I’ve been a working single mom for most of my adult life. The kind who rarely sat down, who filled silence with tasks, and whose calendar was always brimming. I didn’t think much about “balance” or “slowing down”—I was too busy keeping things afloat.
“You are not too old, and it is not too late.” – Rainer Maria Rilke
While others were meal-prepping or planning family weekends, I was working. Relentlessly. And if I’m honest, obsessively. I believed that providing financially was the best way I could love and support my child. So I showed up for the paycheck. I missed rehearsals, performances, birthday parties. I told myself, one day they’ll understand. Maybe they do. Maybe I’m the one still working on forgiveness.
Retirement-ish:
Searching for Purpose After the Hustle
Then came the layoff. A couple of years ago, just like that, the job that had become my identity was gone. At first, I tried to “bounce back” in that scrappy way I always had. But the truth is: I didn’t bounce. I cracked.
Anxiety settled in, quiet but fierce. Driving became hard. Crowds became hard. Even getting dressed some days felt… too much. I wasn’t just unemployed—I was untethered. For someone whose worth had always been wrapped up in doing, I didn’t know how to just be.
And here’s the strange thing: in the chaos of all that unraveling, I realized I’d never once thought about retirement. It wasn’t even in my vocabulary. Retirement was for other people—people who’d planned, saved, followed some stable path. Not people like me, who were still scrambling to make ends meet in their 50s.
But here I am. Somewhere in this not-quite-retired, not-quite-working phase of life. Retirement-ish.
I won’t pretend I have answers. I’m still stumbling forward, still figuring out what purpose looks like when it’s no longer tied to productivity. Some days I feel hopeful. Other days I feel like I’m moving in molasses. But I keep going. One tiny action at a time.
And those tiny things matter. A completed form. A new skill. A job lead that didn’t work out but taught me something anyway. A walk outside even though my chest was tight. A blog post written, maybe even read.
If you’re reading this and find yourself in a similar place—searching, starting over, unsure—you’re not alone. You’re not behind. You’re just on a different kind of path.
Let’s give ourselves permission to begin again. Not with grand plans or perfect vision. Just a quiet willingness to keep moving, even when the road feels foggy. Let’s make a tiny dent today—and call that enough.
– Kate
Would you like to share your own story of finding purpose after a career shift or stepping into retirement? We’d love to hear it. Share your journey in the comments or submit your story—your words may be just what someone else needs to read today.
Real life, real experiences. Share your wisdom, your wins, or even the mess — because life after 50 is worth talking about.
