No Goodbye Party

~ Karin ~ Leave a comment

On October 1, 2024, I attended the goodbye party of a colleague who was also about to retire early. It was nice to see some familiar faces and chat for a bit.

Then the boss gave a speech, praising his dedication and his outstanding work. And I thought, yes, he deserves that.

And at the same time, something in me tightened.

I had asked myself before whether I would want a goodbye party like this. After more than twenty-seven years, there should be some kind of celebration, right?

But every time I thought about it, the answer was the same.

No.

Partly because of the effort and the money.

But most importantly, because I could not sit through that.

I could not sit there and listen to a speech about my career without something in me boiling over.

All of it would come back.

There had been moments in my professional path where I had felt overlooked. Contributions that mattered deeply to me had not always been acknowledged in the way I had hoped. Career structures and expectations had often felt unclear to me, and at times difficult to navigate.

There were situations I had experienced as disappointing, moments that stayed with me longer than I would have liked.

Expectations had formed in me, whether spoken or not. And when they were not met, something shifted.

And yes, eventually there was a promotion. But by then, something in me had already changed.
I had already begun to pull back and invest my energy differently.

Too late, at least for how it felt to me.

Something in me had already disengaged.

On the surface, I kept functioning. I did my job. I was polite. I was cooperative.

But underneath, there was anger. Not constant, but always there, ready to flare up the moment I touched those memories.

I tried to work through it. I really did. Forgiveness, perspective, all of it.

And I got somewhere. I made peace with the fact that my career had not unfolded the way I once imagined. I accepted my own withdrawal.

But it was not clean. Not finished.

It was still an open wound.

And I knew exactly what would happen if I sat there at my own goodbye party, listening to a carefully worded speech about my contributions.

He would say something nice.

And inside, I would react to everything that was not said.

That gap would be unbearable.

So no.

No goodbye party.

I will meet a few colleagues, have some quiet conversations, say my goodbyes in my own way.

But I will not sit there and pretend that this story has a neat and celebratory ending.

***

This post is part of a blog series about my transition into early retirement. You can find the table of contents, with links to each chapter, here.

Knee Issues

~ Karin ~ Leave a comment

I noticed something curious during this phase of my life: knee issues in connection with retirement.

After my accident, I was resting and giving my wrist time to heal. But around September 20, 2024, I began to notice that my right knee was getting worse.

That was a problem. My left knee had already been in poor condition since the COVID-19 vaccination in the summer of 2021, and I had been wearing a knee brace. Now my right knee also became so painful that I needed a second brace. Getting up from a seated position with both knees affected was difficult and frustrating.

At first, I assumed it might be related to the fall. Perhaps the bike had landed in a way that caused the pain.

But then I remembered two other people who had developed knee issues shortly after retiring. In one case, the knee improved after six months of medication.

Was there a connection between stepping away from work and knee problems?

One possible explanation is reduced movement. Perhaps people become less active after retirement, which can lead to stiffness and pain.

But in my case, the pain in my right knee began even before I had officially retired, although it was around the time I signed the contract. And it would last for about a year.

At the time, I could not make sense of it.

Only much later, about a year and a half after the fall, when I started exploring astrology, I came across the idea that the tenth house, associated with career, is linked to the knees. I found that intriguing. Perhaps there was a symbolic connection after all.

I could not prove any of this. It may have been purely physical. Or partly behavioral. Or something more subtle.

Either way, from that point on, I tried to avoid biking to work. Fortunately, I found alternatives. Sometimes neighbors gave me a ride, and at other times I worked from home more than usual.

Whether physical, symbolic, or both, it felt as if my body was reacting to the transition before it had fully happened.

***

This post is part of a blog series about my transition into early retirement. You can find the table of contents, with links to each chapter, here.

Turning in the Contract

~ Karin ~ Leave a comment

After the accident, I had to rest. I was still wondering why the fall had happened.

At the same time, I could not help but notice, with some awe, how well the events seemed to be orchestrated. I was unable to type, which meant I should not have been able to release my weekly blog posts. But by chance, I had already written and scheduled posts through September 19, 2024. I had done this to create some free time for editing the book about my spiritual journey. Apparently, life had other plans. No editing, just rest.

On the evening of September 5, 2024, three days after the accident, I was lying on the sofa, enjoying the rare excuse to do nothing, when my husband suddenly felt inspired to check the mailbox again, even though he had probably already checked it earlier that day.

I had an inkling. What if the contract had arrived?

A moment later, he came back holding a large envelope.

“Honey, I have something for you.”

Indeed, it was the contract.

Yay!

Three days later, I signed it. Now I needed to return it to my employer. I did not want to send it by mail. What if it got lost in transit? Instead, we could deliver it in person, but only on certain weekdays. So, on September 10, 2024, despite my injured wrist, I biked to the office building to hand it over.

Several people were already waiting in line outside the office that handled the early retirement paperwork. One by one, we entered.

When one person came out of the office, I applauded. Congratulations on such a big step.

Then it was my turn.

Inside, the employee receiving the contracts was not sitting behind a desk but standing beside a small table. I placed my signed contract on it.

He looked at me and asked, “So, you want to retire? When I touch the contract with my hand, it becomes official.”

“Yes,” I said. “Go ahead.”

He touched the contract.

Now it was official. I was going into early retirement.

Then I joked that the moment deserved a bit more ceremony. Where were the flowers, the candles, and the music?

That afternoon, my older son baked a cake for us, a Turkish semolina cake with cherries. I am sure he did not bake it specifically because I had turned in the contract. It was simply one of those cakes that appear at meaningful moments, as if orchestrated by the universe.

That evening, as usual, I cut one centimeter from my measuring tape. We had started this ritual weeks earlier, marking each day that brought us closer to the end of the year.

I looked at the remaining length.

112 centimeters.

In Germany, 112 is the emergency phone number of the fire department.

Fire.

FIRE. Financial Independence, Retire Early.

How fitting, exactly on the day I turned in the retirement contract.

***

This post is part of a blog series about my transition into early retirement. You can find the table of contents, with links to each chapter, here.

Prescribed Rest

~ Karin ~ Leave a comment

On September 2, 2024, I rode my bike home from work. Along the way, I passed a bench in the woods, bathed in the evening sun. I felt exhausted and got off my bike to sit down and rest. That was unusual for me. Normally, I would complete the forty-five-minute ride without stopping. But that day I was so drained that I needed a break. I sat there for a few minutes, soaking in the warmth, feeling deeply grateful that the ordeal of work would soon be over.

When I stood up and tried to get back on my bike, the gravel on the path made it difficult to gain enough initial speed. The bike tipped slowly and fell, pinning me underneath just as I tried to mount it.

I was in pain and shaking from the shock. I do not know where I found the strength to get up from the ground. With my rheumatoid arthritis, that is usually difficult for me.

I pulled a Band-Aid from my waist pack and covered a wound on my hand. Then I carefully mounted the bike again, determined not to fall a second time, and rode the rest of the way home.

Over the next few days, my wrist became increasingly sore. I used protective wrist guards from my inline skates to stabilize it and continued working from home.

During a call with my boss, I mentioned the accident. He told me that because it had happened on my commute, it counted as work-related and therefore fell under a special insurance category. I needed to see a doctor to make sure nothing was broken.

Oh no!

A work-related accident meant I had to see a designated physician in the next town. But how was I supposed to get there if I could not ride my bike with this wrist?

Eventually, I surrendered. My husband would have to drive me.

Long story short, it took several visits to two different doctors over the course of three weeks to confirm that nothing was broken. In the process, I ended up on sick leave for that entire period.

I complained to my guides about the inconvenience. Had I not already carried enough? More doctor’s appointments and added pain on top of my rheumatoid arthritis felt deeply unfair. They responded, calmly as ever, that everything was for my highest good. Perhaps they were right. The year had been intense. The busyness surrounding the early retirement program, combined with the stressful administrative work for a family member and the absence of a real summer vacation, had left me depleted. I needed rest.

I appreciated the way my guides seemed to care for me.

I just wished that prescribed rest did not have to hurt quite so much.

***

This post is part of a blog series about my transition into early retirement. You can find the table of contents, with links to each chapter, here.

The Golden Cage

~ Karin ~ 4 Comments

On August 22, 2024, I wrote a journal entry that I am sharing here in a translated and edited version because it vividly captures my state of mind at the time.

Office day.

A tedious team meeting. Product strategy and other topics. I had nothing to contribute. I mentally checked out. I did not want to engage with any of it anymore.

It is astonishing how long fifty minutes can feel.

The meeting room was unusually nice. Third floor. Large wooden table. Decent chairs. Elegant. And yet it felt like a golden cage.

I want out, I thought. I do not want this anymore.

Afterward, I went to the restroom. On the wall, there was a large quote: Change is good. It brings you to a new place.

It felt like an answer to my silent cry.

The company is a golden cage. Everything is provided. Everything is polished. But inwardly, I am no longer connected to the work with any real passion.

It was cold in the office again that day. I sat there wearing two jackets and a scarf. Outside, it was probably warmer.

In some strange way, I never truly fit here.

I got the job because I could program and enjoyed doing it. And because I had good grades. It was probably part of my life path that I would start here. That I would meet my husband. That all of this would unfold as it did. It feels orchestrated in hindsight.

But I took the job for practical reasons. A more secure income than an academic career. A more relaxed lifestyle.

Although, if I am honest, becoming a university professor would not have made me happy either.

Back then, at the university, my real passion was understanding the world. I even took additional courses in physics. I wanted to understand reality through science.

I did not want to sell products to people.

When I first started at the company, I remember thinking how dull the products seemed. I had no desire to master the details and technical features of something entirely human-made. These were not eternal truths. They were engineered solutions.

What I had wanted to study were the things that bend the mind. Quantum mechanics. Relativity. Optical illusions. That sense of “You see? You would never have guessed.”

I loved discoveries that revealed the world to be fundamentally different from what it appeared to be.

I was an enthusiastic collector of surprising insights.

And in many ways, I still am.

I read about near-death experiences and out-of-body experiences. I read accounts of life-between-lives planning sessions. I am drawn to anything that hints at the invisible behind the visible. Anything that gestures toward enduring spiritual laws. Lessons. Teachings.

Not rigid religious dogma. But lived experience.

Observing. Writing. Sharing. That gave me something. That gave me fulfillment.

Seen from that perspective, it only makes sense that I should now continue working on my book about my spiritual journey.

Even if I struggle with the editing process.

Even if it feels tedious at times.

I have to move through it.

Because that is what I truly want to be doing.

***

This post is part of a blog series about my transition into early retirement. You can find the table of contents, with links to each chapter, here.

Fly Free

~ Karin ~ Leave a comment

On August 4, 2024, there were 150 calendar days left until the end of the year. Even though we had not yet signed the contracts, my husband and I decided to begin cutting our soft tape measures. One centimeter each evening. Each time, we would pause and admire how the tape grew shorter. The ritual felt childlike and enjoyable, a small daily celebration of what was coming.

On August 20, I had my final call with the woman from the external consultancy. We reviewed all the numbers once more. Everything was now correct.

Then the conversation shifted unexpectedly into something warm and personal. She told me she was pregnant with her first child and about to begin a new chapter in her life. I shared that I had children as well. She asked, “Boys or girls?”

“I have two boys.” I paused. “But one came out as trans during puberty.”

That opened a deeper exchange about what the transition had been like for me emotionally and how intense and stressful that period had been.

“Enjoy your life in retirement,” she said.

“Thank you. I will. And I deserve it. It has been a very stressful time.”

That evening, I sent the email asking her to trigger the preparation of the contract.

After that, something odd began to happen. There was always a fly at the window in whichever room I entered. Not the small houseflies, but the larger ones that buzz loudly and persistently. Instead of chasing them, I opened the window and let each one out.

But as soon as I did, another would appear. Just one. After I released that one, the next would come. It was peculiar.

Years ago, I had read a story about a guru merging his consciousness with a fly and observing a student through the fly’s eyes. The memory surfaced unexpectedly. What was going on here? Was this connected to the date, to the fact that I had just set the contract in motion? Was I being watched?

The flies were still there the next day.

Then a blog post by Wendy appeared in my WordPress feed. She described a dream in which a hummingbird had accidentally become trapped inside her house and was eventually freed. The story ended with the words “Fly free.”

Maybe that was the message. Fly free.

***

This post is part of a blog series about my transition into early retirement. You can find the table of contents, with links to each chapter, here.

The Anniversary Cake

~ Karin ~ 7 Comments

“Let’s buy fresh strawberries,” my husband said, looking at the produce section in the grocery store. “I want to finally bake that cake.”

He had bought a package of strawberry cake mix a while ago. It must have been sitting in the pantry for several months. On July 31, 2024, we did our usual weekly grocery shopping together.

It was a Wednesday, still a few days away from the weekend. Nevertheless, he suddenly felt inspired to buy fresh strawberries for the cake.

The decision came quickly, and we were unprepared. What did the package say about the other ingredients? Since it was at home, we could not check and had to guess. Probably cream and quark, a soft, fresh cheese, at the very least. So we bought those too.

The next day, Thursday, I went to the office. When I came home that evening, my husband had prepared the strawberry cake, and I enjoyed a generous slice for dinner. Fresh strawberries folded into the creamy quark mixture, topped with white chocolate sprinkles. It was a feast.

What was so special about that?

It was my twenty-seventh work anniversary. And it seemed I was meant to celebrate it.

I had already celebrated privately, like a party in my mind, with my guides singing to me. “Let’s celebrate. You did it. You persevered.” Thinking back on all the wonderful and stressful times, I felt the congratulations were well earned. But it seemed I was meant to celebrate with my family as well.

The thing is, my husband was not aware that it was my anniversary. He did not bake the cake for me. He simply felt compelled, by something invisible, to buy strawberries and bake a cake on a random Thursday evening.

It reminded me of the story about the lost keys, when he suddenly felt the urge to walk into town and ended up meeting us there, even though he had just returned from a run and had not even showered yet.

I am always in awe when these things happen.

***

This post is part of a blog series about my transition into early retirement. You can find the table of contents, with links to each chapter, here.

Dream: Biting Tortoise

~ Karin ~ Leave a comment

After signing up and being accepted into the early retirement program, things should have become easier. Instead, there was trouble ahead.

We had several in-depth consultation meetings with an external provider to clarify the exact parameters of the early retirement contract. How many vacation days had we saved? How much did we want to pay into our time account until the end of 2024? How much did we want to reduce our salary during the retirement phase? If one took less money per month, the severance package would last longer.

I intended to stretch the severance pay to the maximum. Therefore, I chose the minimum allowed part-time percentage.

I realized that going from seventy to eighty percent part-time as of June 2024 was not going to give me the intended result of closing the gap to the official retirement age. To the contrary, unfortunately, it widened the gap because the allowed retirement percentage depended on an average percentage of work during the last twelve months before retirement. Since my average work percentage before retirement was now higher, it also had to be higher during the retirement phase. Which meant the severance pay would not last as long.

But that wasn’t the only issue. In addition, in my case, the part-time percentage for the retirement phase was not calculated accurately. Because I had increased my workload from 70 percent to 80 percent part-time as of June 2024, the calculation became more complex.

Too complex, it seemed, for HR.

As a result, the gap between the end of the severance pay and the start of my pension became even larger, which would have meant starting my pension much earlier than planned.

If necessary, I could start my pension before age sixty-seven, but that would require additional pension reductions. Financially, that can make sense in cases of lower life expectancy. However, if one lives longer, it is more beneficial to start the pension as late as possible and without reductions.

I do not know how long I will live.

But I aimed for a later pension with no reductions. That felt like the safer option for me.

What followed were endless support tickets in an attempt to get HR and the consulting firm to calculate the numbers correctly. It did not work. HR referred me to the consultancy. The consultancy referred me back to HR.

After several rounds of battle, I was ready to give up.

So what if the gap to my pension were larger? So what if I had to accept additional reductions? Maybe I would not live long enough for it to matter. Was it really worth this endless fight?

Then, on July 24, 2024, I had a dream.

I was walking along a path when I suddenly noticed a tortoise behind me. Not slow, as tortoises usually are. It moved with surprising speed and determination. It was coming straight at me.

I tried to walk faster, but I could not escape.

Then it lunged and tried to bite me. Not just once, but several times.

I felt baffled. And annoyed. Why would it not stop?

When I woke up, I reflected on the symbolism. A tortoise often represents longevity. Perhaps longevity would bite me if I did not put more effort into resolving the HR issue.

All right. One more round.

This time, instead of creating another HR ticket, I wrote a detailed email outlining the issue and its long history.

And, lo and behold, I received a response. The issue was corrected. I was able to reduce the monthly payout and keep the gap until my pension age minimal.

Now it was finally time to relax.

***

This post is part of a blog series about my transition into early retirement. You can find the table of contents, with links to each chapter, here.

Freedom Starter

~ Karin ~ Leave a comment

By the end of April 2024, the exact conditions for the voluntary early retirement program were released. After three long months of anxious waiting, we finally had clarity about the severance package. Compared to the previous program, the conditions were a bit disappointing, but overall the severance pay was still good enough. We let out a huge sigh of relief.

At the beginning of May, we signed up and waited to see whether we would be accepted.

In mid-May, I had one of my monthly one-on-one talks with my boss. Toward the end of the meeting, he said that for planning purposes they would like to know how many people intended to retire early this year. He asked me whether I had signed up and how likely it was that I would accept an offer if I received one. At that point, I did not yet know whether my husband or I would be accepted.

I could have kept this to myself and told him much later, maybe in the fall of 2024. But I understood his perspective. If a quarter of the staff was about to leave in a business-critical environment and he needed to hire and train successors, it made sense to start early.

So I disclosed my decision.

“Yes, I have signed up. And if I get an offer, the probability that I will leave is very high.”

Phew. I said it.

What if I did not get an offer, and now my boss knew about my plans to leave? How would this affect our future work relationship?

Never mind. The relationship had already been damaged earlier by my anger and my subsequent withdrawal after not receiving enough appreciation for my work. It probably could not become worse than it already was.

Now that I had disclosed this, I asked him for a favor. Because there would be a gap between the end of the severance payments and the start of my pension, I wanted to increase my part-time percentage from seventy to eighty percent for the rest of the year. Would that be feasible? I figured this would allow me to pay more into my time account and get closer to my pension age.

Fortunately, he agreed and triggered the process immediately. I started working eighty percent as of June.

As it would turn out later, this decision was a mixed bag and caused a few hiccups further down the retirement process.

The next four weeks were waiting time again. Waiting to see whether we would be accepted.

After weeks of intense reading and deep dives into pension and tax-related material, I was exhausted and could have used a break. But the universe did not grant me one. On May 17, 2024, I was suddenly confronted with a large amount of work at home, helping a family member with administrative matters. It was a period of high pressure, high intensity, and high adrenaline for me. Four weeks later, everything was finally resolved. I felt immense relief, but I was also completely drained and close to burnout.

On June 19, 2024, we were informed that we had been accepted into the program. Yay. Time for sparkling wine.

On June 24, 2024, I completed a particular quality check at work. It was a task I had to perform only once a year, and I hated it. That day, however, it was the last time I would ever have to do it. When it finished without errors, I felt relieved and went out for lunch.

After lunch, on my way back to the office, I noticed two people walking ahead of me in T-shirts. The one on the left read Freedom. The one on the right read Starter. Together, they said Freedom Starter.

Later, sitting at my desk with a cup of tea and scrolling through my blog feed, I noticed two posts with the word freedom in the title. One was called “Opening Your Freedom Gates.” The other was “Heralds of Freedom.”

Yes. Freedom was the right message for that day.

Another Word for Retirement

In online discussions, I read people asking for a better word for retirement. They did not like the word. It sounded too passive. Too much like withdrawal and disengagement. Was there not a better option?

Someone responded that we should follow Spain’s example. There, retirement is called jubilación, which sounds more like jubilate, to shout with joy.

When I told the Asian man I encountered at the glider field in April 2024 that I would retire soon, he said, “Then you start your peace-life.” Peace felt like a fitting option too.

Or freedom, like in today’s messages from the universe.

Joy, peace, freedom. I was looking forward to all of it.

***

This post is part of a blog series about my transition into early retirement. You can find the table of contents, with links to each chapter, here.

An Encounter at the Glider Field

~ Karin ~ 3 Comments

On April 11, 2024, as I walked through the peaceful fields and meadows in the soft evening sun, I came across a young Asian man standing beside his bicycle. He kept looking from his phone to the fields and back again.

“Can I ask you something?”

I nodded.

“Airport?” He gestured toward the green meadows with a puzzled look.

“Oh yes, that is an airport,” I said, smiling.

The fields, bathed in the warm evening light, looked almost unreal, like a landscape from a Jane Austen film.

“It doesn’t look like one,” I added. “But it is not for large airplanes, only for gliders.”

He still looked unsure.

“See the two barriers over there? In between them is the runway.”

“Ah, I see.”

That seemed to settle it.

We started walking together. In halting English, he told me he was from China and was doing an internship here. To my surprise, it was at the same company where I worked. After finishing his degree, he would start there as a regular employee.

“Congratulations,” I said. “It is a good employer.”

He asked about life in Germany, and I asked about China. We compared work cultures. Then we reached my house and stopped.

Before we said goodbye, he asked, “How long do people have to work in your country?”

“That depends,” I said. “Usually until age sixty-seven, or until sixty-three if they retire earlier with a reduction in their pension.”

Then I added, “I am fifty-five, and I will retire at the end of this year through a voluntary early retirement program.”

There. I had said it. To a stranger. Even though the final conditions had not yet been released and I did not know whether I would be accepted.

[Edit, February 4, 2026, after reviewing my journal entries] He responded, “Then you start your peace-life.”

We said goodbye, and I stood there for a moment, thinking. The whole encounter felt strangely orchestrated. He was about to begin his career at the same company I was preparing to leave. It felt symbolic, as if I were handing over a baton, even though we would never work in the same department.

[Edit, February 4, 2026, after reviewing my journal entries] Something else that felt noteworthy was the handshake at the end. Right after we shook hands, I had an acute, painful flare-up of my rheumatoid arthritis in my right wrist. I could not make sense of it. It was as if something energetic had happened that evening. The experience felt as mysterious as the encounter itself.

***

This post is part of a blog series about my transition into early retirement. You can find the table of contents, with links to each chapter, here.