Daylight Saving Time: Follow the Sun
Sunday, March 9, 2025
Today my Psychology license of 32 years expires. It’s a planned ending of my career to fully embrace the next phase of my life: retirement. Psychology was my second career, similar to the first, ordination and pastor in the Presbyterian Church (USA). I have spent 41 years being present to people’s emotional and spiritual pain, supporting and loving them through the changes thrust upon them and the transformations they sought. I am humbled by the openness, trust and vulnerability so many people shared with me as we walked some dark paths together in their healing journey. We shared joyous moments together as well. These individual journeys also molded my life.
I have been planning retirement for the last 2 years and am grateful for the opportunity to rearrange my priorities and focus on my physical, mental and spiritual health. Given the length of time I’ve put into this transition, I am caught off guard by today’s grief. Stunned by tears flowing down my cheeks, I wandered around my sun-drenched gardens in search of spring buds on this first day of Daylight Saving Time.
My neighbor is a Psychologist at a cancer hospital. I saw her outside and called to her “I need a hug.” She immediately opened her arms. I explained my license expires today. “Why?!” She asked concerned. “I’m retired by choice and I haven’t seen clients for a couple of months. But it’s hard to just let it go! It’s 35 years; it’s my career!” She got it and we chatted briefly about burnout in clinical work. I thanked her and turned to leave. I just needed an colleague’s understanding.
I returned to my front yard, facing the sun in the western sky. I spent the morning in the back yard, facing the rising sun. I told myself, “I just need to be in the sun as long as it is up today.” My Inner Jukebox responded with the Beatles song “I’ll Follow the Sun” and as soon as I heard it in my head, I laughed. Archangel Gabriella is my DJ and found the perfect song to express my grief of leaving and the new path ahead.
“And now the time has come
And so my love I must go
And though I lose a friend
In the end you’ll know
One day you’ll find that I have gone
But tomorrow may rain, so
I’ll follow the sun.” By Paul McCartney / John Lennon
Of course there’s grief and tears! My Psychology license supported my dreams, home, independence and professional identity. With each client, I formed a unique relationship. We affected each other deeply and the memories will always be in my heart. It’s a huge transition of goodbyes. I release my professional identity, a predictably unpredictable schedule and a sometimes steady income. I release being needed by others.
Retiring is a letting go. As long as I’m still chasing billing, scheduling clients and meeting continuing education requirements for licensure, my hands are full. Letting my license expire ends those tasks. Retirement means it is time to wrap up and let them go.
The future holds a level of unknown I haven’t faced in more than four decades. I have ideas but the future is opaque. Who am I now? What will I do? I can’t answer that right now.
I embrace living in the questions, opening my empty hands to receive whatever comes my way. Tonight, I open my hands, my heart and my life to a new, unknown future.
Christine C. Cantrell, Ph.D.