IDENTITY- THE STRUGGLE-#4
July 28th, 2026
“You have to keep unmasking the world about you for what it is: manipulative, controlling, power-hungry, and, in the long run, destructive. The world tells you many lies about who you are, and you simply have to be realistic enough to remind yourself of this. Every time you feel hurt, offended, or rejected, you have to dare to say to yourself: ‘These feelings, strong as they may be, are not telling me the truth about myself. The truth, even though I cannot feel it right now, is that I am the chosen child of God, precious in God’s eyes, called the Beloved from all eternity, and held safe in an everlasting embrace” Henri Nouwen, Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World
“For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like a mortal human being…” Romans 1:21-23
The work world operates on its own set of rules. You wake up, find a niche and leverage your effort and skill to make a name, carve a place or find your spot in the queue. Its a noble pursuit. Its a noble pursuit. It brings real fulfillment and genuine satisfaction. For a season, it is enough— more than enough.
But what happens when that pattern goes on for decades — and then stops?
An eight to ten hour block of time is suddenly freed up, and you’re left with not only the challenge of filling it, but the deeper challenge of replacing what it carried. Value. Affirmation. Social connection. Purpose. The emails stop. The carefully planned schedules are no longer required. The assistant is gone. The nameplate, the title, the business card that nobody really keeps anymore — all of it, gone. The meetings, the lunches, the quiet satisfaction at the end of a productive day. Gone. It’s emptying on more fronts than you expect.
At first you embrace the freedom. You sleep a little later, work out a little more. Maybe you take up a hobby or a musical instrument. Maybe you jump straight into volunteering. And these things are good — genuinely good. But if you’re honest, none of them quite replace the particular feeling of having skin in the game. Of mattering in a way that is measured and visible and confirmed by others. Like at a social gathering. The ones you’d look forward to but now kind of dread. How do you answer the question “So what are you doing now?” The work answer was so easy—-even if you knew the person asking wasn’t really listening. Its all just small talk—- right? But now it’s more than that. Its your stake in the ground—- your identity. I fumbled this one for a good year. I even stretched the truth on the length of my non-compete, just so I didn’t have to elaborate on where I truly was. And where was I truly? I was struggling. Monday’s were the hardest. Recharged from a weekend of rest, I found myself stuck in the stall and the gates wouldn’t open. Everyone else was back to their routine and I was left to myself. Just me at 8:01am….
Now I’m not going to suggest that this held true for everyone. I have some good friends who have embraced this stage of life and are filling it admirably. However reams of current data will suggest that this is quiet storm for many people—- particularly men. Depression, anxiety and addictive behaviour are not uncommon in the 55+ age category and the reality is that men just don’t do a good job of talking about this. The brave face and “I’m doing ok” response is a default that’s built in. And why would this be the case? In large part because work taught us that. Aside from being the dominant currency of identity in the world we inhabit, it creates and embeds a sense of independence and control. What I do becomes a big part of how I live and who I am. Every social interaction typically begins the same way — “So what do you do?” — and everything flows from the answer. It is more than a moniker. It is a brand burned into your psyche over decades, and unpacking it is not a casual exercise. I lived it. The silence where the answer used to be is louder than you think it will be.
Which brings us back to Nouwen’s quote. Being told you are “beloved” can feel abstract at best. Words that echo hollow against the noise of a culture that still celebrates production and accumulation. Nouwen knew this. He wrestled with acceptance and identity his entire life which is precisely why his words carry the weight they do. They are not offered from a place of arrival. They were offered as an anthem- an intention and commitment that could beat back against a drum beat that said otherwise. And perhaps more candidly, words that continue to remind and reorient me. The old script still surfaces. But slowly and intentionally, a different voice is having the last word. And the persistence that is tied to the effort, I am beginning to believe, is well worth it.