My first Social Security deposit felt strange — until it didn’t.

A new electronic deposit appeared in my bank account last week. I knew exactly what it was.

I had waited until the last possible moment, until I crossed the threshold of 70 years of age, before I began collecting Social Security.

When I first saw the payment, I felt an unexpected twinge of guilt, as if I were accepting compensation for work I had not done, for a biopsy I had not read, for a lab test I had not performed.

That feeling quickly gave way to a simpler truth: I had, in fact, earned this money.

I have been paying into the Social Security system since I was 15 years old. I paid in while bagging groceries at the Jewel, while stuffing envelopes at a printing and letter service, while performing autopsies as a pathology resident, and while practicing my profession for more than four decades. With every paycheck, a small portion of my income quietly disappeared into the program.

I am neither an accountant nor an actuary. I have no idea whether I will ultimately come out ahead or behind compared with a world in which those contributions had been invested elsewhere.

Fortunately, Barb’s and my careers have been successful enough that we do not depend on the payments we now receive. They are simply additional resources to spend or save as we choose. Still, I find myself appreciating the shift in perspective. What once felt vaguely uncomfortable now feels entirely appropriate.

I can accept it, finally, with no guilt at all.