ER Eddie
Thinks s/he gets paid by the post
- Joined
- Mar 16, 2013
- Messages
- 1,788
I retired three years ago. Here are some observations:
1. I'm lazier than I imagined. I don't mean "lazy" in a critical, judgmental way; it's just the word that seems to capture it. There are a wide range of social, cultural, educational, and touring activities I could be doing, but by and large I just don't feel like it. I'm content if I have maybe one of these "things to do" per week. That's enough. I know retirees who like to have their calendar full of things to do, every day. Not me.
I'm happy with my routine, which usually involves a mix of walking my dog, visiting parks, taking care of chores around the house, dealing with texts and emails, riding my bike, watching Youtube, eating, napping, writing, and working on a project. Or just sitting around doing nothing in particular, just resting and reflecting. In fact, recently I've discovered that what I need is not so much another activity, but more non-activity -- times when I'm just walking or sitting in nature, doing nothing.
This has taken some adjustment. I've had to overcome the guilt of not being "productive," the guilt associated with living such a lax, easy life. There is still a little voice in the back of my head telling me I "should" be doing more with my remaining years. But there's a louder voice up front saying that I've worked plenty hard in my life, and I'm retired now, with nothing left to prove.
2. I notice that my personality has changed. I'm still mostly the same person I was three years ago, but I've changed in some ways, too. One of the main ways I've changed is that I'm friendlier and more open to people than I was before. When I was working, I was forced to deal with people -- and some of them were people I did not want to deal with. When I got home, I just wanted to be left alone. So I didn't develop many friends outside of work.
Since being retired, I've changed. I'm just a nicer person. I was always pretty nice, but often it was politeness, not genuine interest in the other person. I'm not saying I've been transformed into an extroverted empath or anything. I'm still a highly introverted person who mostly enjoys time alone. But I'm much more friendly and warm with people I meet. I'm much more open to friendships. I've cultivated two of them since retiring that I wouldn't have had the time or inclination for, before.
3. I'm surprised at how easy it is to fill the time. I had some concerns about not being able to fill all the time, 24/7, 365 days a year, but that hasn't been a problem. I'm surprised at how quickly the time goes.
Days are satisfying. I do a little exercise at the end of the day, which I learned from positive psychology, in which you ask yourself, "What are three things that went well today?" I never have a problem thinking of more than 10 of them. Life is good. I kind of wonder when the other shoe is going to drop. I'm not used to things being this smooth for this long.
4. I've forgotten the little stresses of work. I've been surprised when I go back and review my journals from those years, how much time I spent stressed about one thing or another. The cumulative nights of poor sleep, which carried over to ruin the next day. As you know, it's not just the hours you spend at work, but how those hours affect -- how they bleed over into -- your "leisure" time.
It's easy to forget about those little work-related stressors. I'm glad I made a record of them, so I can remind myself of what it was like.
My friends and family -- all of whom continue to work -- are also a good reminder. They are always talking about being slammed by their workload, pressured by work, stressed by colleagues, patients, or complaints. I offer support, and inside I'm thinking, "I'm glad that's not me anymore."
5. I still go back and forth on the question of moving. I have seriously considered several different options and got close to pulling the trigger once, but I've always decided to stay put. I've given some thought to 55+ communities, although I have some reservations about that. My current situation is pretty good, so I keep deciding that the effort/stress and expense of moving isn't worth it.
Some of this is "paradox of choice" material -- i.e., having so many choices that you get paralyzed, start regretting your choice, imagine better alternatives, etc. I recognize that I am probably wasting my time, and that I'd be better off just committing to where I am and forgetting about a move, but I keep drifting back to wondering about other places. The grass is always greener...
6. The current economic situation is no fun, but I'm three years in and still under 2% withdrawal rate, without social security (I'm 60, haven't drawn it yet). I've kept careful records of spending for the past three years and think I have a pretty realistic, road-tested estimate of what my expenses are. I'm not happy about the economy, but I've got plenty of cushion, so I'm not feeling any pressure.
Otoh, I do notice a reflexive tendency to tighten my belt. I don't really "need" to, but I have spent so much of my life being frugal, it's second nature. Especially at a time like this. But I also recognize that I'm fine.
1. I'm lazier than I imagined. I don't mean "lazy" in a critical, judgmental way; it's just the word that seems to capture it. There are a wide range of social, cultural, educational, and touring activities I could be doing, but by and large I just don't feel like it. I'm content if I have maybe one of these "things to do" per week. That's enough. I know retirees who like to have their calendar full of things to do, every day. Not me.
I'm happy with my routine, which usually involves a mix of walking my dog, visiting parks, taking care of chores around the house, dealing with texts and emails, riding my bike, watching Youtube, eating, napping, writing, and working on a project. Or just sitting around doing nothing in particular, just resting and reflecting. In fact, recently I've discovered that what I need is not so much another activity, but more non-activity -- times when I'm just walking or sitting in nature, doing nothing.
This has taken some adjustment. I've had to overcome the guilt of not being "productive," the guilt associated with living such a lax, easy life. There is still a little voice in the back of my head telling me I "should" be doing more with my remaining years. But there's a louder voice up front saying that I've worked plenty hard in my life, and I'm retired now, with nothing left to prove.
2. I notice that my personality has changed. I'm still mostly the same person I was three years ago, but I've changed in some ways, too. One of the main ways I've changed is that I'm friendlier and more open to people than I was before. When I was working, I was forced to deal with people -- and some of them were people I did not want to deal with. When I got home, I just wanted to be left alone. So I didn't develop many friends outside of work.
Since being retired, I've changed. I'm just a nicer person. I was always pretty nice, but often it was politeness, not genuine interest in the other person. I'm not saying I've been transformed into an extroverted empath or anything. I'm still a highly introverted person who mostly enjoys time alone. But I'm much more friendly and warm with people I meet. I'm much more open to friendships. I've cultivated two of them since retiring that I wouldn't have had the time or inclination for, before.
3. I'm surprised at how easy it is to fill the time. I had some concerns about not being able to fill all the time, 24/7, 365 days a year, but that hasn't been a problem. I'm surprised at how quickly the time goes.
Days are satisfying. I do a little exercise at the end of the day, which I learned from positive psychology, in which you ask yourself, "What are three things that went well today?" I never have a problem thinking of more than 10 of them. Life is good. I kind of wonder when the other shoe is going to drop. I'm not used to things being this smooth for this long.
4. I've forgotten the little stresses of work. I've been surprised when I go back and review my journals from those years, how much time I spent stressed about one thing or another. The cumulative nights of poor sleep, which carried over to ruin the next day. As you know, it's not just the hours you spend at work, but how those hours affect -- how they bleed over into -- your "leisure" time.
It's easy to forget about those little work-related stressors. I'm glad I made a record of them, so I can remind myself of what it was like.
My friends and family -- all of whom continue to work -- are also a good reminder. They are always talking about being slammed by their workload, pressured by work, stressed by colleagues, patients, or complaints. I offer support, and inside I'm thinking, "I'm glad that's not me anymore."
5. I still go back and forth on the question of moving. I have seriously considered several different options and got close to pulling the trigger once, but I've always decided to stay put. I've given some thought to 55+ communities, although I have some reservations about that. My current situation is pretty good, so I keep deciding that the effort/stress and expense of moving isn't worth it.
Some of this is "paradox of choice" material -- i.e., having so many choices that you get paralyzed, start regretting your choice, imagine better alternatives, etc. I recognize that I am probably wasting my time, and that I'd be better off just committing to where I am and forgetting about a move, but I keep drifting back to wondering about other places. The grass is always greener...
6. The current economic situation is no fun, but I'm three years in and still under 2% withdrawal rate, without social security (I'm 60, haven't drawn it yet). I've kept careful records of spending for the past three years and think I have a pretty realistic, road-tested estimate of what my expenses are. I'm not happy about the economy, but I've got plenty of cushion, so I'm not feeling any pressure.
Otoh, I do notice a reflexive tendency to tighten my belt. I don't really "need" to, but I have spent so much of my life being frugal, it's second nature. Especially at a time like this. But I also recognize that I'm fine.
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