Before I retired, I had a fairly clear picture of what retirement was supposed to look like. I imagined days that were productive, purposeful, and somehow more impressive than the working years that came before them. I thought I would finally become the person who used time “well,” whatever that meant.
As it turns out, retirement didn’t make me more impressive. It made me more honest.
Here are a few things I truly believed I’d be doing in retirement — and why I don’t do them at all.
Sleeping In Every Day
This one surprises people when I tell them. I don’t set an alarm anymore, but I still wake up early every morning. Decades of working trained my body well, and apparently it didn’t get the memo that I retired.
The difference now isn’t the time I wake up — it’s the absence of urgency. There’s no rush out the door, no mental checklist already running in my head, and no sense that I’m behind before the day even begins. Mornings start quietly, usually with coffee and a little stillness, and the day unfolds when it’s ready. That alone feels like a luxury I didn’t fully appreciate before.
Staying Busy Just to Feel Useful
I used to think retirement would require constant activity to avoid feeling unproductive. Somewhere along the way, we learn that being busy equals being valuable, and that lesson sticks longer than it should. I wrote more about this shift in perspective in my post on living alone after retirement.
What I’ve learned instead is that usefulness doesn’t disappear when the calendar clears. It just changes shape. Some days are active and full. Others are slow and intentionally uneventful. Sitting quietly, thinking, or doing nothing in particular no longer feels like wasted time. It feels earned.
Traveling All the Time
In my imagination, retirement included a packed travel schedule and plenty of stories to tell. And while travel can be enjoyable, I discovered that I don’t need to be constantly going somewhere to feel fulfilled.
There’s a comfort in being home that doesn’t get enough credit. Familiar routines, sleeping in my own bed, and enjoying the quiet rhythm of ordinary days turned out to be more satisfying than I expected. Peace, it turns out, doesn’t require a suitcase.
Dressing Better
I assumed retirement would come with some sort of wardrobe upgrade, as if fewer work rules meant better style. What actually happened was the opposite. I simplified.
Comfort won out over presentation. Consistency replaced variety. I stopped dressing for approval and started dressing for myself, which, as it turns out, is far less complicated. When no one is evaluating you, getting dressed becomes refreshingly straightforward.
Following a Strict Schedule
For most of my life, time was carefully divided into appointments, meetings, and obligations. Retirement quietly removed that structure, and I expected the absence of a schedule to feel disorienting.
Instead, it felt freeing. Days have a natural flow now. If something happens later than planned, it’s fine. If nothing happens at all, that’s fine too. Time no longer feels like something to manage — it feels like something to live inside of.
Trying to Impress Anyone
This may be the biggest shift of all. I thought I would still feel the need to explain how I spend my time, what projects I’m working on, or what I’m planning next. That urge faded faster than I expected.
Retirement quietly removes the audience. There’s no performance required, no need to justify a slower pace or simpler choices. You realize that you don’t owe anyone productivity, and you don’t need permission to enjoy a quieter life.
What Retirement Taught Me
I didn’t fail at retirement. I simply let go of the idea that it needed to look a certain way.
I stopped measuring days by output and started noticing how they felt instead. I stopped filling space just to appear busy and allowed quiet to exist without explanation. Somewhere in that shift, calm and clarity took the place of urgency.
If you’re retired — or approaching it — and your life doesn’t resemble the version you once imagined, that’s not a problem. It may actually mean you’re doing it right.
Sometimes the real reward of retirement isn’t the freedom to do more.
It’s the freedom to finally do less — without guilt.
☕