Why “Enjoy Retirement” Feels Almost Irresponsible Now
Somewhere along the way, retirement stopped feeling like a reward and started feeling like another responsibility.
I’m one of the youngest Baby Boomers, born at the end of 1964. In many ways my lived experience aligns more with Gen X, but I was raised with a more traditional Boomer retirement mindset:
Work hard.
Be responsible.
Save.
Then enjoy the reward.
As we are reminded constantly, that dream for older Boomers was made easier by pensions, lower healthcare costs and shorter life expectancy. But even though my generation had to shoulder much more responsibility ourselves, I was able to plot a course to early retirement. And now I’m here, ready to enjoy the reward. Bring on the travel, the slow mornings, the gardening, the golf, the lunches!
But now the retirement narrative has changed so drastically that it almost feels irresponsible to simply enjoy myself.
More and more those in their earlier working years, like my Gen Z son, view those traditional retirement goals as unreachable for themselves – a view I can understand, given their challenges with housing and education costs.
Much of the discussion these days about retirement seems to assume the dream I was sold is simply gone. I understand that not everyone has been able to prepare for retirement as comfortably. But I would also challenge the implication that wanting to enjoy what I worked for is somehow frivolous or irresponsible.
Ironically, even those of us who did prepare are increasingly afraid to use what we saved. A 2025 survey found that married 65-year-olds were withdrawing only about 2.1% from retirement accounts—far below the old 4% rule. We’re so afraid of running out that many of us risk never fully living the lives we prepared for.
So where does that leave us – the newly retired with sufficient balances to feel somewhat comfortable that we can fund our desired lifestyle? Stuck somewhere between conspicuous consumption and underspending out of fear – not a place I want to be.
For me, it comes down to intention and careful optimism – that means not hoarding every penny, but spending on the things that bring me joy and purpose (travel, family and social connections, giving). And at the same time, not making spending decisions based entirely on worst-case scenarios, knowing I have contingencies built into my financial plan and the skills to adjust.
At some point, retirement has to become less about optimization and more about living. Thinking about these questions helped me get some clarity:
Retirement Questions:
What did I believe retirement would feel like when I was younger?
Have my financial goals quietly turned into fear-based habits?
What experiences or pleasures am I still postponing “just in case”?
Am I trying to protect my future at the expense of enjoying my present?
What does a meaningful retirement actually look like for me—not for social media, financial experts, or younger generations?
If I trust my planning enough to retire, can I trust myself enough to live a little differently now?
I’m going to trust myself.