When we sold the business my husband and I had spent 25 years building, I thought I knew exactly what retirement would look like. I imagined quiet mornings, more time in the garden, swimming, writing and simply being home.
And I have all of that. My husband settled into retirement beautifully. He loves the slower pace, and honestly, I love it too.
But something inside me kept pulling at me. Not back to work or toward another business or career. It was something different. I realized what I was missing was contribution.
I couldn’t quite explain it at first. I simply knew there was still something inside me that wanted to be shared. And I found myself asking a question I hadn’t expected to be asking in retirement:
Who am I now?
When the Role Changes, Who Are You?
For 25 years, I had a business that needed me. There were people who needed me, problems to solve, decisions to make and a team to lead. And then suddenly, I didn’t have that anymore.
There’s something that happens when a role that has been such a big part of your life disappears. Even when you chose to leave it. Even when you’re happy you left it. Even when the life on the other side is exactly what you wanted.
You can still find yourself wondering who you are without that part of your life.
That’s what I’ve been discovering. I don’t think finding yourself again after retirement is necessarily about figuring out what you’re going to do next. I think it can begin by reconnecting with who you are now, rediscovering what makes you feel alive and deciding how, or even if, you want to contribute in this next chapter.
For me, that exploration has come down to three questions.
1. Who Am I Now That My Role Has Changed?
Not who was I or who do I think I should become. The question I’m asking is: Who am I today?
Who am I without the title, without the business and without anyone needing me in the way they once did?
That’s not a question you answer in five minutes. It’s one you sit with. You journal about it. Think about it while you’re walking. Let it wander through your mind on a quiet drive. Because before we can figure out what’s next, I think we have to reconnect with who we already are.
A few months ago, I had a day that really brought this home for me. It was such an ordinary day. My husband was outside working on a project. I wandered through the garden, hung laundry on the clothesline, went for a swim and spent some time writing. We had lunch together.
Somewhere in the middle of that very ordinary day, I thought:
This is retirement.
It was peaceful, creative and relaxing. It was exactly what I had imagined retirement would be.
But I also realized something. It still wasn’t enough.
Not because the day wasn’t beautiful. It was. And not because I needed to be busier. I didn’t. What I realized was something I have probably always known about myself:
I cannot not help people.
I love quiet mornings. I love gardening. I absolutely love slowing down. Those things nourish me.
But I also come alive when I’m helping someone else see herself differently. When I ask a question that helps a woman reconnect with who she is. When she remembers what matters most. When she begins to believe there is still so much more life ahead of her.
That’s what fills me up.
Retirement didn’t take that away. It made it clearer.
2. What Makes Me Feel Alive and Brings Me Joy?
Notice I’m not asking what makes me productive. I’m asking what makes me feel alive and joyful. There’s a difference.
What gives you energy? What makes you lose track of time? What feels like you?
For me, it’s writing and creating. It’s making these videos while I learn YouTube all over again. It’s reconnecting with the Women Living Fully community. It’s helping women reconnect with themselves and, for some, reconnect with their businesses too.
Some of those passions had quietly been waiting for this season of my life. Maybe you have some too.
Maybe there’s something you used to love that slowly disappeared beneath work, family, responsibility and everything else that needed your attention. Maybe there’s something you’ve always wanted to explore but never had the time. Or maybe you don’t know yet.
That’s okay too.
If you’re not quite sure what brings you joy anymore, I created a Joy Map to help you explore that. It’s a simple exercise designed to help you reconnect with the things, experiences and parts of yourself that light you up. You can create your own Joy Map here. And if you’d like me to walk you through why I created mine and how you can create your own, you can also watch my Joy Map video here.
You don’t need to immediately replace your career with a new passion or purpose. You can simply become curious about what makes you feel more like yourself.
3. How Do I Want to Contribute in This Next Chapter of My Life?
Notice I didn’t ask, What do I want to achieve?
I asked, How do I want to contribute?
Those are two very different questions.
For so much of our lives, we’re taught to think in terms of achievement. There’s always another goal, another milestone, another level to reach. But maybe this chapter gives us an opportunity to ask a different question.
What do I still have to give?
I’ve realized that all those years I was building businesses, I wasn’t simply building businesses. I was helping people. I was developing people, creating communities and helping women.
And I miss that.
I don’t necessarily miss the business itself. I miss that part of me. That’s an important distinction.
Contribution doesn’t have to mean going back to work. It might mean mentoring someone, volunteering, creating something, helping your family, sharing what you know, becoming involved in your community or supporting a cause you care about.
Or perhaps, like me, it means returning to something that has been part of you all along, but doing it differently this time.
Maybe Retirement Isn’t About Reinventing Yourself
This may be the biggest realization I’ve had so far:
Retirement didn’t change who I am. It reminded me who I’ve been all along.
I don’t think I need to reinvent myself. Maybe I simply needed to reconnect with myself, remember what makes me feel alive, rekindle some of what had been waiting quietly in the background and, from there, begin to reimagine what might be possible in this chapter of my life.
I’m still discovering it. I don’t have it all figured out, and maybe that’s part of the point.
We spend so much of our lives believing we’re supposed to know where we’re going. Maybe this chapter isn’t asking us to have all the answers. Maybe it’s asking us to become curious again about ourselves, about what brings us joy, about what still matters and about what we want to do with this life we’ve worked so hard to have the freedom to live.
Three Questions to Take With You
If you’re in retirement, approaching it or simply going through a season where a role that once defined you is changing, I want to invite you to spend some time with these three questions:
Who am I now that my role has changed?
What makes me feel alive and brings me joy?
How do I want to contribute in this next chapter of my life?
Don’t rush to answer them. Take them for a walk. Sit outside with your coffee. Write about them. Let yourself be quiet enough to hear what comes up.
And then choose one small action based on what you discover.
Maybe you call someone you’ve been thinking about. Maybe you pick something back up that you’ve missed. Maybe you explore something you’ve been curious about or sign up for something you’ve wanted to try. Or maybe your action is simply giving yourself permission to keep asking the question.
You don’t have to know exactly what your next chapter looks like.
You can begin by reconnecting with the woman who will be living it.
Watch the Conversation
I share more about my own experience with retirement and these three questions in this week’s video, 3 Questions That Helped Me Find Myself After Retirement.
I’d also love to hear from you. Which of these three questions do you need most right now? And once you’ve sat with it, what is one thing you’re going to do with what you discovered?
At the heart of it all, you matter. And you deserve to have joy in your life.
