What am I retiring from?

Retirement

the action or fact of leaving one's job and ceasing to work

I have a call with my insurance agent today to discuss how I would like to retire. It's not something I was thinking about when I initially opened my life insurance policy 20 years ago; it's simply something a friend advised me to do.

Now that my greys are showing and I grunt every time I lift my body from sitting, the world looks different. My mind wanders to the idea of homeownership. The never-ending dramatic exits I've experienced over the last 10 months have made me yearn to have a place to call my own. From a bipolar roommate to a scam artist of a landlord in Mexico City, paying a mortgage feels like a necessary evil.

My insurance agent has questions, but my answers feel taboo. Nothing about my life is traditional, yet I've managed to appear on the radar of banks for loans—a feat that I'm still coming to terms with. I'm running my online-only business while learning Spanish in Mexico City and paying taxes in Trinidad and Tobago.

Retirement benefits in Trinidad and Tobago kick in from 60, and you will qualify for contributions regardless of your job status from 65 years old. In my 20s, it felt so far away, downright impossible to reach. However, as I sit in my living room in one of the most polluted countries in the world, 65 feels like a few sleeps away. Part of me is in panic mode; the other part is proud that I reached this far with minimal family support.

Now that my timeline is more prominent, I wonder if retirement applies to me. The dictionary's definition feels far removed from my understanding of 'ceasing to work.' I've seen my grandmother lose herself when she stopped working at her job. I have friends with parents who make their lives hell because they don't have anything else to do, and I've witnessed family members searching for jobs to survive in their late 60s.

Let me preface my experience by acknowledging the privilege I've been awarded by growing up in the information age. I had the best of both worlds, knowing how to live before and after Facebook. I'm acutely aware that the previous generation laid the groundwork for what I can access.

That's why I can also change the meaning of retirement.

Last week, while searching for a triathlon club, I stumbled upon a Sprint Distance race nearby. It was hosted by a sports club a few hundred meters away from my apartment, and I decided to sign up. Although I hadn't trained in months, and my last race was almost two years ago, I pushed past fears of not finishing and took a walk to register. Two days later, I was peeling myself from the bed at 5am to push my body into a space that felt like home. It was a 800m swim in a pool, a 20km on a stationary bike and a 5km run around the compound. Although it was my first time at this location, it felt familiar. The idea of keeping my body moving feels as necessary as breathing. Similarly, the idea of stopping work altogether seems like I'm planning my funeral.

Ever since I was a child, I have loved solving problems. Mathematics was my favourite subject in primary school, and my class grew tired of my eagerness to raise my hand. As I've grown into an adult making questionable decisions, I've accepted that I like to explore new things. How else would you explain my desire to learn to swim in my early 30s, which led to my completing two Ironman 70.3 races?

Then there is the whole thing about learning Spanish in Mexico. Like, who sent me here? It's possibly the adolescent Pauline who wanted to learn how to communicate since she first landed in Venezuela at 13 years old, but the support was never there. Regardless, it's better late than never.

I'm getting to pursue a life that was never afforded to me, and retirement means saying goodbye to a world I created. As I reflect on the upcoming conversation with my agent, my soul is happy with the medal hanging from my bedroom door and the upcoming Teams call with one of my clients.