A little before Covid I treated a cop who had retired a few years earlier. After about five years on the job, he began counting down the days before he could stop working. “I wanted to get away from my bosses, my co-workers, the public, the hours, the stress,” he told me.
Ironically or tragically or maybe a bit of both, he was miserable in retirement. Without structure, his health declined and he felt a shocking lack of purpose. After asking him a few questions I told him, “You spent 25 years working and very little time actually building a life.”
“God damn you are harsh.”
“It would have been better if you had seen me ten or fifteen years ago. But, we can still fix this, if you are willing.”
“Tell me what to do.”
I’ve had a few hundred versions of that conversation over the last ten years. When most people talk about retirement, they are focused on (a) not working at their job anymore and (b) how much money they will have for the rest of their lives. While the financial aspect is very important, it is overemphasized to the detriment of the other aspects of what I call Retirement Capital.
Retirement Capital is a combination of money, health, relationships, hobbies, places to go and, most importantly, identity and purpose.
I have noticed that retirement is a big predictor of physical and mental decline. That written, choosing to work at 75 is very different from having to work at 75. One caveat is that some jobs take a terrible physical toll and people are obviously better off stopping. The point isn’t that people miss the work itself, but rather they miss the structure and routine. They end up moving less and often change sleeping patterns. For many, work was the major source of cognitive stimulation in their lives and without it, they board an earlier train to decline and impairment.
A woman wrote to a help column on NJ.com about how she had no friends after she stopped working, because her job made up almost all of her social network. This is a brutally common situation. Back to the cop that started this all off; almost all of the people he regularly interacted with were other law enforcement officers. He had no friends who weren’t cops. When he stopped working, his social contacts dropped to just workers at the grocery and liquor stores.
“I focused on work. Solving cases. Getting overtime and earning promotions. I stopped going to church because I was either working or sleeping. Now that I’m not working, I don’t hear from any of the other cops still on the job.”
There is a retired doctor in his late 70s that I recently started treating. He was a star in his specialty. He was so good at his job that he had privileges in hospitals in New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania. He stopped playing golf and fishing in his 30s because his career took off and he had young children. He wasn’t interested in picking those hobbies up 40 years later. “I don’t know what to do with myself,” he said during our first session. He admits that he watches too much television and worries about politics “all of the time.”
In the early 1900s, church leaders started referring to elderly members of the congregation who couldn’t come out as shut-ins. This was usually because of some kind of infirmity or disability. Over a hundred years later, there are a large number of elderly adults who are physically capable of leaving their homes but don’t. They are the voluntary shut-ins. They don’t go anywhere because they don’t have anywhere to go. Work provided them with a daily destination. For those that had children, they may have spent a few decades going to places outside of work because of their kids. With no job and no kids to attend to, they just stay at home.
I remember one of my college history professors telling me a story about a famous correspondent from 60 Minutes. I don’t remember who and it doesn’t matter. His problem was that he was used to calling up people and saying this is XXXX from 60 Minutes and people would jump. He worried that people would no longer jump that same way after he left the show. It was a major impact on his identity.
So many members of the military find themselves adrift after they leave the service in their 30s or 40s or 50s. I have met so many retired officers who instantly tell people about their rank and missions, even if they are a decade removed from them. I ran into a woman in her late 60s last summer while hiking in the Catskills; she had been out of the Army for 25 years but had on an Army shirt, carried an Army backpack and wore an Army hat. We talked about the hike and then the Army. I tried to move on to other topics but she told me about military successes and failures. After we moved on, my friend Kevin mournfully said, “Her identity hasn’t changed in 25 years.”
This happens with cops too. “Who am I without a gun and a badge?” a retired New Jersey State Trooper once pondered aloud rhetorically. “I’m nobody,” he sadly answered. “I sacrificed my marriage, time with kids, friends and hobbies for the job. Now the job is done and I have nothing. What was the point?”
Movie stars and celebrities struggle with this after their time in the spotlight has passed. Athletes who don’t move into coaching or broadcasting often have a hard time finding their footing.
Work provides people with a schedule. It is a large part of their identity. It gives them a place to go and a social network. In many cases, it forces them to move around. It gives them a sense of purpose; in happy instances, a deeply fulfilling purpose. Once someone stops working, they often experience a multi-domain disruption.
Money. Health. Relationships. Hobbies. Places to go. Identity. Purpose.
“How many of those do I need to be happy in retirement?” a client asked me.
“I hate the question,” I told her. “They are all important. Some people have more relationships and less hobbies. And vice versa.”
“But if you had to say…”
“If you are lacking in two or three, retirement will be unfulfilling. If you are low in four or more, your last years will probably be miserable.”
In May, I attended the retirement party of Roger Shutack. He was my history teacher at Voorhees High School 33 years ago. He taught high school for 40 years and then at Raritan Valley Community College for the last 20. The room was filled with over 200 people; lots of former colleagues and loads of former students from all eras. When I got up to speak, I said that while I was proud of Roger and that he earned his rest, I was not fully supporting his retirement. “You still have things to offer.”
At breakfast a month later, Roger told me that he would take a few classes, play more golf, continue having breakfast with friends, visit his kids and grandkids, maybe host a podcast and look to do some volunteering. I told him that those were all great plans, except for the podcast.1 Roger is an ideal example of someone who, post-retirement, still has a deep sense of identity and purpose. He has accumulated a lot of Retirement Capital. Significantly, he never ignored one of those life areas to focus on work, like the aforementioned cops, the surgeon and (throw a dart) an unmentioned CEO. And yet, he still had a wildly successful teaching career.
As I told the cop in the opening of this essay, it is easier to help people adjust in their 40s and early 50s. After that, it gets much harder. It is woefully difficult for people to fix their health, make friends and find purpose in their 70s. Preparation for one’s post-working life must occur decades earlier.
My mother retired from teaching when she was 61. She taught, mostly high school English, for over 27 years in Denver, Los Angeles, Connecticut and several towns in New Jersey. She goes to the gym several times a week and is trying to average about 7000 steps a day. She perpetually wears a pedometer around her neck that I gave her a few Christmases ago and asks me if I’m proud of her 7000 steps. “Could be better,” I say in order to ever push her forward.
She chairs the Tewksbury Seniors Club, volunteers at Littlebrook Nursing Home, attends Women’s Club meetings and organizes numerous activities for members, volunteers and her friends.
She travels frequently, including driving to Maine each summer to visit her friend Carol and at least one big international trip each fall. She attends Civil War and Revolutionary War discussion groups, about 30 plays a year with me and reads several books per month.
Her health isn’t perfect but she goes for regular appointments and exams. I successfully harassed her to start getting yearly dermatology checkups this summer.
Money. Health. Relationships. Hobbies. Places to go. Identity. Purpose.
The money is modest but her Retirement Capital is off the charts. Friends of mine talk to her and tell me “You are very lucky. She’s doing great.”
Luck has little to do with it. She built this life over almost nine decades.
I recently turned 50. I expect to work at my current pace for another 15 to 20 years and then drop down to maybe 20 hours a week for the next 10 to 15 years. “Why would you do that?” some people ask me.
“I love teaching, writing, counseling, supervising, consulting and public speaking. I continue to get better at it. Why would I stop now?”
I was born and raised with a huge advantage. My parents modeled academic, work, social and community behaviors. I don’t have my mother’s particular genius for social organizing, but it’s close.2
For those that didn’t grow up with social models or were raised by workaholics or whose parents weren’t around at all, developing Retirement Capital is harder. No doubt. It’s not an excuse, but it is a constraint.
Each of the seven aspects is important. Don’t ask me the bullshit question about which is most important. Obviously money makes a bunch of other things possible. If you aren’t healthy, you can’t do much at all. There is an almost century-long study out of Harvard that finds that your relationships are the biggest predictor of happiness.
When he was at Auschwitz, Victor Frankl noted that the people that did the best, that didn’t give into despair, that survived and moved on, were those that had purpose and community. His community is just another word, perhaps a better word, for relationships. That tracks with the Harvard study. I share both because I’m a bit skeptical of the Harvard study; not because of the methodology but because of the subjects. The people in the study were set up for world class success. The fact that Frankl found that the people in Auschwitz, inarguably one of the worst places to be in world history, did better if they had relationships cements the Harvard study for me.
Many people cruise through life with their job being their biggest purpose. The other big winner in the purpose surveys that I ask is “my kids.” But while a 4 or 11 year-old can take most of your focus, a 26 or 37 year-old doesn’t need (nor want) the same amount of attention. Jobs are temporary forms for primary purpose. Same with kids.
The big question I ask newly retired people is, “What are you going to do with the rest of your life?”
And playing golf or watching TV or drinking more cocktails ultimately gets pretty boring.
I’ve been running a Veterans Group for over six years. I’ve been treating Veterans for over 20. So often, the public asks, “What can we do for Veterans?” I believe the better question is what can Veterans still offer society. People want, they need to feel useful. The Vets that I know that do the best sit on councils or volunteer with animals or build houses or randomly help around the neighborhood.
In a 2008 New York Times interview, Billy Joel cited Vienna as one of two songs that he really got right. Another interview went further in-depth:
“We were walking in the city and I remember seeing an old lady sweeping the street and I said, ‘Dad it’s kind of sad that that poor old woman has to do that kind of work.’ He said, ‘No, she has a job, she feels useful, she has a place in our society,’” Joel recalls.
“I realized they [Europeans] don’t throw old people away like we tend to do here in the States. They allow for people who are aged to have a useful place in the scheme of things, and I thought, ‘ya know that’s a good metaphor for someone my age to consider.’ You don’t have to squeeze your whole life into your 20s and 30s trying to make it, trying to achieve that American dream, getting in the rat race, and killing yourself. You have a whole life to live. I kind of used ‘Vienna’ as a metaphor, there is a reason for being old, a purpose.”
https://www.masslive.com/entertainment/2008/07/billy_joel_exclusive_interview.html
Disclosure: A large language model was used for copy editing, editorial feedback and counterarguments in accordance with my AI Use & Writing Standards. All words, arguments, interpretations, advice and conclusions are my own.







