A short note - I’ve written elsewhere on this site about the identity struggle that comes with leaving full time work. This is just one of what I would imagine will be a series of ongoing entries that are tracking the practical part of that journey….
I recently listened to a TED Talk by Dr. Riley Moynes, a former financial advisor who took an honest look back at his own retirement journey with candour and a few hard won insights.
Before sharing his personal experience, he offered a stat that widened my eyes in attention—roughly 10,000 people a day will retire over the next ten to fifteen years in North America. Ten thousand. Daily. He called it a human tsunami — a massive wave of people descending into post-work life largely unprepared for what many studies suggest could be up to a third of their entire lives. That's not a small transition. That's a new chapter of significant length and consequence.
What prompted me most though was his observation on trial and error — because that is a mindset I had never once applied to my own post-work journey and one that frankly seemed like a breeding ground for frustration and angst.
For thirty-five years I had followed a North Star professionally. Set the goal. Map the path. Commit. Execute. Arrive. It had served me exceptionally well. So naturally, when full-time work wound down, that is exactly the framework I carried forward. I had a three-year non-compete agreement, worked the first two years in compliance with its restrictions, and planned to use the third year to retrain into something new. For me, that “something new” was executive coaching. My point of distinction was clear in my mind — thirty-five years of recruitment pedigree coupled with hard-earned life experience. Unique. Valued. I was sure of it. Like most of my career, if I committed to it, it would work.
Two things happened.
First, my network received the idea warmly — "That's wonderful, you'll be terrific at this" …”can’t imagine a better person suited for it”— Wonderful reception….but nobody was buying. Enthusiasm without engagement. Encouragement without outcomes. Not just once. Repeatedly. Second, and more sobering: the few conversations and engagements that did evolve, left me flat. They dragged. The interest wasn't there. I couldn't imagine charging a fee for something I wasn't genuinely interested or dialed into doing.
What followed was a season of quiet panic. If the coaching path wasn't working and I wasn't doing something purposeful, what exactly was I doing with all this time? After thirty-five years in recruitment — where the first question in any social interaction is "So what do you do?" — I found myself dreading that question entirely. Heart palpitations. A sudden crisis of self-consciousness I hadn't expected and didn't know what to do with. I felt genuinely lost.
This is where Moynes' talk helped me enormously.
Part of my struggle was that I was trying to nail the next chapter — to button down not just my activities but my identity, the way I had always done. His advice was the inverse of that. Treat experiences lightly. It doesn't have to be life or death. Nothing needs to be permanent or defining straight away. Try things. See what fits. What's really at stake after all?
I felt something ease in me when I heard that.
I took a longer, more honest look at what I had actually been doing — and realized things weren't as bleak as my anxiety had been suggesting. In a weird and totally unexpected way I was actually following his advice without knowing it. I was volunteering at a food bank weekly. I had taken on part-time work at a funeral home. I had started this website, feeding a long-standing desire to write and share something of my experience. None of these had been part of the plan. They just became a means to fill the day but not in a way that I had expected. All of them, I realized, had something important in common — they were oriented outward, toward others, rather than inward toward my own affirmation. Moynes identifies this as a critical step. Service to others is paramount. Did I understand this intellectually? Certainly. Did I realize how important it was to your state of being and approach as a whole? . Not at all. And now having almost accidentally fallen into, how could I not agree.
As time has continued to pass, the panic and self-consciousness have faded. Not disappeared entirely — but no longer a crisis. Things continue to unfold. My wife and I are now looking at joining a conversation circle aimed at new immigrants who are looking to improve their language and communication skills. Our involvement with our church has stepped up and through it all none of the experiences feel pressed or zero sum oriented. And interestingly, the interest in coaching has quietly re-awakened — not as a profession or a revenue stream, but as mentoring. As guiding. Something these three-plus years have, I think, genuinely better prepared me for.
A good friend reminded me recently that the working world teaches us a language and a vernacular — a whole way of being and measuring — that we absorb over decades of training. How we speak and interpret in a commercial setting. How could it be any surprise, then, that the post-work world would require its own language, its own rhythms, its own slow learning curve? Moynes calls this final phase one of reinventing and rewiring. And one, he goes on to add that represent the most enjoyable period of post work life.
I’m not sure I’ve arrived there quite yet and I’m not sure that arrival should be the goal anyway. Time seems to teach that in its own way doesn’t it? And maybe that’s all that was ever needed… just time. Time to unbundle the titles and labels. Time to temper expectations. Time to reorder priorities properly and recognize some of the peace that comes with it. I’ll settle on that for now and be quite glad for it.