31 Mar Retirement Anxiety: fear or hope?

March 2025

Brief bio:

I’m married to Paul and together we have four children and six grandchildren. I work for an international children’s charity, doing a job I love. My husband retired fully last year and the pressure is on for me to join him!

A little more:

I started my current job late August 2018 and just weeks later on October 7th the unthinkable happened – our youngest son Ben suddenly died. He was twenty five, fit, healthy and very adventurous but for some unknown reason went into cardiac arrest as he crossed the finish line of the Cardiff Half Marathon. 

In one horrific moment our beautiful safe world unravelled and irreversibly changed for ever. 

For days we wandered around like zombies – shell shocked and numb. We cried, we hugged, we raged, we questioned, we walked, we talked, we drank too much and somehow we managed to arrange a celebration of life fitting for our darling boy!!

That day!

“Right in the middle of our life, on an ordinary day, the unthinkable happened. 

Everything went from ordinary to chaotic and there I stood in the mess of it all, knowing there will now forever be a before and an after.”

- Sharyn Marsh 
(Leave Her Wild) 

But this is not a blog about grief (I’ve written extensively about that for over six years) it’s about what happened next. How work got me through some of the darkest days of my life. 

Despite advice to the contrary, I made the tentative decision to return after about 5 weeks. I needed a distraction – something purposeful to help counteract the unbearable unspeakable cataclysmic agony. 

If I’m brutally honest I didn’t really want to keep living and the unrelenting weight of raw pain was sucking me into a pit of dark frightening depression. 

Grief isolates you – it disconnects you from everything and everyone. I knew I had to try and find strength to realign myself to a world that felt alien and wrong. I thought the longer I waited, the harder it would get. 

And the bottom line is – it did help!

I’ll always be indebted to colleagues I barely knew who stepped into the gap and supported me – a broken shell of the person they thought they had employed! 

Incredibly kind people who went above and beyond to make my return to work possible. Probably covering for me time and time again as my grief fogged brain forgot things, zoned out of meetings and refused to function as it should. 

I’m so thankful that I was never made to feel judged or a burden. If I cried (which happened often) they either gave me a hug, cried with me or blessed me with the greatest gift of all – took me out for a coffee and talked about Ben. 

Over the years I’ve joined numerous online chats with other bereaved parents about when, how or if they should or even could return to work following the loss of their child. And quite frankly the jury is out as it seems there is no right or wrong way to approach this. What works for one doesn’t for another. 

But what I have seen is that not every workplace cares as much about the wellbeing of their staff as mine did. Kindness shouldn’t be optional and the welfare of a workforce should be paramount, yet for many their experience is so shockingly horrific it beggars belief! Not surprisingly many end up either on long term sick or quitting altogether. 

Grief is such a personal and individual process. We all handle it differently. There are no rights or wrongs, no time limit, no linear path and no clearly defined stages. 

Some like hugs – some don’t. Some want to talk – others can’t!  But we all crave the same vital basic components: kindness, empathy, compassion, acceptance and understanding. 

“We all share the need for our grief to be witnessed.
Not for someone to take our pain away or reframe it for us, but to simply be present in our loss without trying to point out the silver lining.”

- David Kessler
grief.com

I’m not saying going back to work was easy (it wasn’t) or took the pain away (it didn’t) but it somehow got me through those horrific early days. For months (years) I put on a coping mask, focused on the task in hand, then literally howled in the car all the way home. 

Even now there are days that for no obvious reason are heavier and harder than others. Significant dates that recur year after year and knock me for six. Triggers that spring out of nowhere and take me right back into the moment. An emptiness that nothing or no one can fill and impacts on absolutely everything.

Trying to manage this chaotic plethora of debilitating emotions in public is challenging to say the least. Quite honestly I think my work colleagues deserved a medal! 

I know I speak on behalf of fellow bereaved parents when I say it helps when people simply acknowledge our pain. Ignoring it doesn’t mean it’s not there – it’s such a misconception that people heal from loss. We might look the same on the outside but inside, to varying degrees, we’re all broken and messed up – probably hanging together by a very fragile thread. 

“Grief is so much harder than anyone tells you. It isn’t just sadness; it’s a void, an ache, an unrelenting battle with reality. It’s the endless replay of what could have been, and the cruel certainty of what will never be.”

- Jameson Arasi

About eighteen months after I returned to work my manager kindly referred me (with my permission) to our staff wellbeing programme. Following an intense assessment I was offered eight very helpful sessions of ‘traumatic grief therapy’- all organised and paid for by the organisation. This was much more practical than counselling and although it didn’t (couldn’t) fix me, was a definite turning point in my grief journey. I was introduced to strategies and coping techniques that I use to this day.

There really is no easy way to cope with the loss of a child – no getting over it and no moving on. As months and years pass we just get better at carrying (hiding) the pain. But the empty hole in our world remains constant and despite what people may think – it doesn’t shrink or magically disappear! Your child is always your child – always part of you. We will always have four children even if one no longer lives in this world. 

And now more than six years on I’m bracing myself for another significant life changing event… 

Retirement!!

Ben’s death turned my world upside down. Work helped keep it static – now I’m facing the scary prospect of letting it go. My brain is playing a weird game of snakes and ladders as conflicting emotions are oscillating between dreading and wanting it at the same time. My stomach is in knots; anxiety levels through the roof!

Apparently it’s very common for new retirees to experience mental health issues such as depression and anxiety. Some articles actually describe the change as a sense of grief or loss. Not a good idea for someone already struggling with grief and loss!

How on earth can I let go of something that has been my rock? 

I’m reminded of exciting plans my husband and I have for travelling around Europe (and maybe further) in our motorhome. The prospect of jumping in the van and taking off whenever we want, for as long as we want, without having to book annual leave sounds wonderful!

But still so many ‘what-if’s’…

Then my thoughts flit to another memory… after Ben died my daughter had the words ‘be brave’ tattooed on her wrist. It was Ben’s legacy to us. He was awesome – brave, outgoing and determined. He turned the mundane into an adventure, took risks, laughed and made every moment matter. He did way more in his 25 years than I’ve done in my 66!!

Many people say they can’t wait for retirement – they’re busy doing the sums and counting the days. But my brain is in a quandary – it’s all too complex, confusing and formidable. 

I will always be totally indebted to a workplace that supported me when my world crashed. Yet ironically after all this soul searching, the timing of retirement may not even be my decision to make – an organisational restructure seems to be taking the decision right out of my hands! 

Probably a blessing in disguise and quite honestly I’m thankfulf for it. 

I talk it through with my life coach (another fantastic service provided by my employer) and list my hopes, values and fears. With her clever sensitive prompting I manage to syphon out the positives and rationalise the negatives. 

I feel calmer, more focused and eventually come to the foregone conclusion it’s time to face the inevitable, put my big girl pants on and step out bravely into a new era – which in all honesty will probably be amazing and certainly can’t be anywhere near as bad the last one!! 

So… (watch this space) I think it could be decision made!! 

For Ben 💛

CREDIT: Ruth McDonald 

March 2025