When Work Ends, Who Are You?

One evening recently, Laurie Hirsch Schulz and I hosted a Rethink Retirement workshop. What unfolded was far more emotional, insightful, and revealing than either of us expected.

Laurie is an amazing transition coach. Tying together her perspective and ours created a fascinating evening of discovery—both for each of us and our participants.

In fact each time I host a workshop, either in person or virtual, I learned a recurring lesson: each person is facing off against “retirement” in their own personal way. Yet, it feels like they are all tackling the same problem or opportunity to redefine their identity.

The question for the evening was: “without work, who am I?”

The group itself told an important story. Roughly half women and half men. All accomplished. All thoughtful. All trying to answer the same question:

What happens when work no longer defines my days?

As a corporate anthropologist, I spend much of my life observing people as they navigate cultural transitions. Retirement may be one of the biggest cultural transitions any of us ever experience. It is not simply a financial event. It is a profound identity shift.

That night, we watched that shift happening in real time.

What fascinated me most was how differently the men and women in the room described their fears, hopes, and struggles.

The men, interestingly enough, largely felt finished with work. Many were tired. Burned out. Ready to step away from the pressure, responsibility, and endless demands. They wanted relief.

But beneath that relief was another question quietly waiting for them:

If I am no longer working, what meaningful role do I now play?

Several spoke about wanting purpose after work but not necessarily wanting another “work” career. They wanted significance without the grind. Community without corporate politics. Meaning without endless stress.

Several of the women described something quite different.

Many of them were deeply attached to their work—not simply because of achievement, but because their work had become intertwined with identity, contribution, relationships, and purpose itself.

For several women, retirement did not feel freeing.

It felt frightening.

Without work, who were they? Where would meaning come from? What would structure their lives? Who needed them now?

This is not a casual transition. They were facing this “liminal” stage between who they have become and what was coming next.

We spend decades building careers, businesses, reputations, expertise, and routines. Our calendars structure our days. Our colleagues become our community. Our work gives us status, purpose, and meaning.

Then one day, often quite suddenly, it stops.

And we are left asking:

Who am I without my business card?

That question sat at the center of our conversation all evening.

What struck me most was that nobody in the room was asking, “How do I stay busy?”

They were asking something much deeper:

• How do I stay meaningful?

• How do I stay connected?

• How do I build days that matter?

• How do I create purpose in this next chapter?

• How do I enjoy my life without losing myself?

This is why I believe we need to completely rethink retirement.

Not as an ending.
Not as a withdrawal.
Not as endless leisure.

But as a transition into a new stage of becoming.

Some people are ready for it.
Some are terrified by it.
Most are somewhere in between.

What I continue to learn from these workshops is that retirement is less about money than meaning.

And perhaps the greatest challenge of all is not leaving work.

It is discovering who you are after it.

I would love to hear from you:

Share with us: If work disappeared tomorrow, what part of your identity would you miss the most?

And what new part of yourself might still be waiting to emerge?

I just completed a webinar on this very topic with two wonderful people who are in our book, Karen Greenbaum and John Sampson. I will post the video in the next few days. I think the conversation is worth building upon, and reflecting on this opportunity for each of us to invent the next “me.”