This is how I found purpose after retirement
When I retired and left the classroom for the last time after thirty-five years, I thought I had it all figured out. Bill and I would relax, maybe tend to the garden, visit the kids more often, and finally have time to read all those books I’d been meaning to get to. Simple, right? Well, let me tell you, finding purpose after retirement turned out to be a lot more complicated than I expected.
For decades, my purpose was clear: shape young minds, grade papers, and somehow find creative ways to make Shakespeare relevant to teenagers.
My days had structure, meaning, and, yes, indeed, plenty of stress. But when that final bell rang on my last day, I felt… empty. It was like someone had erased my entire identity. Such a strange feeling.
The truth is that the first few months were wonderful. Sleeping in felt like pure luxury after decades of 6 a.m. alarms. I had time to also take care of a lot of stuff, such as organizing closets that hadn’t seen attention in years and cooking proper meals instead of grabbing whatever was quickest. But by month three, I was wandering around the house wondering, “Now what?”
The lost months
Bill noticed it before I did. “You seem restless,” he said one morning while we were drinking our coffee. What baffled me was that He was right. I felt like I was waiting for something, but I had no idea what. That restlessness truly affected me and made me try everything, and I mean everything, that retirement magazines suggested. I know, I know, who trusts retirement magazines? But I was desperate; I needed purpose after retirement, and I had no idea how to start.
I first joined a book club. Here, I was surprised to notice that we spent more time discussing our medical appointments than the actual books. Later on, I told myself that it’s time for something outside of my comfort zone, and I signed up for a pottery class. I had fun, but my bowls looked more like a mess than any abstract art. After a while, I even volunteered at the local library, but organizing books felt too much like the classroom management I’d just escaped.
Nothing felt right. I was going through life, but my heart wasn’t in it. That’s when I realized that retirement isn’t just about stopping work, it’s about starting something new. The question was: What would bring me genuine joy?
Learning to listen to myself
The breakthrough came when I stopped trying to fit into other people’s imaginary boxes and started paying attention to what actually made me feel alive. Not what I thought I should enjoy, not what other retirees were doing, but what genuinely lit me up inside.
I started noticing the moments when I lost track of time. It was when I was writing long emails to my daughter Emma about my daily observations. When I was helping my neighbor sort through her late mother’s belongings, and listening to the stories behind each item.
The common thread? I was connecting with people through stories, through shared experiences, and through the messy beauty of real life.
This realization hit me hardest during a health scare I had about a year into retirement. A mild heart episode landed me in the hospital overnight, and lying there in that sterile room, I had plenty of time to think. What would I regret if this had been more serious? The answer was clear: I’d regret not sharing the stories and wisdom I’d gathered over six decades of living.
Finding joy in unexpected places
My purpose after retirement didn’t show up in one dramatic moment. It unfolded slowly, like a flower opening its petals. Each small discovery led to the next.
Take my relationship with my grandkid, for example. When Greg first asked me to babysit regularly, I said yes out of duty. But watching the little ones see the world with fresh eyes reminded me of something I’d forgotten: the joy of curiosity. His endless questions about why grass is green and where clouds come from sparked something in me that had been dormant since my teaching days.
I started writing down their funny observations and the stories I’d tell him. Before I knew it, I had notebooks full of family tales, reflections on aging, and insights about this strange new phase of life. My daughter Emma read some of these and said, “Mom, you should share these. Other people going through the same thing would love to read them.”
That’s when writing became more than just a hobby; it became my new calling. This is why we are here today.
The wisdom of downsizing
Our move to Asheville also taught me unexpected lessons about finding purpose after retirement. When we decided to downsize from our family home in Beaufort, I thought the hardest part would be deciding what furniture to keep. I was wrong.
The real challenge was looking through forty years of memories. Every box in the attic told a story. Every saved school project from my kids made me cry. I found myself sitting on the floor, surrounded by photo albums, remembering birthday parties I’d forgotten and family vacations that happened a long, long time ago.
But in that process of letting go, I discovered something beautiful. The memories weren’t in the stuff; they were in me and the people I love. I started writing about that realization, about how liberation can come disguised as loss. That experience taught me that finding purpose after retirement often means releasing who you used to be to make room for who you’re becoming.
Rediscovering my marriage
Speaking of Bill, retirement gave us something we hadn’t had in decades: time to remember why we fell in love. When you’re raising kids, marriage can become a series of formal meetings. Who’s picking up groceries? When is the parent-teacher conference? Did you pay the electric bill? Logistic stuff like this.
But in retirement, we rediscovered each other. We took that RV trip that opened my eyes to new adventures. We started cooking together, something we hadn’t done since our newlywed days. We began having those long, rambling conversations that used to happen naturally before our lives became busier.
This renewed connection became part of my purpose, too. I started writing about marriage after kids, about rediscovering intimacy in your sixties, and about how to navigate the adjustment to retirement.
A few practical steps
If you’re struggling to find your own purpose after retirement, here’s what helped me: Start small. You don’t need to revolutionize your entire life overnight. Try one new thing each week, whether it’s a different walking route, a new recipe, or calling an old friend.
Keep a simple journal. Just for awareness. Notice what made you smile each day, what frustrated you, and what made you feel most like yourself.
Don’t be afraid to grieve what you’ve lost. Whether it’s your career identity, your role as a parent, or simply the energy you had in your thirties, it’s normal to mourn these changes even as you embrace new possibilities.
Travelling is probably my favorite thing to do. If you’re like me, then this might interest you: Home is Where We Park It: Our First RV Summer