Transition to retirement can leave people feeling unmoored
"When you go into retirement, you expect it to feel like a
vacation. Then you are going through the honeymoon phase, which feels like a
vacation and might be one month or six months. But once reality hits you that
you're not going back, then you have to restructure your identity: What am I
supposed to do for the next 20 years?
"Now it hits you. You feel empty. You don't feel
like you have a purpose. You feel kind of aimless," Wilburn says. "And people
are not expecting that. There's no retirement counseling, that, 'OK, you're
ready to retire. We're going to send you to a counselor so you can understand
the process.' "
Blankinship felt more than ready to begin this new phase in his
life, joking that he even had studied geriatric issues as part of his counseling
training. He felt fortunate that he was retiring on his own
schedule, that his finances were in place, and that he had activities and
friends to keep him busy.
But what Blankinship didn't expect was discovering how
strongly he was "self-identified by my job. And when I was
no longer senior chaplain at Sunrise Hospital, I began to wonder, 'Who the heck am I?' and 'Who am I now?'
"I had defined myself by what I did, like I think
most people do. We define ourselves by what we do, and when you
aren't doing something, then there's kind of a moment where you say, 'My gosh,
who am I?' And, I became depressed."
It's not uncommon, Wilburn says. For some newly minted
retirees, "the loss of identity and purpose is huge. It
can trigger a major depression."
Men tend to do it more often than women, Wilburn says, while
Rosenberg notes that it is particularly common among
professionals.
"A lot of businesspeople, doctors and lawyers are kind of
classic people who can't let go because their identity is very much tied to what
they got paid for," Rosenberg says. "So, it's healthy even
before retirement to have other outlets -- an artistic outlet or a strong
network of friends -- because if your whole life is work and you leave, you're
really stuck starting over."
Doctors, teachers, ministers and others in helping professions
also may find themselves more susceptible to a rougher transition from
workplace to retirement.
"They've become very accustomed to people needing
them, and it can be quite addicting to feel needed," Rosenberg says.
"So if people are used to feeling needed and appreciated ... people can miss that."
Not even a two-month transition period during which Blankinship
worked part time with his successor helped to ease his transition into
retirement.
"The day I turned in my keys and beeper, it was a
loss," he says. "It was a period of grief. I came home and didn't
know what to do with myself. I was depressed and I was sleeping, like, 12 or 14
hours a day. I was so tired."
The sudden separation from daily contact with workplace friends and
colleagues -- "the interplay, the camaraderie" -- also hit home, Blankinship recalls. "All I
wanted to do was sleep.
"Then I went to see a doctor -- my regular family doctor --
and he nailed it when he said, 'You're in a grieving process.'
"
Janice Alpern, 72, retired in 2006 from her job as a customer
service representative for the Las Vegas Valley Water District. When she
retired, Alpern discovered that a paycheck represents more than money.
"One of the first feelings was the paycheck and that you
have no worth without a paycheck," she explains. "That was my
feeling: That you do something, you get your paycheck, and that was a reward
for your hard work and you earned your reward."
Like Blankinship, Alpern loved her job and was confident that it
was time to move on. But she, too, was surprised to find that she
missed the routine of her job, the people with whom she worked and the
satisfaction she gained from doing her job well.
Then there was the matter of simply filling a large chunk
of time each day. "The week loomed large," Alpern says, "and I
didn't know how to fill it."
Then, Alpern heard about the Osher Lifelong
Learning Institute at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. She
signed up for a few programs and, during an open house, saw a booth for
the Nevada AARP and became a volunteer for the organization.
Alpern notes that most workers who are planning to retire review
their finances and the other nuts-and-bolts aspects of living without a regular
paycheck. But, she says, few take the time to figure out
what they'll actually do during retirement.
"So many of us are living longer," she says, "and you need to fill your time
in meaningful ways."
Margaret "Peg" Rees, vice provost for educational
outreach at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, says new retirees who are
seeking activities to pursue in retirement often do begin with classes and
programs offered through UNLV.
"I think people just switch their energy into new
directions," she says. "Some cook, some come back to school to get retooled,
some take professional development classes and some go off in an entirely new
employment direction. Even when we look at the university/academic side, we
have people that are in their 70s and 80s finishing their degrees because
that's something they've never been able to do and, now, want to and have the
time and resources to do it."
Also beneficial, Rees says, is
that such programs offer retirees a reason to get out of the house and a way to
make social contacts. (For more information, visit http://continuingeducation.unlv.edu or call 895-5486.)
Social isolation can lead retirees into depression, Rosenberg
notes. "People who have strong social
ties tend to be physically and mentally healthier. Isolation is
bad."
Blankinship toughed out his depression for about three months.
Then, he says, "a pastor friend of mine took me out to lunch and said,
'How are you doing?' I said I wasn't doing very good.' "
The friend suggested that Blankinship take on a bit --
just a little bit -- of volunteer work. Blankinship did, "just a couple (of) hours of work a week at the church" and
doing a few home visits.
"The thing I discovered is that there needs to be
some routine in your life. The difference between working and not
working is, the routine is optional, but it's still important," he says.
Today, Blankinship schedules standing get-togethers
-- lunches, dinners and other events -- with friends and family. He volunteers. He reads (mostly
history), takes in movies ("I've
seen probably more movies in the three years since I retired than I did the 32
years I was at Sunrise" ) and has more easily embraced the new rhythms of
retired life. Also, helping to reinforce his daily routine is
caring for Glamis, his enthusiastically friendly mixed-breed dog.
Blankinship says he now enjoys retirement, largely because he has been able to create a new identity for himself that isn't built upon what he
does.
"Little by little, through the help of some friends, not so
much intentionally but just by accident of nature, I began to realize that who I am is not
dependent on what I do, that who I am is who I am," he
says. "I'm a father. I'm a grandfather. I'm a friend. It doesn't
have to do with academic degrees or clergy ordination."
Based on her own experience, Alpern suggests that those who are
considering retirement give serious thought about how they wish to spend it.
She also suggests checking resources such as those at UNLV "ahead of
time," and urges prospective retirees to "not be
one-dimensional" but, instead, seek out a variety of interests to pursue.
Rosenberg suggests building social networks through clubs,
alumni groups and professional organizations before retiring, while Blankinship
urges prospective retirees to give as much thought to the emotional aspects of
retirement as they do to their finances and other basic necessities of
retirement.
And, Blankinship suggests, think positively.
"I would think you need to look at the glass as half-full,"
he says. "I think we all could complain about things, but what good does
that get you?"
In fact, Blankinship now realizes that one of
retirement's blessings is the array of choices it offers.
"I think when I first was retired, I didn't realize how
many choices I had," he says, smiling. "You've got zillions of choices. You could do
anything."
These days, when Blankinship stops by the hospital to visit
somebody, "everybody is glad to see me and they say, 'Would you ever think
of coming back?' "
Blankinship laughs. "No. No, no, no."
