The Beginning of My Retirement Story, part of the Retirement Series

I retired.

That sentence sounds rather simple, doesn't it? But getting to the point where I could actually say those words—and mean them—was anything but simple.

For years, I had been someone who worked hard, figured things out, and did whatever needed to be done. That was simply who I was.

My last position began as one thing and gradually became something much bigger. Over time, my responsibilities expanded into many different areas, and I found myself wearing more hats than I could count.

I was doing a lot.

And for a long time, I simply kept going.

Eventually, being "the person who could handle it" became exhausting.

One of the hardest things for me to acknowledge was that I no longer felt valued in the way I needed to feel valued.

As my responsibilities grew, so did the stress. Communication became increasingly challenging, and I often found myself carrying responsibilities and pressures that had accumulated over time.

There always seemed to be another task, another meeting, another problem to solve, or another thing that needed my attention.

I sometimes felt as though I had to remain available far more than was healthy for me.

And yet, I kept going.

That's what people who work hard often do. We adapt. We take on another responsibility. We tell ourselves things will eventually settle down. We convince ourselves that if we just work a little harder, communicate a little better, or hang in there a little longer, things will improve.

But eventually, there comes a point when you have to stop asking,

"How much more can I handle?"

and start asking,

"How much longer do I want to live this way?"

That was the question that changed everything for me.

There wasn't necessarily one dramatic moment when I slammed my laptop shut and declared, "That's it!"

It was more like a light slowly coming on.

I had reached my limit.

I realized that being capable of carrying something didn't mean I was obligated to keep carrying it.

I realized that staying simply because something was familiar wasn't necessarily a good enough reason to stay.

And perhaps most importantly, I realized that I didn't want the next chapter of my life to look like the chapter I was trying so hard to leave behind.

I prayed about it.

I brought my fears, my exhaustion, and my uncertainty before God and waited for Him to gently nudge me when it was time for things to come to an end.

I was tired—physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Even my hubby could see it and worried about me.

This wasn't simply the tiredness that comes from working hard. It was the deeper kind of exhaustion that comes from constantly feeling responsible for things that seem to have no end.

We needed the money, I'd tell myself.

Just hang in there a little longer.

But each day, I could feel a little more of myself being stretched too thin.

Something had to change.

Here's the part you don't hear a lot about making a drastic change:

Even when you know something isn't working anymore, leaving can still be frightening.

I didn't have every answer.

I didn't have a perfectly mapped-out five-year plan.

I didn't know exactly what retirement was going to look like or what I would do with all those hours that had previously belonged to someone else.

I simply knew that I couldn't continue living the way I was living.

So I took a chance.

I walked away.

And let me tell you something...

My first day of retirement was terrifying. 😂

After decades of working, suddenly having control over my own time sounded wonderful in theory. In reality, I woke up and realized there was no one waiting for me to answer an email, reply to a message, attend a meeting, complete an assignment, or solve an emergency.

What was I supposed to do with myself?

That, as it turns out, became the beginning of an entirely different journey.

Now I'm looking back at that decision from a completely different place.

A little more than a year has passed, and I can finally see that leaving wasn't simply the end of my long 40+years of working.

It was the beginning of discovering who I am when my value isn't measured by how much I can accomplish for someone else.

I'm learning to slow down.

I'm rediscovering things I enjoy.

I'm cooking more. I'm crafting. I'm crocheting. I'm sewing. I'm making things with my hands. I'm discovering that an ordinary day doesn't have to be packed from morning until night to be a good day.

And I'm learning something else:

Rest is not laziness.

Having time to think isn't wasted time.

Doing something simply because I enjoy it doesn't require a measurable outcome.

There is a whole world of life beyond productivity.

Taking walks is exercise for my body, mind, and soul.

Spending quality time with Jesus keeps me grounded.

And perhaps one of the greatest gifts of retirement has been realizing that I don't have to constantly prove that I'm useful.

I can simply be.

I want to be careful about something as I begin sharing this Retirement Series.

I'm not telling anyone to quit their job.

Everyone's circumstances are different. Some people can't leave. Some need the income. We did. And some people have responsibilities that make a drastic change impossible. And some may simply need to find a different solution.

This isn't advice about what you should do.

This is simply my story.

But if you're reading this because you recognize something of yourself in it—if you're working and constantly exhausted, if your responsibilities have grown beyond what you ever expected, or if you've begun wondering whether the way you're living is sustainable—I want you to know something.

You're not alone.

Sometimes we need to keep running the race for a while longer before we reach our own finish line.

Sometimes we need to make a plan.

Sometimes we need to make a change.

And sometimes, after years of giving everything we have to our work, we finally have to give ourselves permission to say,

"This chapter is finished."

For me, that chapter ended a little over a year ago.

I didn't know exactly what was waiting on the other side.

I only knew it was time to find out.

And that decision became the first page of my retirement story. And, I'm writing that story as I go. 

This is part of my Retirement Series. If you'd like to follow the entire journey, click here!