Learning to live at the speed of my energy

2 minutes ago

6 min read

Retirement gave me control of my time. I’m gradually learning that I also need to respect how much energy I actually have.

When I retired, I imagined the biggest change would be having more time. After decades of working, I thought there would finally be time for photography, writing, the garden, the house, and all those projects that had spent years waiting for their turn.

And there is more time.

What I hadn't properly considered was that having time available and having the energy to use it are two completely different things.

Over the last few years, and particularly over recent months, I've become much more conscious of my energy levels. Physically, I tire more quickly than I did five years ago. My mental stamina has changed as well. Things that I might once have kept going with for hours can now leave me feeling drained considerably sooner.

I'm still learning what that means for the way I organise my life.

I still want to achieve things

I don't think I've lost my work ethic since retiring. If anything, one of my problems may be that I've brought quite a lot of it with me. I still like having things I want to achieve. I enjoy making plans. I like finishing something and being able to look back at the day and think, Yes, I got that done.

The big difference is that these days I'm the one setting the goals.

For most of my working life, objectives, deadlines, and responsibilities ultimately belonged to somebody else. Even when I had considerable control over how the work was done, an organisation still expected an outcome. Now the goals are mine.

That's quite liberating, but it has taken me a while to realise what that really means.

If I set a target and circumstances change, I can change the target.
If something turns out to be less important than I thought, I can move it.
If my energy disappears halfway through the week, I don't have to carry on simply because last Sunday's version of me thought it was a good idea.
Nobody is waiting for my performance review.

That sounds obvious written down, but old habits are remarkably persistent.

My ambitions haven't retired

The slightly ridiculous thing is that I have no shortage of things I want to do:

Photography projects.
Blog posts.
Work in the studio.
Things around the house.
Gardening.
Learning. Technology.
Jobs I help Adele with.
Ideas that occur to me halfway through doing something completely different.

I can very easily turn retirement into another full-time job, except this time I've appointed myself as both employee and unreasonable manager. That is something I'm trying to change.

Recently, I've been experimenting with different ways to manage my commitments. Rather than filling every available space in a calendar, I'm trying to work from a more flexible list of things I would like to achieve.

I've also started applying a simple one-in, one-out principle to the week. If something genuinely needs adding, something else has to come out of this week's plan.

Taking something out doesn't mean abandoning it. It simply goes back onto the wider list until there is a better time for it. That sounds like a small administrative change, but I think it tackles one of my bigger problems: I tend to plan my days for the energy I hope I'll have rather than the energy I'm realistically likely to have.

Some days the battery simply isn't full

I can wake up with a perfectly sensible plan and discover a few hours later that I've run out of steam.

Sometimes there is an obvious reason. A physically demanding job, household responsibilities or simply a busy couple of days beforehand. At other times there isn't. The energy just isn't there.

That's one of the harder things for me to accept because time is still available. I can look at the clock and think, It's only eleven o'clock. I've got hours left.

Technically, that's true. But hours on the clock don't necessarily translate into useful hours from me.

I'm gradually getting better at recognising the difference.

There is not much point in having another five hours available if I spend all five trying unsuccessfully to force myself through something that requires concentration I no longer have.

Sometimes the sensible decision is to stop.

Doing nothing isn't necessarily wasting the day

I can enjoy a day when I do very little: A book, a film or a bit of television can be exactly what I need, particularly if I give myself permission to enjoy it rather than sitting there thinking about all the things I'm not doing.

I wouldn't want every day to be like that. I still need some sense of direction. Too many days without any plan would probably frustrate me just as much as having too much planned.

But I've become much more comfortable with the occasional day off.

That phrase matters: day off.

Not a failed day.

Not a wasted day.

Just a day when I don't need to make progress on anything in particular.

There is a difference.

Oddly, gardening often helps

One thing I've noticed is that low energy doesn't always mean I need to sit completely still.

Gardening can be surprisingly useful. It is physical, so you might expect it to be the last thing I'd choose when I'm tired, but a bit of gentle work outside often clears my head.

There is something about doing a practical job with an obvious purpose that seems to turn down the mental noise. I'm not trying to solve anything particularly complicated. I'm moving something, pruning something, planting something or tidying an area.

My mind gets a rest while my hands are occupied.

I may come back indoors physically tired, but sometimes considerably clearer mentally.

That distinction between physical energy and mental energy is becoming increasingly important to me.

Rest isn't always sitting down.

Sometimes it's simply doing something different.

Perhaps the problem is not energy alone

It would be easy to blame everything on getting older or having less stamina, but I don't think that would tell the whole story.

I also give myself too much to think about.When you've got several projects all competing for attention, even deciding what to do can become tiring.

Photography is a good example.

It ought to be something I enjoy, yet if I've got several possible shoots, competition deadlines, studio ideas, photographs waiting to be processed and other commitments around them, the hobby itself can start generating its own workload.

The same can happen with writing, technology and jobs around the house.

Individually, none of them may be unreasonable.

Collectively, they can become overwhelming.

That means managing my energy isn't only about doing less physical work.

It's also about having fewer open loops in my head.

Doing less, but doing it properly

I'm increasingly convinced that doing fewer things well is better for me than continually trying to keep ten different things moving.

That doesn't come completely naturally.

I enjoy new ideas. One thing leads to another, and before long I've created another project. But every new project comes with a small mental cost:

It needs remembering.

It needs planning.

At some point, it starts asking when I'm going to do something about it.

So perhaps the answer isn't becoming better at squeezing everything in.

Perhaps it's becoming better at deciding what not to squeeze in.

That's quite a change of mindset for somebody who has spent much of his life trying to make things happen.

A plan, but not a contract

I don't want to stop planning. I actually think I function better when I have some idea of where I'm heading.

But I'm starting to see a plan differently:

It isn't a contract - It's closer to a menu.

These are the things I'd like to do.
These are the things that matter right now.
This is roughly how I think the week might go.

Then life gets a vote. So does my energy.

If I wake up feeling good, I can make use of it.
If I discover that something I planned no longer makes sense, I can move it.
If I need an afternoon with a book, I can have one without pretending I've somehow failed.

And if I decide to spend an hour in the garden instead of completing the job at the top of the list, perhaps that isn't procrastination. Perhaps it's simply recognising what I need at that moment.

Learning my own pace

I'm not sure I've completely worked this out yet!!

There is probably a balance somewhere between accepting my limits and using them as an excuse.

I don't want to drift through retirement waiting until I feel perfectly energetic before doing anything, because I suspect I'd miss a lot of things that matter to me.

At the same time, continually pushing against my limits doesn't make much sense either.

The challenge is learning the difference.

Maybe that is what I mean by living at the speed of my energy.

I still want goals.
I still want projects.
I still want days when I finish something and feel pleased with what I've achieved.

But I also want enough space around those things to enjoy them.

These days, if a goal needs changing, I can change it.

After all, I know the bloke who set it.

And increasingly, I think doing less, with more attention and enjoyment, might be considerably more productive than spending retirement trying to catch up with myself.