How do you want to retire?
I want to retire without any bitterness in my bones. That’s it, really. Not with resentment curdled under my skin from all the times I swallowed my feelings, smoothed over the edges, said “it’s fine” when it absolutely wasn’t.
I want to retire with a body that’s maybe knackered but still mine, not some hunched version of myself shaped by stress and should-haves. I want to sit on a bench, sip a hot drink I didn’t have to reheat three times, and feel — just for once, like I’ve arrived somewhere.
I don’t want to be chasing my worth anymore, or proving myself, or stuck in a group chat about another whip-round for someone I’ve never met. I want quiet, and joy, and time. I want to write shit down, grow tomatoes badly, and dye my hair ridiculous colours because I’m finally old enough not to give a crap.
And I want to feel proud. Not of the job titles or the savings accounts (though let’s be honest, having enough to eat something other than beans on toast would be ideal) but proud that I didn’t disappear into everyone else’s expectations. That I clawed back bits of myself over the years and didn’t let life hollow me out.
When I retire, I want to be full. Full of stories, laughter, maybe a few regrets, but not the kind that keep you awake at night. I want to have loved well, cried properly, laughed until I pissed myself, and maybe made someone else feel like it was OK to be a bit messy too.
That’s how I want to retire. Not rich. Not perfect. Just real.
Thirty Something Plus VAT 
I’ve been retired 10 years, but the emails keep coming!
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Proof that inboxes are eternal! Hope you’ve at least mastered the art of ignoring them haha!
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Lottie,
This is everything. Absolutely everything.
“I want to retire without any bitterness in my bones” – what a way to start. It’s such a simple sentence but it carries so much weight, doesn’t it? The idea that we could actually make it through all of this without being permanently twisted by the unfairness of it all.
I love that your retirement dreams aren’t about exotic holidays or fancy houses, but about finally being able to drink a hot cup of tea without interruption. There’s something so beautifully ordinary and revolutionary about that at the same time.
The bit about not wanting to be “stuck in a group chat about another whip-round for someone I’ve never met” made me laugh out loud. It’s so specific and so painfully relatable – all those little ways we get pulled into other people’s dramas and obligations until we forget what our own life even looks like.
But what really gets me is your vision of being “full” rather than hollow. Full of stories and laughter and maybe a few regrets that don’t keep you awake at night. That feels like such a radical act of self-preservation in a world that’s constantly trying to empty us out.
And growing tomatoes badly whilst wearing ridiculous hair colours? That sounds like the most perfect kind of rebellion. The kind where you’re not proving anything to anyone – you’re just being gloriously, messily yourself.
Thank you for this reminder that retirement doesn’t have to be about what we’ve accumulated, but about what we’ve managed to keep. What we’ve refused to let them take from us.
Here’s to staying real, Lottie. Always.
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