Eliza Hartley
I always thought retirement would be my time to finally relax. No deadlines, no stress—just peace and freedom to enjoy life on my own terms.
But when the routine of work disappeared, so did a part of my identity. Instead of feeling free, I felt lost. I had spent so many years looking forward to this chapter, yet when it arrived, I found myself questioning everything—who I was, what truly mattered, and what to do with the rest of my life.
It turns out, finding peace isn’t as simple as stepping away from work. It takes something deeper. And the lessons I’ve learned in this uncertain phase have changed the way I see both retirement and life itself.
1) Losing structure felt like losing purpose
For years, my days had a clear rhythm—wake up, get ready, go to work, tackle the day’s challenges, come home, and repeat. It gave me a sense of purpose, a reason to get up in the morning.
Then retirement came, and suddenly, that structure was gone. No meetings to attend, no deadlines to meet, no clear direction for how to spend my time. At first, it felt like freedom. But soon, it started to feel like drifting.
I realized how much of my identity had been tied to my work. Without it, I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. Was I still valuable? Was I still needed? The lack of structure forced me to confront questions I had never really thought about before.
And the answers weren’t always easy to find.
2) The hobbies I thought would fulfill me didn’t
Before I retired, I had a list of things I couldn’t wait to do—reading more books, learning to paint, maybe even picking up golf. I imagined my days being filled with activities that would bring me joy and fulfillment.
But when I finally had all the time in the world, those hobbies didn’t feel as satisfying as I expected. I’d start a book but lose interest halfway through. Painting was fun for a while, but it didn’t give me the sense of purpose I was looking for. And golf? Let’s just say I quickly realized it wasn’t for me.
I thought these things would replace the fulfillment I got from work, but they didn’t. Instead, they made me question what truly brought meaning to my life. Was it really about staying busy? Or was there something deeper I needed to find?
3) Living in the moment was harder than I thought
I always believed that once I retired, I’d finally be able to slow down and enjoy life. No more rushing from one task to the next—just peaceful, present moments.
But when I actually had the time, I struggled to be in the moment. My mind kept drifting to the past, replaying old memories, or jumping ahead, wondering what I should be doing next.
It was as if my brain had been wired for constant movement, and now that things were still, I didn’t know how to just be.
That’s when I realized mindfulness wasn’t something that just happened—it was something I had to practice. In my book, The Art of Mindfulness: A Practical Guide to Living in the Moment, I explore how mindfulness can help us find clarity and peace, even in uncertain times.
Learning to be present isn’t always easy, but it’s one of the most valuable skills we can develop—especially in retirement.
Once I started making mindfulness a daily habit, I began to appreciate the small moments more—morning coffee, a walk outside, even just sitting quietly without feeling the need to do something. It wasn’t about filling my days with activity; it was about fully experiencing them.
4) Friendships changed in ways I didn’t expect
Work had always been a natural way to stay connected with people. There were daily interactions, casual conversations, and shared experiences that kept friendships alive. Without that structure, some of those relationships quietly faded away.
At first, it was easy to assume everyone was just busy. But over time, the invitations became less frequent, and the check-ins grew further apart.
It wasn’t that anyone meant to drift away—it just happened. And it made me wonder how much of those friendships were built on convenience rather than true connection.
At the same time, new relationships didn’t form as easily as they once did. Without a workplace bringing people together, making meaningful connections required more effort.
It forced a deeper reflection on what friendship really meant—and who was truly meant to be part of this next chapter of life.
5) Having more free time didn’t make me happier
For years, I believed that if only I had more free time, I’d be happier. No alarms, no packed schedules—just endless open days to do whatever I wanted. But when I finally got that freedom, something unexpected happened. Instead of feeling happier, I felt restless.
Without a clear sense of direction, the extra time started to feel overwhelming. Days blurred together, and without something meaningful to focus on, I found myself stuck in my own thoughts more than ever.
It turns out, structure and purpose weren’t just things I needed for productivity—they played a huge role in my overall happiness.
True contentment didn’t come from having unlimited free time. It came from knowing how to use that time in a way that actually felt fulfilling. And figuring out what that looked like wasn’t as simple as I once thought.
6) Slowing down didn’t mean feeling at peace
I always thought that once I slowed down, peace would naturally follow. No more rushing, no more stress—just calm, quiet days. But what I didn’t expect was that slowing down gave my mind more space to wander, and not always in a good way.
Without the constant distractions of work and routine, old regrets resurfaced. Unfinished dreams, past mistakes, and choices I never questioned before suddenly felt louder. It was as if the stillness brought everything I had pushed aside to the surface.
I realized that peace wasn’t about doing less—it was about making peace with myself. And that required more than just slowing down. It meant facing the thoughts I had been too busy to acknowledge and learning how to let them go.
7) Purpose isn’t something you retire from
For so long, I thought of purpose as something tied to my career—something I would naturally leave behind when I retired. But without it, I felt unanchored, like a part of me had disappeared.
What I’ve come to understand is that purpose isn’t just about work. It’s about growth, connection, and contributing in ways that matter. It’s about finding new ways to be useful, not for the sake of being busy, but because having a reason to get up in the morning still matters.
Retirement isn’t the end of purpose—it’s an opportunity to redefine it. And the most important work isn’t figuring out how to fill the time; it’s figuring out what truly makes life meaningful.
Bottom line: peace isn’t something you find, it’s something you create
I used to believe that peace would arrive the moment life slowed down. That once the obligations and responsibilities faded, a deep sense of calm would naturally take their place. But what I’ve learned is that peace isn’t something that simply appears—it’s something you have to cultivate.
At first, the stillness felt unsettling. It forced me to confront questions I had long avoided, to rethink what truly gives life meaning. But as I leaned into the uncertainty, I realized that peace isn’t about the absence of struggle—it’s about how we navigate it.
One of the biggest shifts came when I started practicing mindfulness. In my book, The Art of Mindfulness: A Practical Guide to Living in the Moment, I explore how being present can transform the way we experience life, especially in times of transition.
Learning to embrace each moment—without clinging to the past or anxiously searching for what’s next—became one of the most valuable lessons of this chapter.
Retirement didn’t automatically bring me peace. But it gave me the space to realize that peace was never about circumstances—it was about perspective. And that’s something we can shape, no matter where we are in life.
