7 Mar 2021
This session I was supposed to write about my retirement to-do list, how I wanted to approach it. Makes me want to poke myself in the eye because it would suck less. Just, blech. I think my reaction is partly because I'm slightly overwhelmed by all of everything I need and want to do. Like right now, I really want to post to Facebook a "Save the Date" notice for my Change of Command because that's a small concrete task that I could knock out pretty easily, but first I really should wait for confirmation of the date/time from Area, and then figure out if I want to have my party/celebration the same day as the COC and retirement ceremonies, but first I really should talk to my sister, who is likely traveling the furthest to hopefully attend...and each little task hydras into about four other things I should do first, and my heart starts to pound a little harder and my head hurts. And with that particular task (posting a Save the Date to FB) will likely spawn into lots and lots of comments from friends and family that I will really want to savor and respond to with thoughtfulness...and I'm not sure I'm ready to make that time commitment yet either. I'm punting a lot of this stuff to our ROM that starts in a week.
My other quandary is a little embarrassingly pedantic. I've already admitted my penchant for writing Important Things in rando places I can't find them later. I also have about five different journals going simultaneously -- even one dedicated specifically to retirement planning. So yes -- I've just decided that notebook is where I will write down my to-do/action item lists for each of my goals. Maybe this way I'll even finish up using the whole journal specifically on retirement. Wouldn't that be a personal gold star for me! :)
And with that subject addressed, I'll go on with other fun (to me) things.
This past week was the Area Major Cutter Commanding Officers Conference (COCON). It was virtual, which in some ways was great (I participated from an "offsite work location," i.e., down in Wilmington, NC so I could close on my new property, and we got some guests in that likely wouldn't have been able to participate if they had to travel to New London) and in some ways was just not very satisfying (six hours a day in front of the screen, frequent mic checks by new speakers, all the lost sidebar conversations and camaraderie that were the best part of the previous COCONs I went to).
One point finally did sink in for me at some point during the week...this past year in command during COVID was...something. I don't know if it was all the three- and four-star (well, except VCG) Admirals and lots of other members in senior leadership acknowledging the sacrifices being make by major cutter crews, or if it was the sense of awe and tangible respect I saw in the eyes of a couple of Prospective Commanding Officers (PCOs) when they heard us talking about how sitting COs made it through the year. I mean, I've read the thanks in every message and email senior leadership has sent out, and it's been said at each of the couple of engagements they've had, but somehow those all just felt like platitudes -- something they had to say at the beginning and end of each communique -- the gratitude sandwich that contains the actual message they wanted to get across, whether it was a policy change or update on something. Maybe it was the consistent reinforcement throughout the week, and the genuineness with which many of them spoke that caused me to finally believe it was heart-felt.
Maybe it's the realization that other people saw how much this year has sucked on a major cutter that made me sit up a little straighter and be a little more proud that I've seen it through so far...maybe not with all the grace and brilliance I would have wanted being the perfectionist that I am, but I did get us through some pretty shitty times. It'll take me a while to unpack all my experiences from this year, and more broadly this tour, but I'm grateful for the opportunity COCON gave me to see it from another perspective.
And for some reason this past week, I started thinking about a risk engagement spectrum. People engage with risk along this spectrum -- from risk seeking at one end to risk rejection at the other end. The named levels I identified are:
-- risk accepting
The whole thought experience started when I was thinking about my real estate purchasing adventures, from the very first house I bought (putting an offer in on a house in Waialua, HI without having seen the inside of it because if I waited to see it, someone else would have it under contract because that's how hot the market was then -- sound familiar, anyone?) to the property I just closed on (again, putting an offer in before having seen it because I knew it was great deal, and someone else would have snapped it up if I didn't). I was trying to label that, thinking at first I was demonstrating risk tolerance. But that didn't seem quite right -- tolerance implies a resistance to something...I tolerate cleaning the cats' litter box because it's a requisite part of owning indoor cats, but I'd sure rather someone else did it for me.
So I went through my mental thesaurus to see if there was a better word for recognizing the risk of making a major purchase without all the desired information and moving ahead regardless, and came up with risk acceptance. I accept that there is risk to how I approach my real estate purchases, and move ahead anyway with out all the resistance implied by risk "tolerance."
I like where I am on the risk spectrum, tending towards less resistant end. I acknowledge that some of what I do is even risk seeking -- motorcycle riding and this crazy idea for a standup paddle board trip down the Intercoastal Waterway I'm planning for July to September are two examples that come readily to mind in my personal life. For me I've found that my life is sweeter and more fulfilling on this end. And I respect other people's right to live where they want on the risk spectrum, as long as their risk aversions don't impede my choices.
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