Changing Your Identity

Thirty-five years of adrenaline rushed, over capacity, high-stakes productive work as a litigator and key advisor to a top-tier university has come to a rolling end. The choice was mine; the timing was mine, and the reason for the change was the opportunity to go out at the top of my game and the desire to have more time to do other things. More time to care for my family, care for myself, and to do “fun things” that I was sure I had been missing out on.

My colleagues have expressed authentic sadness at my departure, but also envy that I am able to stop the madness that comes with high-intensity, high-stakes work. I too experience sadness at the end to a life-long commitment to a successful career, to my role as advisor to the top leadership, and the feeling of importance and satisfaction that my contribution makes a difference. That feeling is shared with a sense of relief at no longer having life and death decisions – real or perceived – carried on my shoulders every day. Retirement is a time of joy and discovery, right? But how does one change how they define themselves literally overnight?

For my entire adult life, I have been driven to achieve the highest levels of success, whether as a leader in my law firm, or advisor to the leaders at my university employer. Although the work was thrillingly complex and often cutting-edge -- determining whether controversial speakers must be allowed access to a college campus or whether the campus must accommodate employees who oppose receiving a COVID vaccine – it was also a never-ending grind that horded my time and sapped my energy.

As a mom with such a grueling career, I often imagined that I was missing out on captivating sojourns on school field trips, in-classroom volunteer opportunities, and social engagements with other Moms. I rationalized that I was setting an important example for my children and their friends, that a women can have a successful career and still be a loving mother and wife. I still truly believe that to be true, but I also have feelings that my kids and I both missed out on something.

Retirement brings opportunity to rededicate myself to these other aspects of life. I still have a grown child living at home due to various disabilities that prevent him from living independently. I now have time to help teach him to become independent. I can teach him how to plan for healthy meal preparation and to learn how to cook simple meals for himself. I can try to teach him how to value money -- can he prepare a budget based on his income from parttime work and SSI balanced against the cost of rent, food, transportation, and entertainment? This focus helps to fulfill my desire to give fully to my continued role as mother, perhaps even more now than I was able to while working.

I have joined a women’s golf group that meets on Tuesday and Thursday. I am meeting new people who share a passion for the game, but also seek companionship beyond the competition. We play a round of golf and then have lunch. This is starting to provide a sense of belonging and helps to fulfill my past longing for social engagements and development of lasting relationships outside of work. Relationships do not, however, start overnight and require commitment and nurturing. I am still an outsider and often feel like an interloper. I am trying to commit the same kind of energy I previously exerted for work to developing these relationships and I remain hopeful that overtime this will continue to blossom.

At age 61, I now am experiencing many “firsts” that were unexpected but provide many new growth opportunities. I went on my first solo vacation over the summer. My husband and son both had commitments, so could not join me. My sister and her family were going to Mammoth Lakes and encouraged me to join them. I thought, “I am retired, I am free to decide how to spend my time, so why not?” I had to rent a cabin for one person, something I had never tried to do before. I had to drive alone, plotting a course for my all-electric vehicle to recharge along the way, also something I had never done before. I had to grocery shop for one person – leaving the store with only one grocery bag, unheard of! I felt a great sense or accomplishment to venture out on my own and to be responsible for nothing except my own needs.

Now comes the real challenge, the reality of having nothing I need to do Monday through Friday.Will I take on new solo challenges? Find joy in my hobbies of golf, cross-stitchery, guitar, and organic gardening? Take on new commitments by volunteering to support a worthy cause?The future is unknown, the text is unwritten, and I am unsure how best to write my next chapter.