I don’t blog much about my pessimistic parts; they don’t make for cheerful reading, and I am embarrassed by them. Nevertheless I thought I would write out one of them, mostly to get it out of my mind. By putting it on paper perhaps it won’t bother me as much.

I don’t think much about retirement as I am rather gloomy it will happen.  The chance of retirement seems slim ; there are too many factors that discourage the hope retirement is achievable.

Not that I don’t have retirement plans or hopes. I’ve been slowly collecting recipes, torn out of decades of Gourmet and Bon Appetit food magazines. In my retirement I envision making new dishes every night; I would never a repeat. I would have a closet full of Spo-shirts, so I could hardly ever wear the same one. I would spend my sunset years bouncing between around my favorite spots. I would visit friends and family. A book or a puzzle would never be out of arm’s reach.

But I doubt any of this will happen.

First, there are the health impediments. I have high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and a family history for heart attacks, Alzheimer’s, and prostate cancer.  Even if I should dodge a stroke or a heart attack, dementia and cancer are likely to make my retirement either short or decribed.

Second, there are the economics worries. We are a one income family, and the house is greatly less worth than it is worth. This is the main reason why Someone and I don’t discuss retirement. We can’t move and I can’t stop working. The money I used to squirrel away every month is going towards bills. We are fortunate we are doing OK, but there is no longer money being put away.

Third, I worry about the world. The USA will go bankrupt; I have no expectations Social Security will be there for me. Global war will destroy the stock market (or the planet), along with my life savings.
Some of my doubt is coloured by the work I do. All day long I see people whose long term plans were thwarted by illness, economic loss, or fateful events that tear their dreams apart.  I don’t know anybody who lived to see their retirement years happy, healthy, or well enough to enjoy it.  (The noteworthy exception are my parents – how they did this I don’t have a clue as father will no sooner talk about finances than discuss his sex life).

My religion and my psychology forbid despair; both advocate not to worry about the future. Don’t put your faith in money or other people,  or the government etc.   I will make it through somehow.

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