We can all picture it. It could be a favourite one, a family heirloom passed down from your parents or their parents. Maybe it was a gift from a friend, partner, or children. Or it may have been a purchase you made for yourself, something that caught your eye and gave you joy in that moment, either by its simple beauty or something which evokes a memory of simpler times.
Snow globes have always fascinated me. There are so many kinds, large or small, some that play music when wound up, and some that light up with a couple of batteries. When I hold them in my hands before shaking them, I try to picture myself inside them, imagining I am one of the townspeople, enjoying a beautiful day, ensconced in a timeless, picturesque, and perfect world where I am protected from beyond by a glass bubble where nothing can penetrate my peaceful existence.
Then, like an asshole, I shake it.
The world inside this allegory of life is now surrounded by snow, and depending on how vigorous the shake is, it can be a delightfully pleasant and silent falling or a storm where you need to batten down the hatches and run for cover.
My wife and I often use the term ‘it’s time to shake the snow globe’ when we feel stagnant or are in a place where we think change is needed. It’s an all-encompassing term for us. Sometimes we are in sympathico, and we know what it means to both of us. At others, we often employ it to convey how one of us is feeling. However, it’s been a way to gently open up a conversation and point out that our partner needs to make a change, usually a mental-health one, that the other is obviously in need of your support and thus telling them that you are open and ready to assist in any way you can.
We often go on cruises with our car. It’s been a family staple for us. Since Anne and I met, we have done this. We got to know the city of Ottawa like the back of our hands when she was at university. I would visit on average every two weeks, and we would put in the miles, driving around and talking about our time apart, filling each other in on both good and bad, catching up on what we were feeling, dreaming, enjoying the scenery while getting into each other’s ‘snow globe”. Later, after getting married and having our children, these rides morphed yet remained a staple. They were often the only affordable trips we could take. They were to calm down, get out of the house, and soothe whatever bugaboo we may have. Many of our most important decisions have been reached doing this.
Last April, in the midst of one of these drives, I knew something was amiss. I no longer drive due to my eyesight, so I am always a ‘shotgun.’ I have been so for the last 5 years now. It had taken a bit of time to acclimate myself to this role, but I have come to accept and relish it. My perspective has changed. I no longer watch where we are going but can now more liberally observe the world around us. And on this drive, I needed to focus on Anne. I could see that in the past few months, her mental health had been taking a huge hit. She had taught high school for 28 years and, in general, for 30 or so. It was eating her up. A combination of getting older, technology and the effect it has had on her students demands upon her because wherever she taught, she was a chronic achiever, a mentor, a therapist, a second mother, and a number of other tasks and expectations teachers face today, were weighing her down and crushing her spirit. Of course, this is on top of the constant worry she had for me, my health post-cancer post-sepsis, and my body still mending. Managing our finances, ensuring our kids are safe and happy, thinking of the future and planning for all the what-ifs that creep up in the night when you can’t shut down your mind.
It was definitely time to shake the snow globe, so I said, ‘It’s time to shake that snow globe, Minoune.’ And so we did.
The ensuing cruise, which usually would have been near its conclusion, stretched out for another 2 hours. After much discussion, it became evident that Anne’s current work status would bring her down. And fast. After so many years of selfless living, of taking on far more burden than anyone should be expected to, after countless days of combating her own autism and sensory issues and those around her who did not at least try to acknowledge this nor accommodate her needs to enable her to continue operating at the standard expected of her, we needed to make a pragmatic decision that would allow us to move forward as a family and thus return to a more mindful and joyful existence.
We have always been decisive when needed. When we concluded that we were both on the same page, realistically, she could not continue for the two more years she had planned before retirement. Those two years would be blissful or hell; it’s really that simple. Those two years would push her beyond her capacity, cheat her of some of her prime years, and rob her of the life she had always hoped to attain. Two years, when you are 30, are nothing. When you are 54 and have already lived a life of serving, it is pivotal. They can make or break you. So, on the spot, retirement became necessary, not in two years, but. in two months. As momentous a decision as this was, and we had analyzed it, the logistics had just fallen into place. Could we afford to retire, as a question, changed to Could we afford NOT to retire? We figured things out. We made changes to our spending. We adjusted. We ‘crunched the numbers’. And we shook the shit out of that snow globe.
She now calls it ‘refirement’ instead of retirement. She has never been busier, which I often hear from those who have had the privilege to do so. She has demands made upon her, stress, deadlines, and all of her choosing. She still teaches, but now it’s piano and music, one-on-one, and delivers that magic she has developed and honed over the decades. She has regained and surpassed her previous vigour. She shines!
Undoubtedly, we all have shake-the-snowglobe moments. Let me know one or more of yours! Have an awesome day!
Bill's Musings 