About Me

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 I didn’t plan to retire when I did.

I was doing what a lot of women do—holding everything together.

Middle management job. Long-term boyfriend. Aging parents. A grown child. A Boxer dog who thought she was the real boss of the house.

Then my mom got sick. What we thought was a pulled muscle turned out to be pancreatic cancer. One call flipped everything. I packed my bags, loaded my dog into the car, and drove four hours to be with her. I was working remote then, so I thought I could manage it all—caregiving, spreadsheets, grief, pretending everything was fine.

Spoiler: I couldn’t.

The medical system was a maze. Every day brought new symptoms, new appointments, new crises. My mom and I weren’t the “talk-about-your-feelings” type, but we found our own way through it—messy, imperfect, real.

And while I was trying to keep her alive, my company decided to reorganize. They eliminated my position. Handed me a certificate for 25 years of dedication the same week they walked me out, signed by the person who eliminated my position. Offered me an NDA for a few extra weeks of health insurance—as if my silence could be bought that cheap. I didn’t take it. My story is worth more.

So I retired. Not because I planned to—but because life demanded it.

And honestly? That was the gift I didn’t know I needed.

I got to spend my mom’s final year with her. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t peaceful. But it was honest. She passed in May of 2023, and I was with her at the end. That part? I’ll always be proud of.

Since then, life’s kept throwing curveballs. I’ve been diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes, alpha-gal allergy (yes, I’m now allergic to most meat and mammal byproducts, fun), other random food allergies, reduced kidney function—and oh yeah, I lost my dad too. Because apparently, grief doesn’t believe in pacing itself.

But here’s what I’ve realized:

I’m still here.

And I’m done putting up with the performance, the perfectionism, and the pressure to make it all look easy.

This blog? It’s my space to figure out who I am now.

What midlife really looks like.

How you rebuild a life after the scaffolding falls apart.

How you reclaim joy, even when your body is tired and your heart’s cracked wide open.

I write about life after retirement, grief, intentional living, aging, pleasure, health, rebellion, and whatever else I’m untangling at 2am. If you’re looking for sugar-coated inspiration, this isn’t it. But if you want something real? Something a little raw, a little wild, and deeply human? You’re in the right place.

Strap in. It’s going to be a hell of a ride.

~ Cindy

Serendipitous Retirement