I Thought I Knew Who I Was — Until Retirement Made Me Rethink It

Based on an article I published in Sixty and Me on August 5, 2025.

When Your Title Vanishes, So Does Part of You

A few months after I retired, I was out to dinner with friends.
At one point, someone new at the table turned to me and asked, “So, what do you do?”

For a split second, I froze. Then I smiled and said, “I’m retired.”
The words felt odd in my mouth — not wrong, exactly, but incomplete.

For most of my adult life, I could answer that question easily. My career gave me an identity, a sense of contribution, and a shorthand for explaining who I was. Without it, I realized I wasn’t quite sure how to describe myself anymore.

“When your title disappears, it can take part of your identity with it.”

Why Retirement Can Unsettle Your Sense of Self

Retirement brings freedom — and sometimes a surprising kind of disorientation.
After decades of structure, goals, and external validation, the days open wide. What once felt grounding can suddenly feel like a void.

It’s not that something is wrong; it’s that something new is beginning.
We’re asked to rediscover who we are when the calendar isn’t full and no one’s waiting for our next deliverable.

Psychologists call this an “identity transition.” I think of it as an invitation — a chance to meet yourself again, this time without the professional armor.

Building a New Safety Net

After retiring, I found myself craving purpose and connection. Coaching became both my outlet and my bridge. It gave me a way to keep doing what I’ve always loved — helping people grow — while redefining how that looked.

Through that work, I’ve seen how common this identity wobble is. Women who were teachers, executives, caregivers, and leaders all share a version of the same question: Who am I when I’m no longer what I used to do?

“Retirement reinvention isn’t about starting over — it’s about remembering who you are.”

Learning to Validate Yourself

In my professional life, validation often came from teaching evaluations, research awards, and grant funding. Retirement shifted that. The gold stars stopped arriving.

So I began measuring my days differently. Instead of asking, What did I produce? I started asking, How did I feel?

Did I connect with someone? Did I learn? Did I rest well?
Did I take care of my body? Did I help someone? Was I creative?

That simple shift changed everything. Purpose stopped being something to achieve and became something to experience.

Shedding the Shell

Each of us eventually reaches a point where the old version of who we were no longer quite fits. That’s not loss; it’s evolution.

This season of life asks for patience and trust in yourself — curiosity over certainty, small experiments over big declarations. Some days I still stumble over my answer to “What do you do?” But I’m learning to trust that who I amdoesn’t depend on the answer.

“You’re not lost — you’re becoming.”

Ready to Explore Who You’re Becoming?

If this resonates, I created a free reflection guide called Who Am I Now? — a short, thoughtful exercise to help you reconnect with who you are beyond the roles you’ve played.

And if you’d like to talk through what’s shifting for you, I offer a free 30-minute consult to see whether coaching might be a good fit. It’s a relaxed, no-pressure conversation about where you are and what’s next.

About Elaine

I’m Elaine Belansky, PhD, a retirement-transition coach who helps women in their 50s and 60s design a bold, fulfilling next chapter.

My doctorate is in social psychology, and I spent more than 30 years as a university professor — first in public health, then in education — designing programs to help people increase their health and wellbeing.

In my academic career, recognition came through teaching evaluations, research awards, and grant funding.
Today, I combine that research-based perspective with personal experience and deep empathy to help women navigate the emotional, social, and identity shifts that come with life after retirement.

👉 Learn more at elainebelansky.com

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Peace and Quiet Sounded Perfect—Until I Had Too Much of It in Retirement