In September 25, 2023, as I walked around the fields, I saw a woman wearing a T-shirt that read, “Good things will happen.”

I remember wondering what that meant. I had never seen that phrase on a shirt before.

A few days after the T-shirt sighting, I started getting frequent spam emails about winning the lottery. Each morning, I’d review the spam report from my mail provider, and there were always several messages about lottery participation or wins. And I don’t play the lottery.

I’ve noticed this pattern before. How my guidance sometimes makes use of spam mail titles to send signals.

In hindsight, I think this was pointing to the early retirement program ahead. But at the time, I had no idea what was in store for us.

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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.

Looking back through my old journals, I tried to connect the dots in retrospect. Which signs and synchronicities had pointed to this shift? It turned out there were actually quite a few that, in hindsight, could be interpreted as pointing toward the early retirement program. But at the time, of course, I had no idea what they meant.

At first, the theme of gold showed up frequently. In May 2021, I was assigned to a recurring task at work that included the word gold in its name, and it remained part of my responsibilities until the end of my job.

In January 2023, my husband ordered a set of speakers, and the company sent a golden tote bag with it. In May 2023, he brought home a small card game box labeled GOLD.

In the fall of 2023, I was told that golden milk might help with my rheumatoid arthritis. In December 2023, I happened to get one of the few gold-wrapped filled chocolates from my husband’s advent calendar. When I bought a small pocket calendar for 2024, I chose the color gold.

And in January 2024, just after the announcement of an early retirement program—but before we understood that we might be eligible—I sat on a bench by the fields, angry about work. I had been forced to attend a workshop on my free Tuesday afternoon and was fed up with being ordered around. As I sat there, silently fuming, a woman in a golden jacket came up to me and said how nice the weather was and how good it felt to sit in the sun.

I wondered what the message was. Maybe it was just a quiet nod that I was on the right path with my blogging projects. Or maybe it pointed to a shift into golden times that were ahead.

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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.

While I was disengaged but still okay at work, the offer for an early retirement program came.

I live in Germany, where workers’ rights are strong. If a company wants to reduce staff, it usually has to provide some financial enticements.

The timeline for this retirement program was not rushed. We had plenty of time to consider whether we could afford to take the offer. Here’s a brief overview of the milestones:

• The announcement of the early retirement program came in early 2024. At first, the conditions were unclear, so my husband and I didn’t realize it might apply to us.
• By the end of February, it sank in that we might actually be eligible.
• In late spring of 2024, when the final conditions were announced, we applied and were accepted.
• In the fall of 2024, after several rounds of consultation and refinement, we signed the final contracts.
• Just before Christmas 2024, I had my last day at work.

The whole process stretched out over many months. There was no pressure to make a decision quickly, which gave us time to weigh everything carefully.

The early retirement contracts guaranteed reduced monthly pay for several years, until we would reach retirement age (somewhere between sixty-three and sixty-seven), when the state pension would begin.

Busy

Throughout 2024, we were busy trying to figure out whether and how we could make this transition. From February through May, once we realized we might be eligible, I took a crash course in personal finance. How did our various pension insurance plans work? How much would we owe in taxes and health insurance? How much money would we need versus how much income would we actually receive? In the evenings, I lay on the sofa, trying to force my brain to grasp the legal lingo of the different pension schemes. Dry and boring stuff I normally avoid, but it had to be done on top of my regular job.

Then, a family member needed sudden and urgent help with administrative matters. That meant four more weeks of heavy workload and stress. I persevered and was able to help, but it took a toll.

By then, I felt completely drained, as if I were on the edge of burnout. All I wanted was to sit outside on a bench and stare at the clouds for hours. It had just been too much.

As it turned out, the three-month crash course in finances wasn’t the end of it. We also had to deal with an IT migration project. In the spring of 2025, we had to return all company-owned hardware. That meant buying and setting up our own new hardware, plus disentangling ourselves from a company we had worked at for over twenty-seven years. That process alone took several more months.

And of course, there were also plenty of handover sessions with a colleague at work.

Emotional Rollercoaster

Emotionally, 2025 was a rollercoaster.

Even before the final retirement conditions were released, once we realized we might be eligible, I felt euphoric. Drunk with joy. I was still going to work, and I had no idea whether I’d even be accepted, but I was already elated by the possibility of not having to sit through boring meetings or handle tedious tasks. Inside, I was dancing. Walking on clouds. In that state of mind, it was hard to focus on the legal and financial paperwork.

That initial high felt amazing, but also a bit surreal. Like joy had knocked logic out of the way. It lasted about six weeks before cooling off.

There were also moments of doubt. Would we really be able to afford it?

Then came overwhelm. Between the crash course in pensions and taxes and the four weeks helping my family member, I felt like I was running on fumes.

By the fall of 2025, my tolerance for corporate life dropped rapidly. Things I had once brushed off now felt unbearable. I even made a list of things I was looking forward to leaving behind: endless meetings, performance feedback talks, mandatory trainings, the noisy office, and more.

I also began to wonder how retirement would feel. What challenges might arise in this new phase of life? What had others experienced? I turned to YouTube videos and browsed online forums and subreddits, trying to get a clearer sense of what to expect. Common recommendations included going to the gym regularly, playing pickleball to stay social, or taking up volunteer work to maintain a sense of purpose. I wasn’t sure any of that would appeal to me.

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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.