A Couple Of Things They Didn’t Tell You About Retirement

You can find retirement advice in lots of places. Federal employees — at least when federal employment was normal, which it is not at the moment — can avail themselves of detailed planning programs sanctioned by the Office of Personnel Management. Just look at the list of topics! Click on any of them and see the depth of subtopics. So if you’ve heard that retirement takes real work and planning, believe it.

Everything takes longer than you expect. For example, in my own recent step away from full-time work, I’m trying to apply for the defined benefit pension offered by the union I’ve been in for nearly 18 years. It’s no fortune but it will cover the mortgage payments we still have on the suburban colonial. Talk about bureaucracy. I’ve been waiting more than a week to simply get the statement needed of how much I’ll get precisely. Forget about doing anything online.

Social Security? Apply early. It takes at least two months now. There’s TT (Trump Turmoil) there even as the agency deals with the seemingly endless river of baby boomers like me applying. For Social Security, every day must feel like the day before Thanksgiving feels to an airline. Your payments will be paid as of the date you designated, but they could start a month or two late. Luckily we’ve got the resources such that a delay in Social Security doesn’t present a hardship. But I wonder about those for whom it does. You can get through on the phone to someone at SSA, and the person you talk to will be polite and caring. But it takes as long as it takes.

Annuities, pension, health care plans, taxes — take it all seriously and do the homework required for your unique situation.

There’s another domain of retirement you can’t quantify that’s just as real. I’m talking about the domain of the psyche. Like the finance piece, the psychic part encompasses several subcomponents.

First, there’s the immediate aftermath. The first morning of retirement will feel like the day after a funeral. Well maybe not that bad. I say this as someone who reveled in my work and who had a terrific departure experience. Yes, I could sleep later and do the crossword puzzle first. It didn’t feel real, and I hadn’t anticipated or prepared for the sense of loss. Three weeks in, I miss the work and the people. For the first time, I don’t have a newsroom to walk into, a login to bring on the day’s tasks, a coffee machine near which to joke and chit-chat with people I like.

That’s not to say I regret retiring, not for a second. But I can’t, and neither should you, deny the bit of grief that goes with it.

Second is the high level of detail in getting your new life squared away. Maybe, like me, you brought home boxes of knick-knacks from your office — books, things off the wall, mugs, gimme pens and journal books. My own haul included a couple of dozen Washington Nationals and Capitals bobbleheads and a slew of challenge coins. It can be enough to disrupt the house a bit until you cull and organize. You’ve also got social media profiles to update, people to inform. The house itself seems to vie for attention, thinking — if houses can think — “you’ve finally got the time to paint the front door, put new bumpers on the kitchen drawers and declutter the bedrooms of children who are themselves married with homes of their own.” Getting used to a new routine takes effort. You’re not lazy if you spend a few days or even a few weeks at a slower pace, lingering over breakfast or staying up late watching ballgames. Resist the urge to beat up on yourself for taking time to regroup.

I did something ridiculous but that felt good. Years ago I found a Ronson lighter engraved with my mother’s maiden name initials. It dates to the 1940s. It was missing the spring-doodad that holds the flint in place. I found a guy on the internet in Minnesota who fixes classic Ronson lighter, shipped to him, and got it back a week later. Now, for $50 plus shipping, I have a working vintage lighter. I don’t smoke, but I got something completed.

Aligning yourself with your hoped-for post-retirement pursuits outweighs all of the other details.

Which leads to the third psychic element. Retirement from a full-time occupation doesn’t mean you have nothing left to contribute. Yes, some people want to spend the rest of their waking hours on earth playing golf or pickelball. By all means, we should do more of those recreational things we love. But those who had an active and visible career will likely have several things cooking. I know I do. A wise consultant once told me, you can do anything you want, but not everything you want. Your impulse will tell you to go after everything at once before the world forgets who you are. Don’t pursue everything at once. Pick and choose. Prioritize. Take a little time. Is it that non-profit board work you want to volunteer for? Or is it that professionally related side gig?

It’s okay to sleep later and do the crossword puzzle first. What is meant to happen will happen, but probably not two days after you retire.

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