The New Yorker:

Banish the emptiness of not feeling useful, productive, directed.

By Liana Finck

I’ve just retired from a job that kept me very busy but was also fulfilling.

I am sixty-seven. My husband, who is sixty-nine, is also retired but freelances as a pianist and organist five or six days a week.

I have two children and three grandkids, with a fourth grandchild due soon.

I also have friends and interests, but I miss the challenges of work. I was a psychologist and mental-health chaplain full time. I thought I could continue to do a bit of that, on a small scale, but it’s proved difficult. I used to be very satisfied with my life (other than with politics, climate change, and so on).

But now I find myself jealous of my husband! I know I am privileged in some ways. But I suddenly feel like an old-fashioned housewife.

I get advice (without asking) from friends: Get your poems published! Start a business!

They don’t know that it is difficult to just start publishing poetry!

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