Retirement before its time

I started thinking about retirement at the age of eighteen. I know that at the time I was too young to even say the word retirement, but my health took a 180-degree turn a year before I turned eighteen. My dreams of becoming a neurosurgeon and later a human resources manager both looked very unattainable.

I decided to step aside from BBA (Bachelor of Business Administration) at the age of seventeen to pursue a BSc. Nursing was a choice made out of curiosity—to learn how to take care of myself.

This was triggered by the first doctor I met after my diagnosis, who prescribed me the wrong medication, and I did not know any better. Four tablets, three times a day. Without getting into any more details, as it has passed the statute of limitations in my personal book of law.

Once I met the doctor who saved my life, he told me I would need to reduce the medication slowly, as there was no way I could just stop the wrong medication I had been prescribed out of nowhere.

I decided to change my whole lifestyle and pursue nursing at the same time just to reach a 360-degree shift in my career aspirations.

Today, I am 27, healthy, off the wrong medication, and all the tests that led to the first diagnosis have been normal for the last five years.

The main reason I am writing this article is that someday, you and I both would want fulfilment after leaving a 9–5 job—whether in business or healthcare—and be okay with walking away.

My perspective on retirement as a seventeen-year-old was quite depressing. That was ten years ago. After speaking to older people about retirement and how they handled it, I feel more at ease and am now looking forward to it. I also got to hear some regrets about their early life from them.

While writing this article, I also had a chance to speak to a thirty-year-old, where I gained insight into how to avoid those regrets. My own view on retirement has now reshaped, because when I was seventeen, it felt like I was going to lose everything. Today, I am hopeful to have the opportunity to pursue dreams that once felt unattainable.

So, my thoughts about retirement at a young age came purely from this: I was preparing for an early acceptance of what felt like a most likely result of how the sickness made me feel.

Today, I write about retirement from a fresh perspective—as an active working member in the EU, a healthcare assistant, and someone who has spoken to elderly retired members of the Irish community.

Why retirement feels more like a loss than freedom

“Retirement is, in one way, a loss. You are not just losing the job; you are losing the sense of having people you meet on a daily basis. You plan and you plan—I’ll travel when I retire, and I’ll draw and learn new languages. I’ll do this, I’ll do that,” said a seventy-five-year-old, with hand gestures and a smile that turned into contagious laughter.

We love structure. We might have despised timetables in school, but as humans, we need and love structure.

A few months into retirement feels good—why does that change?

From the many older people I had the privilege of speaking with about life, most of them are retired from work and are now in their seventies, eighties, and nineties. They all shared one similar comment: they enjoyed the early days of retirement. It was later, when they began to question decisions made at a young age, that they fell prey to regret and guilt.

“A few months into my retirement felt good. I did everything—worked on the garden and took care of everything in the home. I can’t do what I used to do,” said an eighty-six-year-old with a smile.

I responded with a smile, “The beauty of ageing is that at every age, we get to do different things.” I was lying when I said that. If we fall sick, we do not necessarily get to live the way many do. Some of us had to become adults as children. So, when all is said and done, retirement hits everyone differently—mainly because we question our past, and each of our pasts is so different from one another.

Their conclusion, however, was the same. They all felt depressed and sad, and they knew exactly why. “I sometimes refuse to live in the present,” one said.

Living in the present and the level of consciousness it requires is immense. Our brain hates the present; it is either trying to solve a problem that may happen in the future or attempting to fix mistakes from the past. No amount of present stress over the past or future is going to make us happier, and it is not just them who live like that; it is most of us.

If happiness is what we are looking for, stop chasing and just stand still. We as humans often tend to forget to do that.

Stepping outside my own head was a huge task for me. I loved being in my own head—it was a safe space. No one could hurt me, except I began to see how I was hurting myself. I was not living; I was escaping, or trying to escape.

When this question was asked of a thirty-year-old, they said they had never thought about retirement even once before I asked it.

“There are many people who do not live while they are in their twenties or thirties. They work and work, and they say they’ll live or travel after retirement—which I do not want. I want to be able to work and do other things that interest me before I retire.” This answer made me see how Millennials and Gen Z are cautious about not creating avoidable regrets.

When I asked the same question to a ninety-one-year-old, I framed it a bit differently: Are you enjoying your retirement? The answer was all over the place, but I learnt a lot.

With a sigh, he said, “I always loved bikes. I wish I hadn’t worked so much.” He had his own business.

“I felt the pressure of waking up on time to be there before all my employees and staying after all my employees left.” His answer was filled with regret about not being able to pursue his passion.

“My wife would take our kids to the beach during summer, and I would have to go to work. I went after closing up on a Friday and stayed in the RV we owned, coming back early in the morning on Monday.” I asked if he wanted to go with his kids and wife during the summer. He immediately said, “I did not mind going by myself.”

He also said that he regrets getting married early in his life—owning his own business at a young age, having responsibilities, and the pressure of handling finances and working overtime. I said something that broke the ice: “Well, I guess you did sign up for it,” referring to his marriage. Older people have a very broad sense of humour. He started laughing, one that lasted for three business days. His wife acknowledged it and said, “Well, yes, he did.”

The loneliness that comes with retirement

Social situations just happen in most workplaces, whether you are taking public transport or not. One does not really have to try to meet people—you just meet them. But once you retire, you have to plan on meeting people. It is similar to after school or college days, when the work is new and your colleagues are strictly your colleagues, or when you are working from home and are new to everything at your workplace. The feeling of loneliness is the same when you retire.

That is how they explained it to me—the ones I had the privilege to have a chat with. The hips, the muscles, the blood pressure, the sugar levels—everything about the body changes; in other words, everything goes out of whack. One person said, “Some people think retirement means smooth sailing. It is anything but.”

Speaking with older people has been more than eye-opening. They showed me how to take life as it comes—life is not a race. I hope my advice, that there is no point in regretting and there are no take-backs, helped them. What changed for them after retirement may be the way they look at life; most of them were optimistic and easy to talk to. They were not scared to be authentic and real when talking about life.