A retirement lesson: It was never about the work

I got my first job when I was 15 and retired last week after 46 years of working.

Looking back, rather than seeing a progressive career, I see a meandering path and a fervent push to be productive and independent.

I did clerical work, sold vacuum cleaners door-to-door, worked in a hospital kitchen and in a sewing factory. I was a teacher’s aid and a research assistant, and I wrote sentence recommendations for young offenders. I’ve served food at a fly-in fishing lodge and I’ve been a civil servant, both in policy and communications.

I made one brief, disastrous attempt at self-employment, trying to convince myself, and others, that I could do statistics. What are the odds? Seriously, what are they?

In all, I’ve had 19 jobs. At times I lacked finesse and grace, but I worked hard and I’m proud of my efforts to plough through challenges and learn the skills I’ve mastered.

But there’s one skill I’m proudest of. I learned to connect.

When I was a kid, I had a pat answer for the question: What do you want to be when you grow up?

“I want to be a hermit. I want to live in the woods, eat roots and berries and write poetry” said pre-teen me.

Like any true introvert, I felt safer in isolation. I had dodgy social skills and a lot of anxiety. Learning technical skills was easy compared to learning to let down my guard around people and to trust myself.

Over the years, through a lot of hard work, I discovered the value of connection. I learned to recognize my social anxiety – to modify my behaviour when I could and accept my eccentricities when I couldn’t. And I learned to let people in.

The last few years have easily been my best. I’m proud of the work I accomplished and I’m grateful for the recognition I’ve received. But, more than that, I’m proud of the relationships I built. I was a little late emerging from those woods, but I made up for lost time.

Looking back, it’s become clear to me that the work – all those years of great struggle to meet deadlines and self-imposed standards of perfection – was secondary to the people that crossed my path.

From the briefest of encounters to the deep, lasting friendships I have been gifted with, it’s connection I can point to as my greatest accomplishment.

As my career wound down last week, my instinct was to slip out the door and avoid a fuss. Instead, I agreed to let my colleagues throw a party for me. And what a party it was! French food, French decor, French music – carefully selected with me in mind. There were speeches that brought me to tears, wonderful hugs and a generous parting gift.

What a beautiful way to wrap up this very long chapter that brought me from a place of deep insecurity and anxiety to feeling seen and cherished. And what a valuable lesson I take with me as I start over again in my next chapter.