It’s 12 weeks and counting…

Well, it’s official. On 27 January, I will be ending my employment with the same employer after 22 years. Twenty two years! That’s longer than some marriages, most fashion trends and my enthusiasm for sitting in Teams meetings that could have been an email.

And the best bit? I CHOSE THIS.

I opted for voluntary redundancy, and I honestly cannot remember the last time I felt this excited about a decision. There’s something rather liberating about deciding that, actually, life is too short to spend it counting down the minutes until the end of the working day.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had good times, learned a lot and met some lovely people along the way. But after 22 years, I think I’ve earned the right to close this particular chapter, put the work laptop down and see what the rest of the world has to offer.

Preferably somewhere without a meeting invite.

So, what happens next?

Excellent question. If you’re expecting a beautifully organised five year plan, a colour coded spreadsheet and a carefully calculated schedule of productive activities, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong blog.

I have absolutely no idea.

And for once, I’m perfectly happy with that.

Of course, I’ll work again. I’m not planning to spend the rest of my days draped over a chaise longue, eating grapes and waiting for someone to fan me. Although, if anyone would like to volunteer for that position, applications are open.

I just don’t know what work will look like, when it will happen or what direction I’ll take. Maybe something completely different. Maybe something creative. Maybe I’ll stumble across an opportunity I haven’t even considered yet. Tescos checkout chick?

For the first time in a very long time, I can actually ask myself, What do I WANT to do? rather than What am I supposed to do?

And fuck me, what a lovely feeling that is.

My hobbies are about to get suspiciously nervous.

Those of you who know me will understand that I’m hardly short of things to keep me occupied.

There’s blogging, creating content, dabbling in TikTok, playing with AI, making music, dreaming up song lyrics and generally experimenting with anything that catches my attention.

One minute I’m reviewing Korean skincare and attempting to look ten years younger. The next, I’m creating a song about my padded balconette bra keeping the girls under control.

Then there’s Second Life, where I can furnish a virtual home, create a whole imaginary world and dress an avatar in outfits that probably cost less than my real life energy bills.

Perhaps I’ll finally have time to rediscover the creative side of myself without squeezing it into the evenings, weekends and whatever energy remains after a working week.

Or perhaps I’ll discover an entirely new hobby.

Pottery? Gardening? Travelling? Learning to speak another language?

Knowing me, I’ll start all four, buy enough equipment to open a small shop and abandon two of them by February. Just kidding.

It’s called having a curious mind. Other people call it being easily distracted.

But first, I need a BREAK.

And I mean a proper one.

Not a week off where I spend the first two days recovering, the next two worrying about what I haven’t done, and the last three mentally preparing to return to work.

I mean a chance to breathe.

To wake up without immediately thinking about emails, workloads and what fresh shit might be waiting for me.

To have a coffee because I fancy one, not because I’m so stressed I need it.

To go for a walk, take photographs, write something ridiculous, make music, spend time doing things I love and perhaps sit staring out of the window contemplating absolutely nothing.

Imagine that. A woman of 60 with no immediate obligation to be productive every waking moment.

Fucking scandalous behaviour!

I’ve spent decades working, meeting responsibilities and getting on with things. And while I know I’ll always need something to keep my mind occupied, I also know that I don’t want to rush straight into the next thing simply because that’s what we’re conditioned to do.

Sometimes the next step is to stop walking for a moment.

Sometimes you need to get off the treadmill before you can work out where you actually want to go. By the way TikTok sent me a treadmill, so I’ll have to use it.

And sometimes the most sensible thing a woman can do is absolutely nothing at all.

Apart from perhaps moisturising. We must maintain standards.

Is it reckless to start again at 60?

Possibly.

But I’m beginning to think that what we call reckless is sometimes just doing something different from what everyone expects.

We reach a certain age and apparently we’re supposed to settle down, keep our heads down, stick to what we know and be grateful for a predictable routine. Safety.

Well, I’m grateful for plenty of things. But I refuse to believe that turning 60 means my life should now be all slippers, sensible decisions and watching the same television programmes every evening. Eat, work, sleep and repeat.

I still have ideas. I still have things I want to try. I still get excited about new possibilities.

And I still have absolutely no idea what I want to be when I grow up.

Perhaps that’s the secret.

Maybe we don’t need to have everything figured out. Maybe we’re allowed to change direction, start again, take a chance and see what happens.

I’ve spent 22 years working for the same employer. That’s a significant chunk of my life, and I’m proud of the commitment I’ve given.

But my working life is not my entire life. Also despite me being a really good employee and committed I frankly got nothing back.

There’s a whole world beyond the familiar routine, and I want to give myself the chance to explore it.

January, I’m coming for you!

So, 27 January is marked in the diary.

The countdown is on, and I’m not counting down with dread. I’m counting down with excitement, curiosity and the occasional dance.

There will probably be nerves along the way. I’m realistic enough to know that stepping away from the familiar can feel daunting, even when it’s exactly what you want.

But right now, the overwhelming feeling is happiness.

I chose voluntary redundancy. I chose to take this leap. And I’m choosing to give myself a little breathing space before deciding what comes next.

No grand declarations. No unrealistic promises. No pretending I have life all neatly organised.

Just a woman approaching a new chapter, with a head full of ideas, a camera roll full of content, far too many skincare products and an enthusiasm for life that refuses to behave itself.

I’m not retiring from life. I’m making room for it.

And if that means taking a break, getting creative, exploring new opportunities and occasionally spending an entire afternoon in my pyjamas because I bloody well can, then so be it.

After 22 years, I think I’ve earned that privilege.

So here’s to fresh beginnings, unexpected adventures, a little bit of recklessness and finding out what happens when I finally give myself permission to just BE.

Watch this space.

I have a feeling this next chapter could be rather interesting.

And if all else fails, I can always become a full-time TikTok influencer reviewing wrinkle creams and singing about my underwear.

Honestly, stranger career choices have been made.

Bring on 27 January. The next chapter is mine.