Is This Retirement?

In March 2019, I retired from my position as the Clinical Director of Hazelden-Betty Ford's Chicago facility. I moved cautiously in making this decision because I did not want to be one of those who wake up on their first Monday without work and be clueless about what to do. Because I am a planner, I listed all of the activities I wanted to do regularly per week. Work out five times per week. Read more books. Learn to play the guitar. Journal at least three times per week. Connect with friends. I even created a grid to monitor my work on striving for these goals.

Then, I shared my plan in my men's group. As I spoke, I saw how silly my obsessive plan was and laughed at myself. Someone in group kindly said, "I know you had a successful career. It seems like you want a successful retirement."

The comment stayed with me for several days. It was close to what I was experiencing, but not quite on the mark. Then I changed the word "successful" to "meaningful," and something clicked inside me. A new path opened into my retirement and with a new question to ponder, "What is meaningful to me as I live the final chapters of my story?"

For nearly a year, I stuck by my original plan because I did not have another one. I worked out, read, took guitar lessons, journaled, and scheduled lunches with friends. Then, COVID hit, and shelter-in-place ended the guitar lessons and the lunches with friends. As the saying goes, "Man plans, God laughs.

In September 2020, my wife and I moved to Wisconsin, which increased my isolation, especially when winter rolled into town. Taking long walks in sub-zero, wind-chill factors was not appealing, so most of those months were spent reading, journaling, and practicing yoga. I called it my "winter in exile." Zoom meetings became my primary source of connection with friends, not quite as satisfying as in-person, yet better than nothing.

With the coming spring and a vaccine, I eventually escaped my exile. Home improvements replaced guitar lessons, which made sense because I was not on my way to becoming the next Carlos Santana. Journaling was supplemented with creative writing. Although I am also no Ernest Hemingway, I always dreamt of writing a novel, and I could no longer make the excuse that I did not have enough free time to do it.

What followed was three years of writing and rewriting. Recalling my professional career and the many individuals and family members who stumbled through the early months of recovery from substance use disorders or codependency, I found myself getting to know their fictionalized replicas and wanting others to get to know them, too. Maybe this is the meaningful retirement I seek.

In August 2025, The Next Best Time was published by Amazon, and another turn in my path appeared. I was told if I want to be a serious writer, I need a website. Also, if I want people to read my website and buy my book, I need to be visible in the treatment and recovery profession. So, I decided to present a workshop and to purchase an exhibitor's table at this month's ICB Spring Conference. Dressed in a nice suit and handing out new business cards, I felt comfortable in my old work identity. I loved the energy from seeing old friends and making new ones, The workshop drew a supportive, rocking crowd of 116 participants, plus I sold and autographed twenty books.

Two weeks later, I am home in Waukesha with fond memories of the conference. A question lingers, "Is this my meaningful retirement or Bob Carty 2.0?" Maybe the more things change, the more they remain the same.