10 Quiet signs someone is struggling with retirement even though they’d never admit it – VegOut

Have you ever noticed how some of the most talkative people at dinner parties suddenly become masters of deflection when retirement comes up? Last week, I watched a former colleague skillfully steer every conversation away from his new life of leisure, and it reminded me of something I’ve been observing for years now. The people who struggle most with retirement are often the ones who insist everything is “just fine.”

After teaching high school English for 32 years, I thought I knew what retirement would look like. I had plans, savings, and what I believed was a realistic outlook. But when my knees finally gave out at 64 and I had to leave the classroom earlier than expected, I discovered that retirement has its own secret language of struggle that most of us are too proud to speak aloud.

1. They’ve stopped talking about the future

Remember when your friend used to dream out loud about retirement adventures? The cross-country RV trip, the volunteer work, the novel they’d finally write? When someone stops painting pictures of tomorrow, it’s often because today feels too overwhelming. I’ve noticed this in book clubs and coffee shops – the shift from “when I retire, I’m going to…” to a vague “we’ll see what happens.” It’s as if the future has become something to endure rather than anticipate.

2. Their home has become too perfect or too chaotic

There’s something telling about extremes. When I visit retired friends, I’ve noticed their homes fall into two categories: museum-level perfection or concerning disarray. Both are cries for structure. The obsessive organizer is trying to control something, anything, in a life that suddenly lacks external deadlines. The person letting things slide might be overwhelmed by too much unstructured time. Neither extreme reflects the comfortable lived-in quality of someone at peace with their days.

3. They’re suddenly an expert on everyone else’s problems

Virginia Woolf once wrote about the human need to feel essential, and nowhere is this more apparent than in retirement. When someone who barely asked about your life before suddenly becomes intensely invested in your work drama or your neighbor’s marriage troubles, they might be searching for purpose by proxy. I catch myself doing this sometimes – offering unsolicited advice about lesson plans to young teachers, as if their classrooms might somehow still be mine.

4. The calendar is either completely empty or absurdly full

Balance is the first casualty of retirement struggle. Some folks pack their schedules so tight they make their working years look leisurely. Others let days blur together in an endless stream of nothing. Both approaches mask the same fear: without work, who am I? The healthy retiree has rhythm – busy days and quiet ones, commitments and spontaneity. When someone can’t find that middle ground, they’re usually wrestling with bigger questions.

5. They’ve developed strong opinions about working people

“People today don’t know what real work is” or “I don’t know how anyone manages these days” – these polar opposite views often come from the same place of disconnection. When retirees become either harshly critical or overly pitying of the working world, they’re usually mourning their own lost place in it. I remember spending months after retirement critically dissecting every educational article I read, as if my anger could somehow pull me back into relevance.

6. Physical symptoms without clear causes

The body keeps score, as they say. Sudden sleep problems, mysterious aches, digestive issues that doctors can’t quite explain – retirement struggle often writes itself on our bodies. After my second husband died, I developed a shoulder pain that no amount of physical therapy could touch. It only eased when I finally admitted I was carrying the weight of an identity crisis along with my grief. Our bodies often tell truths our mouths won’t speak.

7. They’ve become unusually rigid or completely rootless

Watch for the person who now eats the same breakfast at the exact same time every day, or conversely, the one who can’t seem to establish any routine at all. Both are symptoms of the same problem: the loss of externally imposed structure. When work no longer dictates our rhythms, some of us create artificial rigidity while others drift entirely. The struggle lives in both extremes.

8. Money conversations have changed dramatically

It’s not about having less money – it’s about what money conversations reveal. Someone constantly checking their portfolio might be searching for validation that they made the right choice. Someone who won’t discuss finances at all might be hiding anxiety about whether their savings will last. The retiree who’s found peace talks about money like weather – acknowledging it without obsession or avoidance.

9. They’re living through others or living in the past

Do they know more about their adult children’s work projects than their children do? Can they recite, word for word, conversations from their working years? When someone can’t inhabit their present life, they often take up residence in other people’s presents or their own past. I spent six months after retiring practically stalking my former students on social media, living vicariously through their college acceptances and career launches.

10. Small decisions have become monumentally difficult

What to have for lunch. Whether to go to the grocery store today or tomorrow. Which book to read next. When every decision carries equal weight because none of them really matter, decision fatigue becomes overwhelming. I’ve watched brilliant former executives stand paralyzed in the cereal aisle, and I understood completely. Without consequential choices, even insignificant ones can feel impossibly heavy.

Final thoughts

If you recognize someone you love in these signs, or perhaps see yourself reflected here, know that struggling with retirement doesn’t mean failure. It means you’re human, processing one of life’s major transitions. The teacher in me wants to grade this transition, to mark it pass or fail, but I’ve learned that retirement, like grief, has its own timeline. The key isn’t to fix or rush anyone through it, but to acknowledge that behind the “everything’s fine” might live a more complicated truth that deserves compassion, patience, and perhaps a gentle conversation over coffee.