The shelf above my entertainment center could barely contain all the thoughtful retirement cards given to me by co-workers, family, and friends. Each one celebrated my achievement of 41 years of full-time work and painted the next chapter of my life to be nothing but positive. One card’s cover said, “Happy Retirement!” The inside asked, “Is there any other kind?” After my first month and a half of retirement, I can say, YES, there is.
No one tells you in the period leading up to retirement that there can be difficult and dark moments after leaving a career, especially if you loved your job and workplace, like I did. My coworkers only lauded the perceived advantages of retirement, some expressing wistful envy that they couldn’t join me. Even the retirees I spoke to prior to ending employment painted a rosy picture of a “liberated” phase of life, telling me that I was going to love it.
And they weren’t completely wrong. My body and mind are grateful to approach my days with a relaxed pace, rather than pushing myself to the brink physically and mentally to meet the stressful demands of work. I have been exercising regularly, something I never found time to do while employed. I’ve had more time to connect with my church community, spend time with old friends, and explore new friendships. I’ve started reading for pleasure again, something I never wanted to do after staring at a work computer all day. And this blog post is the first time I’ve been inspired to write non-work content in many years, perhaps an indication that the writer in me is reawakening. All great things!
BUT.
The major life transition of going from sixteen years of meaningful work with my final employer to staring at a still mostly empty calendar also brings struggles that are anything but happy.
My retirement ushered in a season of deep grief and isolation, compounded by living alone. I am grieving the loss of purpose and belonging that my job provided. Most of all, I miss the daily connections with cherished coworkers with whom I shared both work and life. I have cried as heavily as I did after other major life losses, including the death of loved ones. Even though I still feel welcomed and appreciated when I enter my former workspace, I am acutely aware that I am no longer an insider and they have moved on without me.
I’ve been quite transparent with friends, family, and co-workers about my struggles during this transition. Many people have been kind and supportive, but I’ve also sensed an awkward discomfort from those who simply can’t fathom that retirement could be anything but happy. When they check in a few weeks later and I’m still struggling, they seem even more uncomfortable, giving the subtle impression that I should be “over it” by now. The high achiever part of me is tempted to agree with them and put pressure on myself to figure it out, which only makes things worse.
The one group of people who seems to “get it,” however, are retirees. While I was still working, all they talked about was how great retirement would be. But when I pull them aside now and tell them how I’m struggling, a veil comes down and many quietly reveal they went through similarly painful transitions. For some, it took many months—even years, to find a new rhythm, purpose, and joy in their retired season. But most have gotten there—and that gives me hope.
The grief and loneliness I feel as a new retiree are real – and it is an uncomfortable space to live in. However, I have faith that my sadness will eventually be replaced with fresh purpose and belonging. I’m learning that the more I let go of past life patterns, the more capacity I have to receive new things. One of my prayers has been, “Help my heart to be open to all You have for me.”
In this time of waiting, healing, and discovery, the most important thing I can do is to keep trusting God, each step of the way. As one of my favorite scripture verses says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not unto your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.”
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