ending, your roles are loosening, perhaps not so clearly defined, and the structure that once shaped your days is no longer as solid as it used to be.
What is in its place?
Gaps in the day where this newfound space feels like freedom, a release from the old ties that bind you. Other times it feels like uncertainty, an angst that flaws you, making you question what you should be doing now.
There are questions you ask yourself that you used to dream of when your work life was full-on, when you were desperate to slow down and take a step back from your working life.
Is this how I want to spend my time?
What do I want to do that brings me joy?
Who am I now that I am no longer needed in the same way?
These feel like huge questions, and they don’t come with easy answers.
Instead, it feels easier to keep doing what you have been doing, stick to the familiar rhythm of filling in the gaps of time.
You have to prove that you are active, capable, and making the most of your time.
Sitting still feels strangely unnerving and uncomfortable, as if you want to escape the quiet.
What you are trying to come to terms with is a low-level anxiety, an unfamiliar feeling in your stomach, and an uneasiness that is new and all-encompassing when you do sit still.
As hard as it is to adjust to this newfound space, there is nothing wrong with feeling this way. It takes time and slow adaptation.
You are adjusting to a life that no longer demands the same version of you, and all of this takes time and patience.
And while it feels uncomfortable, there is a sense of purpose and clarity.
You begin to recognise what you have given all these years, who you have been to the people around you. The workload you have carried, not just professionally, but the familial load, and now you can begin to let go of it all.
Slowing down is not about doing less just because you can, but about making time to sit, think and see more clearly.
The goal is not to stop moving forward and feel ‘that this is it’, but rather to notice what is important to you and what you want to do now.
This stage of life is not about becoming a new you; it is about recognising what you want now.
And that is a lot to adjust to and take in.
You are becoming more aware of this change and learning how to take it all in.
If this feels familiar, you really are not alone.
It is an unusual transition as you go from full-on productivity to slowing down, having more time to do the things you have wanted to do for so long.
But mostly, to adjust and appreciate that you need this time to relax and enjoy the freedom that you are finally entitled to.
It just takes time!
Question: What have you been too busy to admit to yourself?
Action: Sit still and notice your thoughts, your body, your truth about work and relationships, what is changing now, and how does this make you feel?
Permission: Experience the discomfort of stillness and how it makes you feel, acknowledge it and accept it is part of moving forward into the next stage of your life.
