What Nobody Tells You About Retirement, and What I Did Instead

When a full life still doesn't feel like enough

You did everything right.

Retirement is supposed to feel like freedom. So why does it feel like something is missing?

I grew up with a very clear script. Work hard, do it well, retire in your 60s. Sooner, if you could.

And then what?

That part was never as clear.

One of my earliest mentors was the Executive Director of the YWCA, where I was building my career. She planned to retire at 55, move to Cape Cod, and paint.

And she did.

That became the model in my head, too. Not the painting part necessarily, but the idea of reaching a point where work was behind you and life could finally slow down.

I understood the appeal of that kind of retirement. I really did.

But somewhere along the way, I also began noticing something else.

When I started my desert container gardening business at 46, many of my clients were already retired. I’d ask them how often they use their patios.

“Not often enough,” they’d say.

So I’d ask what filled their days.

Doctor appointments. House responsibilities. HOA meetings. Lunches. Errands.

Very little pulled them outside when they genuinely wanted to be there.

I remember thinking, “ This can’t be it.

At the time, I was around 50 and still imagining I’d retire early myself. Fifty-five sounded ideal. No more deadlines. No more responsibilities. Time to finally enjoy life.

But watching these women, I realized peace and purpose weren’t always the same thing.

I knew I wouldn’t want to copy that lifestyle entirely because I would get bored.

So I created patios and gardens designed to be used. Not just something beautiful to look at, but spaces that gave people a reason to go outside and stay awhile.

It wasn’t really about the plants.

It was about creating space to think. To breathe. To reconnect with yourself a little.

Looking back now, I think I was building those gardens for more than my clients.

I was building them for the kind of woman I would eventually become, too.

Something didn’t add up

I stayed on my own track.

I built that gardening business for 27 years. I published two gardening books. I taught classes. I built a reputation I earned and valued deeply.

None of that was accidental.

But the idea of stopping never quite fit me.

Even after I sold the business at 60, I kept creating. The books came later, at 64 and 71. Not because I needed another career, but because I still had something I wanted to build.

That’s the part nobody really talks about.

Some women don’t want a life of maintenance.

Some women still need a future that feels alive.

What nobody tells you about retirement

A full calendar can still feel strangely empty underneath.

You can have lunches, book clubs, gardening, people who love you, and still wake up some mornings with a nagging feeling that you need something more than comfort.

Not because you’re ungrateful.

Because some part of you still wants to grow.

For a long time, I thought that meant I was planning retirement wrong. That I hadn’t relaxed enough, let go enough, learned how to be content.

That’s not it.

The script was written for a different kind of woman.

I’m not someone who needs a break from building.

I’m someone who comes alive when I’m building something that matters. A patio garden that gives someone a reason to go outside and stay. Or a story that stays with a reader long after she’s finished reading.

The form changed.

The deeper impulse never did.

And, I went off script

I published my first novel at 73.

I rarely say that out loud.

Part of that is because people stop asking certain questions of a woman of a certain age.

They assume you’re retired now. Slowing down. Settled into your life.

No one really expects you to be building something ambitious or creatively consuming at this stage.

So unless I bring it up myself, it often stays unspoken.

And for a long time, I let it.

But that doesn’t sit well anymore.

Because I’ve started noticing how acceptable certain kinds of aging are.

Travel adventures. Packed social calendars. Bike trips. Staying busy.

But starting something entirely new? Building something deeply creative at this stage of life? That still seems to surprise people.

Especially when you care deeply about it.

Especially when you’re ambitious about it

I no longer apologize for that.

Publishing a novel at 73 isn’t something I tucked into retirement to keep busy.

It became the next meaningful thing I wanted to build.

I didn’t have a roadmap. I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t have anyone telling me it made sense.

I started anyway.

I kept going even when I wasn’t sure I’d finish.

And now there’s a book with my name on it, another one in progress, and women I’ve never met writing to say they didn’t want the story to end.

What’s your retirement script?

The women I write about are all standing in this same place, where the script runs out.

They’ve done what was expected. They’ve lived full lives. And still, something in them is asking for more, not more in the way the world defines it, but more in a way that feels honest.

I don’t write them to give answers.

I write them because I needed to see women like this on the page. Women navigating uncertainty. Women still changing. Women still becoming.

Women who don’t wait for permission.

If this feels familiar, you’ll feel at home in Echo Canyon. For Story Insiders, the stories never end.