I think the last thing a young working person wants to hear from a retired person is how bored they are. No one is going to feel sorry for you. I have plenty I can do when I’m home; I just don’t particularly want to do any of it. Sweep. Dust. Clean. Do laundry. Deal with insurance. Maybe it’s because there’s no satisfaction in finishing any of it. Three days later, it all needs doing again.
When I worked, I thrived on having too much to do. As if I didn’t have enough on my plate, I volunteered. Now that I have time to volunteer, I’m burned out on it. I haven’t found my next passion project yet.
Something I read recently made me think about what it means to feel whole. The light went on. Maybe boredom isn’t the problem. Maybe I’m still looking for the piece of my life that will give me peace.
For most of my adult life, I was a mother with a career I loved. Helping people was a big piece of who I was. Then Thurston got sick, and I retired early and moved right into another job: Being everything he needed me to be. After his transplant, that meant taking responsibility for things like his central line, medications and appointments, along with running the household by myself.
Thankfully, four years later, Thurston can take care of himself and helps me with household chores. The job I had taken so seriously was over. Exactly what we’d hoped for. I just hadn’t considered how I would feel when that job ended, too.
I’ve always told my kids, “If I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, don’t panic if you don’t know either.” I meant it as reassurance for them. I didn’t realize I’d need to take my own advice in retirement.
So here I am, writing, looking to fill the hole left behind by all the things that used to define me. I’m hopeful but just not sure yet.
No matter our age, we all like knowing that something we do matters to somebody. If something I’ve written has made you laugh, reminisce or think, let the editor know. I wouldn’t mind knowing myself.
I’m still figuring out what I want to be when I grow up.
We’re all aging. Let’s do it out loud.
— Nora
As printed in The County Journal September 12, 2026
