Retirement: Turns Out, I'm Bad at It

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I don’t know who started the rumor that retirement is some sort of magical finish line—probably the same people who said bangs were “easy to maintain.” All I know is, somewhere along the way, we bought into this glossy brochure version of our “golden years,” complete with sunset walks, limitless leisure, and the sudden urge to take up watercolor landscapes.

Listen, I’m all for a good sunset. But after one week of retirement, I discovered the truth: those glossy brochures left out a few things. Like how you can take only so many walks before you start naming the squirrels. Or how day-long leisure is fun until your brain taps you on the shoulder and says, “Hey… should we maybe be doing something meaningful? Or at least something that requires actual pants?”

Nobody warned me that “doing nothing” gets old fast. In fact, “doing nothing” ages quicker than I did between 48 and 49.

But the biggest lie? That retirement is a destination.

No. Retirement is more like a weird layover between who you were and who you’re becoming next. And the airline has lost your luggage.

I realized pretty quickly that the problem wasn’t retirement—it was the mythology. We’ve been told for decades that if we just grind long enough, save enough, and reduce our daily joy intake to federally approved levels, one day we’ll get there. And when we do, we’ll instantly feel fulfilled, peaceful, and spiritually aligned—like one of those people who drinks herbal tea unironically.

Spoiler: that’s not how it works.

I thought I’d ease into retirement like a graceful swan. Instead, I crash-landed like a pelican into a picnic.

There’s this moment—no one talks about it—where you wake up and think, Wait… nobody needs me to show up anywhere today? Not even UPS? And then you find yourself reorganizing the same drawer three times because you’re trying to trick your brain into feeling purposeful. I won’t lie to you: I alphabetized my spices. Twice. You don’t know rock bottom until you’re Googling whether nutmeg counts as an “N” or an “M.”

But here’s the plot twist: once I stopped trying to live the brochure version of retirement, things got interesting.

I realized I’m not done. I don’t want to be done. I don’t even like the word “done.” Ask anyone who’s been to dinner with me—I will take a conversation, a story, a plate of pasta, and sometimes the wine way past the point of done.

So why would I stop now?

Retirement isn’t the end. It’s a doorway. It’s the universe giving you a cosmic nudge and saying, “Alright, your turn. What do you want to make, start, become, or revive now?”

Maybe you want to mentor. Maybe you want to un-retire. Maybe you want to launch that dream business you kept tucked in the “someday” file. Or maybe you just want to stop pretending you enjoy pickleball. (It’s okay. Most of us walked away with minor bruises. I walked away questioning every life choice that led me to this moment.)

This season isn’t about sitting still—it’s about sitting in your strength, your story, your accumulated wisdom, and saying, “I get to choose the next adventure.”

Honestly, I think the real myth was that retirement would simplify everything.

Turns out it does the opposite.

It blows the doors wide open.

And that’s where the real fun begins.