Josey became eligible for retirement after serving many years with a prominent law enforcement agency. At that time, the thought of leaving was far from his mind. Yet the path he felt called to follow, serving the hurting and lost, was becoming hindered. After searching his heart and discussions with his family, together they pressed the SUBMIT button on his retirement papers.
The path to his new career was to be The Roadmap Company. Retirement and the income he earned would allow Josey to focus on helping other agencies build programs to support their own. When the department charged with handling his final determination of retirement income dropped the ball, all plans were left in limbo. Without complaint he changed careers again and worked long difficult hours to make the loose ends meet. Not only does today’s story share Josey’s thoughts over the final outcome of his retirement, his training that was left behind to provide for his family offers understanding of how all of us are wired to process events. -HLA-
“As I walked past the picked cotton field I stopped in my tracks when I noticed a section of the cotton was not picked. I wondered if the rain caused the farmer to not have finished picking his cotton. Did his combine break down, or was it because he had the virus? I know the farmer well. You can tell back in his prime days his shoulders were broad. His hands speak of many years in the fields. Though his size and callused hands could intimidate some, his voice is gentle. He is the kind of man that never sat hours in classroom, but to me he is a professor of life.
A farmer lives in a constant state that I see as a critical incident or a difficult moment in life. Our brain encounters conflict and reacts by wanting to complete, simplify, and categorize the event. A farmer plants a crop and puts that crop in the hands of mother nature. He relies on mother nature, which is an unpredictable force, to make his crop a success or a complete failure. This process lasts all year until the crop is harvested. If his crop is a success, then the conflict is over. He has completed the event and there is no need to simply the event. The category, which is nothing more than a mental file folder, is a simple one to file. The crop was a success.
If the crop was a failure, as it was this year in the south due to too much rain, the farmer feels the need to simplify the event. Simplifying the event is where the farmer takes personal responsibility where it does not rationally exist. We often call this the should of, would of, and could of. The farmer may say, “I should have waited those two weeks to plant. I could have harvested sooner.” The category of a failed crop also has a file folder with a seasoned farmer. My broad-shouldered farmer has told me of all the hurricanes that have filled up his failed crop folder. In his gentle knowledgeable voice, he says with a weathered smile, “Been through it before and I will get through it again.” Once the soil is prepared for the next crop and the old one disappears, then the farmer completes the event. The cycle starts over, and the farmer lives all year praying mother nature will provide him with a crop that will fill up the successful file folder.
A farmer, by his choice, puts himself into a situation that most of us try to avoid. I honestly believe that our brain goes into this state of processing (complete, simplify, and categorize) for most events, even when they are not traumatic. If the event is catastrophic to our mind, then it’s filed as a dissociative memory. If the event is not catastrophic to our mind, then it’s filed as an associative memory. I dedicated book three* to Hurricane Michael. I saw him as he passed over our home. I climbed to the top of a tree as his eye passed over us in an attempt to stop another tree from falling on our home. Most of my memory of hurricane Michael is filed as dissociative. The brain files things so it knows how to react when it encounters a similar event. When our weather radio alerts, my heart increases and I recall that eye looking down on us. Understanding why the brain does what it does, helps us understand why we react the way we do.
I stand there looking at that section of unpicked cotton and my phone vibrates in my pocket. It is a text message from my bride. The text says, “money deposited in our account, they finally paid us.” I drop to my knees and feel the wet soil soak into my pants and cry. I retired over a year ago. Due to a paperwork issue, they could not figure out my exact retirement compensation. The last year I received half of my predicted retirement pay as they attempted to calculate it. Once I retired from my agency, my file went to another agency that processes retirements and it seemed to fall into a hole. We never complained about the delay, but after 11 months we started to ask questions. I did what I had to do to fill in the half retirement gap. I cannot say the last year was enjoyable, but we made it. I was never mad, sad, or depressed. To me I was in survival mode, but I guess after 11 months I knew I was running out of steam. My bride knew I was breaking internally. In 30 years, I never really had a clue how much money I made. It was never about the money. It was about doing my part, helping others, and leaving this world better than the way I found it. As I knelt there in front of that incomplete failed cotton crop with the wet ground soaking my skin, it sure felt like this moment was about the money. We knew we could survive on a lesser salary but not a half salary.
I wiped the tears from my eyes and texted my bride back, “I guess I’m officially retired now.” I had spent the last year in the simplify phase questioning whether maybe I should have not retired. I questioned many things in the last year. Without a doubt that text message completed the event. I’m retired from that path. The new path started off a little rough, but as with most things, if you dust off the path you can find your way. The aftermath of hurricane Michael is without a doubt an associative memory for me. I relive those weeks of watching our boys work like men without modern comforts to restore order to our world. This last year while I was in survival mode has both its dissociative and associative memories. My early retirement allowed me to be here while our boys school went online. Together we filled in that gap of the half retirement pay. The moments while filling that gap may not have been as glamourous as my old job, but the memories are glamorous to me.
I walk back to my truck and pass a pecan orchard. The pecan crop was very good this year. Funny how the extra rain blessed the pecan tree and drowned the cotton plant. We all live in the cycle of life and events will occur that are out of our control. These events form into memories that we want to hold on to and some we want to bury deep in the earth. If we understand how the brain takes in these events, we can grow in a positive direction versus a negative direction. In many ways we are just like cotton plants: hoping and praying for the right balance from mother nature so we can grow. Somewhere in the back of my simple mind is new file folder marked retirement. I’m pretty sure the folder might have a few bent edges, but deep inside it is a place that is full of memories that money did not buy.” -WLV-
- To read more about the “Complete, Simplify, Categorize” process, an explanation by Dr. Jeffrey Mitchell can be found in their book Sister Mary, The Baker The Barber, and The Bricklayer, page 73, Comments on Chapter 5. The books can be found at https://crucialmoments.org or on Amazon.
