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I LOVE TO PLAN. My wife, Sharon, often catches me nestled in my chair, gazing out a window at a distant object as my mind wanders even farther afield. My musings become scribbles on a scrap of paper, destined for discussion with Sharon at length over coffee and long walks. Eventually, we hammer out the settled strategies we think will best bring us happiness in adventures ranging from our next hike to the next few decades of life.
Of course, I know our intended track, or even the final destination, may change over time. I’m just a little boat on a big sea, blown about by winds and carried along by deep currents that may push me far off my charted course. Still, though it may be somewhat of an illusion, I cling to the comfort of control.
Smooth sailing. And for most of 2025, life was comfortable. In April, I shifted to part-time work as a physical therapist. I termed my new lifestyle “semi-retirement”. My reduced salary, added to Sharon’s contribution from a few hours’ work each month, still gave us enough income from our jobs to cover expenses, with leftovers for a little investing and so forth. Along with that, we gained enough new-found, free time to pursue a bit more fun while catching up on projects around the house.
As an added bonus, I expected delaying full retirement a couple of years might lead to more happiness in the decades ahead. How so? Because my post-retirement plan was still a work-in-progress.
“I studied and planned for two years before I retired,” Mike told me at a large family gathering. In his mid-70s, his excitement was evident as he recounted his active lifestyle. At home, his schedule includes participation in our state’s Master Gardener program and regular trips to the gym. Abroad, he organizes groups to walk the Camino de Santiago in Spain.
I had a yen for a fulfilling retirement like Mike’s. My roster of reasons to jump out of bed each morning might have a different twist or two, but I wanted the same zest for living. My unique recipe for retirement happiness still needed time to cook, however.
Oh, I knew I had plenty to keep my hands active. Even so, I wasn’t yet convinced I could substitute the mental stimulation provided by my patients and colleagues. According to a decades-long study from Harvard University, some folks discover that work supplies satisfaction not found elsewhere. I have a nagging suspicion I’m one of those restless souls, and I dreaded the thought of finding myself adrift, with little sense of purpose beyond indulging my own selfish needs.
And let’s face it: I still get a thrill from watching my money grow. Earning an income delays the need to plunge my fingers into my pile of savings to pay the grocery bill. All told, I figured my best move was to stay put until a clear exit appeared.
Unexpected storm. Meanwhile, my employer was moving in its own interest. In December, I learned that with the new year came new management for our outpatient physical therapy clinics. Our hospital system opted to outsource operations with the hope of securing guaranteed revenue. After the revamping, my boss would keep some new iteration of her job, but the outpatient clinics would report to the new administration, rather than her.
The news was a blow to my ordered life. No longer was I sailing through calm waters toward the sunset of my choosing. Instead, I faced the probability of turbulence as our clinic transitioned to the new system. And we were already struggling to implement a comprehensive computer software replacement that would take many more months to fashion into a serviceable tool.
I sensed danger ahead. Or, at the very least, a year or two of starts, sputters and stops before the clinic machine was humming again. I decided to bail, and on February 18th clocked my last day with my former employer, four days after Sharon. It turns out my radar was right. The details are dirty, but the gist is the transition is stalled and leadership of the affected clinics in limbo.
New direction. On the face of the situation, it seems my “clear exit” did indeed appear, and that I acted with autonomy to choose the course of my life. After all, I had exercised the option of jumping out of a job headed south and into the retirement I had dreamed of for decades. On top of that, I landed in a new, part-time job with Miranda, an old friend.
Back in December, Miranda called to ask if I could help cover patients in her clinic while she was out on extended leave. I wasn’t seeking more work, but she needed help. I couldn’t refuse. So, starting with one half-day per week in January, I’m now up to two or three half-days. Miranda’s made it clear I’m welcome to work more, but I’m satisfied for now. And the atmosphere in the clinic is great. It’s staffed by easy-going folks who are serious about patient care.
Still, it’s hard to shake the sense I’ve been scrambling to right myself after getting shoved off balance. During the last few weeks with my former employer, I had the feeling I was getting pushed out of a satisfying job before I was ready to leave. My usual optimism suffered, as did my sleep habits and typical interests, like gardening and writing. Why?
Perhaps the answer is the sudden, unplanned departure from my job. Research indicates forced retirement can lead to negative feelings about health and to depression. I have to admit I found my new temperament described in the pages of a research paper.
Other studies on job loss, found here, here and here, examine and compare the emotions experienced by losing a job to that of other types of loss, such as grief after the death of a loved one. Considered in this light, the Kubler-Ross model of the five stages of grief might help someone–like me–understand and deal with the psychological aftermath of job loss.
Peering ahead. Back to my reality, I know I’m painting a grim picture of a life that’s actually very blessed. Others have experienced far worse with fewer complaints. My perceived suffering pales beside that of a person who’s lost a loved one, or an income needed for survival. Also, as I get used to the shift in my lifestyle, I’m beginning to find my groove again.
Last spring, I started the season thinking I was at life’s helm, confident I could steer in any direction and choose my pace. I was thankful, but a little smug as I laid plans for my vision of retirement. One year later, I’m still planning and still thankful–but a bit more humble.
Ed is a semi-retired physical therapist who lives and works in a small community near Atlanta. When he’s not spending time with his church, family or friends, you may find him tending his garden and wondering if he will ever fully retire. Check out Ed’s earlier articles.
Edmond, really enjoyed the article. I was very much the opposite — I couldn’t wait to escape the pressures of business ownership and dive headfirst into retirement. That said, your point about losing a sense of purpose genuinely resonates with me.
Over the past year, almost entirely by accident, I’ve found myself helping run one pickleball club, creating and running a second, and helping manage a tennis club — none of it planned, none of it intentional. Looking back, I think having this “work” alongside my more personal pursuits has actually made my retirement richer for it.