When I was twelve years old, I recall thinking that I would be sixty years old in 2012. Such a futuristic date! So far off, so space age.
For some reason, men had to work for 65 years but women got a five-year reprieve. So, when I finished working at my education, I would then continue until I was sixty. That’s a long time to work.
Years later, my father finally retired from working the farm at eighty. Mum had always worked at home and on the farm but had slowed down in her late sixties.
For the first half of my working life, my high-flying career was my whole life. I decided then, that I would not be retiring, as I loved my work so much. I could not imagine myself without my job title.
So, the years rolled by steadily, interspersed with children, family, travel and work. Always working harder and more than was really necessary. Our family have all inherited a very strong work ethic from my parents.
Seminars began to appear in my emails. ‘Preparation for Retirement’. I scoffed. I didn’t need that.
Things in my private life were not so good. Work kept me going. My husband and I lived apart, he in our big house, me with my sister.
Eventually I did attend a Retirement Seminar, where I learned that preparation was crucial to a happy post work life.
This preparation, apart from money matters, included advice to wind down gently, maybe work part time for a while to adjust to more free time. We were encouraged to maintain contact with friends and work colleagues. Make travel plans for our future freedom. Consider volunteering within the community and join clubs and group activities. Spend time outdoors, exercising. Find new interests to keep our minds and bodies active. Create a list of all the things we put off when we don’t have enough free time.
By this stage, retirement ages had been adjusted and I was well past sixty.
The seminar did plant some ideas about how I would like to spend the last thirty years of my life. (Dad lived to 98 and that is my goal!). Just small seeds, but I was considering retirement.
I persuaded my husband to sell our house in the Dandenong Ranges as we were both over bushfire, fallen tree threats.
We opted to jointly buy a house in Benalla as we could not afford two houses. He was anxious to retire, so he moved to Benalla immediately.
I stayed with my older sister, who was now ill with cancer. Still happily working, I took a planned holiday on my own to England to visit my son in February 2020. When I returned to the office in March, I resumed my busy working life.
Within weeks the Covid Epidemic settled over Australia, and we were told we would have to work from home. I couldn’t set up an office at my sister’s home, so within 24 hours I retired.
Retired? How can that be me? I’m not old! That’s what old people do! I was worried that I could put my sister at risk of catching Covid, so another major decision was made overnight, that I would move to Benalla. I just made it there before the lockdown was imposed.
So, ‘Preparation’ is the key to a happy retirement, they say!
I was denied any preparation time, at least mentally and emotionally. Yes, I had thought that I would become involved in community, clubs and volunteering. I would travel, I would spend time with family and friends.
Instead, my retirement was none of those things.
Adjustment to living with my estranged husband once again. No work, no busy schedules, no friends here, no family.
My sister deteriorated and I could not visit her. She died in a hospice and my brother and I were allowed only a couple of hours with her before she passed away. My other sister in Perth was not allowed to come to see her at all.
No funeral. She just disappeared from our lives.
The days, weeks, months dragged on.
Alone in a place where I knew no one else.
My husband spent all day in his shed. I began cooking, but also eating and eating. I gained 30 kilograms. This wasn’t me! This strange person. I walked, but it was limited and didn’t help.
There were so many groups and activities available in Benalla I discovered, but all were in hiatus due to Covid.
I was fearful that my dialysis dependent brother could be taken away by Covid. My younger sister is in Perth. I had not seen her for so long and it didn’t seem likely for the foreseeable future.
My nature is to be gregarious, but I frequently did not speak to anyone for days.
Days came and went in a fuzzy blur. I tried to keep busy with craft but I had been so work oriented for so long. I felt that this was wasting constructive, productive time.
I had not had sufficient transition time to retirement to allow myself enjoyment of these activities. They were always something to be snatched in a few precious minutes. Not something one could indulge in daily.
It made me feel guilty to be doing craft work. It took away my creative pleasure.
I felt I was just filling in time. Till what? Death? But that is not meant to happen for another 30 years. Is this all there is? Retirement?
Depression was overcoming me. I felt edgy. No one from my ‘real life’ would recognise me. Overweight, no clothes that fitted, hair neglected, no makeup. No longer me at all, trapped in this silent world.
So, three years down the retirement track, Covid has receded and life has resumed other peoples’ normality.
But not my normality.
That just vanished in a rush in March 2020.
It has never returned for me. A new life has enveloped me, but I still have that sense of just filling in my time. Wasting time.
Retirement doesn’t seem productive or measurable.
It is not the joyous freedom that I had vaguely anticipated.
I feel that I have become irrelevant in a world in which I used to be a ‘someone’.
It’s not what I expected, but I understand that it did not occur in the usual way.
If I had retired prior to 2020, I’m sure my retirement experience would have been totally different.
It just happened to me. Like many things do in life.
But I guess I now have 28 years left to make it work for me and enjoy it...
Jill Gaumann,
August 2023
For some reason, men had to work for 65 years but women got a five-year reprieve. So, when I finished working at my education, I would then continue until I was sixty. That’s a long time to work.
Years later, my father finally retired from working the farm at eighty. Mum had always worked at home and on the farm but had slowed down in her late sixties.
For the first half of my working life, my high-flying career was my whole life. I decided then, that I would not be retiring, as I loved my work so much. I could not imagine myself without my job title.
So, the years rolled by steadily, interspersed with children, family, travel and work. Always working harder and more than was really necessary. Our family have all inherited a very strong work ethic from my parents.
Seminars began to appear in my emails. ‘Preparation for Retirement’. I scoffed. I didn’t need that.
Things in my private life were not so good. Work kept me going. My husband and I lived apart, he in our big house, me with my sister.
Eventually I did attend a Retirement Seminar, where I learned that preparation was crucial to a happy post work life.
This preparation, apart from money matters, included advice to wind down gently, maybe work part time for a while to adjust to more free time. We were encouraged to maintain contact with friends and work colleagues. Make travel plans for our future freedom. Consider volunteering within the community and join clubs and group activities. Spend time outdoors, exercising. Find new interests to keep our minds and bodies active. Create a list of all the things we put off when we don’t have enough free time.
By this stage, retirement ages had been adjusted and I was well past sixty.
The seminar did plant some ideas about how I would like to spend the last thirty years of my life. (Dad lived to 98 and that is my goal!). Just small seeds, but I was considering retirement.
I persuaded my husband to sell our house in the Dandenong Ranges as we were both over bushfire, fallen tree threats.
We opted to jointly buy a house in Benalla as we could not afford two houses. He was anxious to retire, so he moved to Benalla immediately.
I stayed with my older sister, who was now ill with cancer. Still happily working, I took a planned holiday on my own to England to visit my son in February 2020. When I returned to the office in March, I resumed my busy working life.
Within weeks the Covid Epidemic settled over Australia, and we were told we would have to work from home. I couldn’t set up an office at my sister’s home, so within 24 hours I retired.
Retired? How can that be me? I’m not old! That’s what old people do! I was worried that I could put my sister at risk of catching Covid, so another major decision was made overnight, that I would move to Benalla. I just made it there before the lockdown was imposed.
So, ‘Preparation’ is the key to a happy retirement, they say!
I was denied any preparation time, at least mentally and emotionally. Yes, I had thought that I would become involved in community, clubs and volunteering. I would travel, I would spend time with family and friends.
Instead, my retirement was none of those things.
Adjustment to living with my estranged husband once again. No work, no busy schedules, no friends here, no family.
My sister deteriorated and I could not visit her. She died in a hospice and my brother and I were allowed only a couple of hours with her before she passed away. My other sister in Perth was not allowed to come to see her at all.
No funeral. She just disappeared from our lives.
The days, weeks, months dragged on.
Alone in a place where I knew no one else.
My husband spent all day in his shed. I began cooking, but also eating and eating. I gained 30 kilograms. This wasn’t me! This strange person. I walked, but it was limited and didn’t help.
There were so many groups and activities available in Benalla I discovered, but all were in hiatus due to Covid.
I was fearful that my dialysis dependent brother could be taken away by Covid. My younger sister is in Perth. I had not seen her for so long and it didn’t seem likely for the foreseeable future.
My nature is to be gregarious, but I frequently did not speak to anyone for days.
Days came and went in a fuzzy blur. I tried to keep busy with craft but I had been so work oriented for so long. I felt that this was wasting constructive, productive time.
I had not had sufficient transition time to retirement to allow myself enjoyment of these activities. They were always something to be snatched in a few precious minutes. Not something one could indulge in daily.
It made me feel guilty to be doing craft work. It took away my creative pleasure.
I felt I was just filling in time. Till what? Death? But that is not meant to happen for another 30 years. Is this all there is? Retirement?
Depression was overcoming me. I felt edgy. No one from my ‘real life’ would recognise me. Overweight, no clothes that fitted, hair neglected, no makeup. No longer me at all, trapped in this silent world.
So, three years down the retirement track, Covid has receded and life has resumed other peoples’ normality.
But not my normality.
That just vanished in a rush in March 2020.
It has never returned for me. A new life has enveloped me, but I still have that sense of just filling in my time. Wasting time.
Retirement doesn’t seem productive or measurable.
It is not the joyous freedom that I had vaguely anticipated.
I feel that I have become irrelevant in a world in which I used to be a ‘someone’.
It’s not what I expected, but I understand that it did not occur in the usual way.
If I had retired prior to 2020, I’m sure my retirement experience would have been totally different.
It just happened to me. Like many things do in life.
But I guess I now have 28 years left to make it work for me and enjoy it...
Jill Gaumann,
August 2023
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