Preface: There’s a lot to unpack about “retirement,” and I know you’ve got important experiences and insights to share. This is the first piece in a series on this topic. Consider this post an introduction to the psychological groundwork—we’ll dig deeper into the practical and tactical over the coming months.
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Consider this:
10,000 people will retire today and every day for the next 10 years.
Many of us will live one-third of our lives in retirement.
Let that sink in…
Redefining Retirement: A New Perspective
Here’s a strong opinion for you (shocking, right?): I can’t stand the word “retirement.” As a serial entrepreneur and restless project junkie, the idea of referring to my identity as “retired” feels stale, like a trophy or a gold watch gifted at a corporate dinner. Retirement implies winding down, checking out, and, for women, becoming invisible and irrelevant. That construct terrifies me. I see this phase as less an ending and more a transformation—a time to reset, explore, and engage with life in ways I’ve never had the freedom or time to do before.
There’s a world of difference between the act of retiring and the journey that opens after you hand in your badge. And it’s an important distinction, one that doesn’t get enough attention. Retirement is an event—a milestone—not an identity, a personality trait, or a process. It implies only one thing: you clocked in, contributed your time and talent to a role that you were paid to perform, and now that specific role has ended. You signed the paperwork, emptied a few drawers, and stepped away—whether from a literal office or just an inbox. Some of us, myself included, even do it more than once.
But ladies!! Here’s the thing: you’re still you. Every ounce of purpose, every skill, and all the experiences that made you excel in your job don’t just disappear. What gets left behind? The structure, the work friends, the dependable pay check, the authority—and yes, the sense of belonging that comes with being part of a team. And then there’s the “gotta-get-up-and-go” purpose: the drive to show up every morning because it is required of you.
I know plenty of you treasure the idea of retirement—as you should! You’ve worked damn hard to get here, and I’m right here with you, cheering. But let’s take a moment to question the weight this word puts on us, especially on women. Retirement suggests a finish line. I challenge that assumption; retirement is a starting line. And for crazy reinvention types like me, it is, yet again, another start, to be repeated more than once. Is it a deep, sometimes messy, scary transition into uncharted territory? Yes, but it’s about shaping this phase exactly how you want it to be and at what pace.
So, What Does Success Look Like Now?
This is where things get fuzzy. A few months after my latest retirement, I found myself waking up each morning with a pit in my stomach, asking, “What the hell am I doing?” Without the usual success metrics, what does “making it” even look like now? One thing I’ve learned is that finding the answer takes time. Most experts say there are four psychological stages of retirement—and they go by different names depending on who you ask. But the core of each stage is universal. And the objective? To reach the reinvention stage as fast as possible, with every ounce of agency you can muster.
Navigating the Ecstasy and Angst of Retirement
Stepping away from a career isn’t just a change of pace; it’s like stepping off the edge of a cliff. The longer we’ve stayed in one role, the steeper that cliff feels. When I turned 60, in the haze of post-COVID life, I sold my consulting business of 15 years. After building it from scratch, I thought closing the deal would bring relief. Instead, I felt…empty, with a creeping sense of angst. My inbox went silent, my phone stopped dinging, and the colleagues I’d once called friends…faded away. Suddenly, I was “retired,” with no real idea of what that meant for me. I found myself careening between ecstasy and angst. Navigating this transition requires you to balance both emotional extremes, allowing each feeling to ground or push you forward.
The ecstasy came with the sudden realization that the emptiness I felt was space. Space to hit refresh, to reinvent if I chose, and to shift gears toward what matters to me, on my own terms. And the angst? That was real, too: fear, loneliness, too much time, a loss of financial independence, and a life with no guardrails.
That’s when I discovered what a team from Harvard Business Review coined: Alignment, Awareness, Agency, and Adaptability. Here’s my own spin on their model:
1. Alignment: The Ecstasy of Freedom
Alignment is that first taste of liberation, where every day feels like a vacation. You’re free to sleep, travel, read, indulge in passions, or try pursuits that once felt out of reach. I learned to fall into alignment with this new reality—where every day was a Saturday. Whether you explore creative projects, travel, or deepen family connections, alignment lets you celebrate this chapter.
“Every Day is a Vacation”
2. Awareness: The Angst of Facing Reality
Awareness brings you face-to-face with the hard truths of this transition. You confront limitations—whether physical, emotional, or situational. You become acutely aware of shifts: aging, health changes, energy levels, or financial constraints. The loss of a built-in social network or daily purpose can add another layer of angst, making the adjustment daunting. Ask yourself: What’s possible? And what do I need to rethink my goals?
“Facing Loss and Finding Yourself”
3. Agency: The Angst of Uncertainty
Agency here can feel like stepping into the unknown. Every choice is on you, and the enormity of this freedom can be overwhelming. Without the structure of a job to define your days, you’re left to carve out a new path. Agency brings angst, challenging you to navigate reinvention without a roadmap. It’s exhilarating but also unnerving. The fear of failure is real, ask me about it…
“Trial and Error on Repeat”
4. Adaptability: The Ecstasy of Embracing Change
Adaptability is where it all comes together. This is the phase you want to reach, where reinvention feels most rewarding. It’s the thrill of realizing that you can evolve, no matter your age or stage. Adaptability isn’t just about flexibility; it’s the exhilaration of knowing you’re not done. Not even close.
“Reinvention, Rewiring, and Repurposing”
What Does Success Look Like Post-Retirement: My Personal Journey
Running my consulting business was meaningful and fulfilling, even if the schedule was grueling. After selling it, I felt freedom I hadn’t known in years—savoring a Thanksgiving Holiday without client “emergencies,” catching up on my reading, and spending more time with family. I moved through the Awareness phase in about a year.
The Awareness and Agency phases blurred together as I tried to find my footing. I explored a new venture with my daughter—a side gig that didn’t last but brought invaluable lessons. I also realized I no longer had the stamina I’d once had, a humbling moment that allowed me to recalibrate and redefine what I truly wanted and was able to do at this stage of life.
So, Why the Uneasiness?
Because reinvention isn’t easy—and neither is breaking free from outdated expectations. Ecstasy and angst are partners in this journey, each phase shifting the balance of these emotions. With the 4 A’s guiding you—from the first thrill of Alignment to the satisfaction of Adaptability—you learn that reinvention isn’t about reaching a fixed destination. It’s about embracing the tension, growing through it, and rewriting the rules along your way.
Uneasingess doesn’t come from the changes themselves; it’s rooted in society’s stale narratives around retirement and aging. We are all living longer and have varying levels of financial security. Reinvention, not retirement, is the way forward. It’s time to toss out the outdated script and create a life that’s vibrant, curious, and unapologetic.
So here I am at 64, with a third of my life left to live, in the Adaptability phase, with my new endeavor, Provoked. Right now, I’m feeling energized with you to thank. With every new comment and reader, I’m more “let’s do this” than “what the hell am I doing”—and I’ll take that as a win. The road ahead? Not entirely clear. But I’m ready to celebrate every day and see where it takes us.
What does “retirement” mean to you? Is it an end, a new beginning, or something else entirely?
Have you felt the push and pull between freedom and uncertainty in retirement?
How do you handle the angst that comes with change?
How do you redefine “success” in this stage of life?
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