Retirement wasn’t the end, it was the start of something new!

I used to publish a blog every week when newly retired. It was my way of making sure that I had a goal and a purpose. I had worked for most of my adult life, the thought of waking up every morning with an empty day ahead of me, filled me with dread. As I’ve moved fully into the next stage of my life, my time and energy has shifted. While I may not post as often as I’d once planned, I’ll still share honest and meaningful reflections when they matter most.

This blog has never been about quantity – but about connection, authenticity and the journey we’re all on, one way or another. Although the posts will come less frequently, they’ll continue to come from the heart. I have been so grateful to you, my wonderful readers, who have come on this often daunting retirement journey with me! it was a journey I dreaded and one I didn’t want to make alone.

This is where I was seven years ago.

I had always been afraid of boredom. I hated not having a routine or a purpose. I suppose it’s a control ‘thing’ but, whatever the reason, it didn’t fit comfortably with me. What would be the point of just drifting through the rest of my life, achieving nothing? I dared not have too much time on my hands either, to internalise over things I could do nothing about. A routine felt like a comfort blanket. It had a two fold benefit. It would fill my days and bring structure to my life.

For years I was Head of International Treasury. I could no longer introduce myself with a job. My work had become my life, not just something I did five days a week. Being stripped of my job title I felt exposed. How could I describe myself? What did I enjoy? What were my hobbies? What kind of life did I want? Who was I?

No one prepares you for the silence of retirement. I felt lost, unwanted, invisible. I wasn’t just retired. I felt irrelevant. Would my contribution to society still matter? Was I needed at all? I had served my purpose and now was cast aside. That stung – deeply.

I gave in to this intense feeling of painful irrelevance and wallowed in self pity. I revelled in that sadness, that loss. How could life be so cruel? I stared out of the window on that first morning at home and it felt as if the world was moving on without me. No more phone calls, no emails, no one asking for my opinion or needing my expertise. I felt like a ghost in my own life, useless, discarded, invisible. I mourned the loss of structure, responsibility, the sense of importance. This depression was a hard place to be in but I didn’t rush to climb out of it!

But, eventually, as those quiet days passed by, somewhere in the stillness a quiet truth began to surface. There is only so much time I could spend feeling sorry for myself. The time had come for me to reflect on who I wanted to be without a job. I also began to feel guilty about doing ‘not a lot’ and needed to remind myself of what was still good. I had my health, that definitely was a bonus! I had the freedom to choose how I wanted to spend my time and shape my days without constraints or pressure. Surely that shouldn’t be anything to feel guilty about?

For too long I had measured my worth by how busy I was, the problems I had solved and what I had produced. To move forward I had to change my mindset. I had to stop seeing retirement as a negative but as a transition. Easier said than done and certainly wouldn’t change overnight! It would require just as much courage and intention as any career move and I would have to do this on my own. I had to learn to value myself, not for what I had done, but for who I am!

It hasn’t been easy. To this day guilt still creeps in whenever I allow myself a slow morning or say no to something out of obligation. No one really talks about the emotional side of retirement. For me, retirement wasn’t a clean break. It felt like a slow unravelling of the identity I had crafted over years of hard work and sacrifice. It was my anchor, my introduction to the person at the other end of the handshake.

Slowly, gently, in that stillness of spending more time on my own, something did change. Perhaps I wasn’t being erased? Perhaps I was being offered space? The space to rediscover who I really was? I finally began to realise that there are other ways I could feel needed and valued. I now take every day as it comes. I don’t make long term plans. I’ve had to retire to learn to find myself and realise my true worth.

I’ve also had to find meaning in presence rather than performance and be at peace with slower days, a slower way of life in general. None of this has been easy! When dark moments return, as they still do, I’ve learnt to count my blessings. To remind myself that retirement is not a consolation prize but a reward for all the years of hard work! I have earned ‘my’ time. I must give myself permission to accept all the blessings without guilt or apology!

Age has many debilitating side effects but life experiences have given me a better judgement. I am calmer, less reactive. I find that I appreciate small joys. Life has slowed down but I’m still active, just not frenetic. My sense of purpose seems to have grown, not diminished.

It’s easy getting caught up in the cultural obsession about staying young. Getting older isn’t about decline but about evolution. With every passing year I have gained experience, wisdom and have redefined my priorities. I’m going to celebrate this, not in spite of the passing years but because of them! 👠