Why open-minded leadership matters

Most organizations say they want innovation, collaboration, and adaptability. Of course they do. But those qualities do not grow easily when leaders already have the answer, protect the familiar, or reward only the people who think like they do. Open-minded leadership makes room for better questions. It widens the conversation. It helps people pause before assumptions turn into habits.

Modeling the way

One of the strongest leadership development tools is not a program or a framework. It is the leader’s behavior. People notice what you listen to. They notice what you dismiss. They notice who gets invited into the room and how mistakes are handled. When a leader says, “What am I missing?” or “Help me see this another way,” something shifts. Curiosity becomes safer. Humility becomes stronger. Authority does not disappear. It becomes more trusted.

Bake it into succession planning

Succession planning is not simply naming who comes next. It is helping future leaders build the judgment they will need when the map changes. So, look beyond technical skill. Ask different questions. Does this person seek out views that challenge their own? Can they change course when new information appears? Do they develop people who are different from themselves? Are they willing to learn in public?

If you want to transfer impact, give emerging leaders places to practice before the stakes are too high. Invite potential successors into strategic conversations early. Ask them to bring you another scenario. Let them lead a pilot. Let them debrief a setback. Let them question a process that has been around for years. Then watch closely. Not just for the right answer, but for how they think, listen, adjust, and bring others along.

Future-focused succession strategies help organizations build stronger talent pipelines. But the human side matters just as much. If current leaders model closed-minded certainty, successors learn to protect image over insight. If current leaders model curiosity, candor, and learning, successors learn something better. They learn that strong leadership includes the courage to evolve.

Key leadership points

• Open-minded leadership creates the conditions for innovation, collaboration, and adaptability.

• Leaders model the way through curiosity, humility, and the willingness to ask better questions.

• Succession planning should develop employee judgment and mindset and go well beyond technical capability.

• Safe sandboxes give emerging talent room to practice ownership, test ideas, and learn from manageable mistakes.

• A leader’s legacy grows when future leaders learn to listen, adjust, and evolve.

Ask yourself a few honest questions

• What leadership behavior are others learning from you right now?

• Where could you make more room for a different voice, a better question, or a next generation leader’s experiment?

• And what if your openness became more than a practice? What if it became a defining strength of your executive brand?

An open mind does more than expand your own life. Practiced consistently, it becomes part of your leadership legacy others carry forward.

Carol Bergeron – Drawing on 25+ years as coach, consultant, and author, Carol Bergeron helps leaders unlock their legacy through executive branding, succession planning, and retirement life design.

© Copyright 2026 Bergeron Associates. All rights reserved. The content contained herein is provided for informational purposes only.

EXPLORE OUR PROGRAMS: https://UnlockYourLegacy.substack.com/p/programs

An open mind leads to new ideas, a wider range of perspectives, openness to different norms, and greater tolerance of people whose views or life experiences differ from our own. Research on intellectual humility describes this capacity as recognizing the limits of what we know and staying willing to revise our beliefs when new evidence or experience asks us to do so.

That matters in every life stage, but especially during transition. When we step up, step back, or step away from a familiar role, a closed mind tries to protect the old identity. An open mind creates room to ask: What else might be true? What else might be possible? What can I learn from this person, place, mistake, or experiment?

For example, I recently started watercolor painting again. I had taken classes years ago, but now I can learn new techniques in three-minute videos. Some of those methods reinforce what I learned before; others contradict it. That is the stretch and it’s fun and convenient! Opening your mind often means allowing something new to sit beside what you already “know” long enough to see whether it expands your range.

Relevant Research: Why Open-Mindedness Matters

Research backs up what many of us know from experience: an open mind helps us learn, adapt, and connect. Studies on intellectual humility suggest that people who can admit they may not know everything tend to make better judgments and have stronger relationships.

Open-mindedness also supports mental flexibility. That means being able to shift gears, see another point of view, and adjust when life changes. This kind of flexibility matters at work, in relationships, and during major life transitions.

Curiosity may also help keep the mind active as we age. Research on older adults has linked openness and a wider range of activities with stronger thinking skills over time.

And the good news is simple: it is never too late to learn. Taking a class, trying a new skill, joining a group, or exploring a fresh idea can support confidence, connection, and a more engaged life.

More Ways to Open Your Mind

• Travel with curiosity, not comparison. Notice how people eat, greet, work, rest, celebrate, and solve problems. Instead of deciding whether it is “better” or “worse,” ask what the different practice makes possible.

• Read outside your usual lanes. If you prefer memoirs, try science fiction. If you read business books, try poetry. If you follow one news source, read a thoughtful opposing perspective and look for what you can learn.

• Ask better questions. Try “What led you to that view?” “What am I missing?” or “How would I see this if I were in your position?” Good questions loosen certainty without requiring you to abandon discernment.

• Practice beginner’s mind. Take a drawing class, learn a language, try a new sport, use a new app, study genealogy, join a choir, or watch tutorials on a skill you once thought was too late to begin.

• Seek intergenerational conversations. Ask someone younger what they are noticing about work, technology, identity, or culture. Ask someone older what changed their mind over the years. Both directions can expand perspective.

• Experiment before deciding. If a new possibility interests you, test it for 30 days. Volunteer once. Attend one class. Shadow someone. Take one lesson. The goal is not instant commitment; it is information.

• Notice your defensiveness. A tight jaw, quick rebuttal, or impulse to dismiss may be a signal that your mind is protecting an old assumption. Pause and ask, “What part of this feels threatening, and why?”

• Change your environment. Visit a museum, take a different walking route, attend a cultural event, sit in on a public lecture, or explore a neighborhood you rarely visit. Novelty wakes up attention.

The Value of Opening Your Mind

Opening your mind does not mean accepting every idea or abandoning your values. It means staying flexible enough to update your thinking, humble enough to admit what you do not yet know, and courageous enough to keep learning in public. That combination is powerful in transition because transition almost always asks us to release an old answer before the new one is fully formed.

For leaders, open-mindedness can improve decision-making because it invites dissenting views before decisions harden. For succession planning, it helps seasoned leaders see emerging talent as different rather than deficient. For retirement life design, it turns the next chapter from a fixed plan into a living experiment.

Perhaps most importantly, an open mind keeps us in relationship with possibility. It helps us stay curious instead of certain, engaged instead of withdrawn, and willing to be surprised by what life still has to teach us.

Call to Action

What have you found that opens your mind? A conversation, a class, a trip, a book, a mistake, or a small experiment? I would love to hear what has helped you see differently.

Sources to Explore

• Porter, T., et al. (2022). “Predictors and consequences of intellectual humility.” Nature Reviews Psychology.

• Jackson, J. J., et al. (2019). “Linking openness to cognitive ability in older adulthood.” Aging & Mental Health.

• American Psychological Association. (2026). “How learning protects the aging brain.” Monitor on Psychology.

That finding matters because it challenges one of the quiet assumptions many of us carry into adulthood: that brain aging is simply a long, unavoidable slide. The study suggests something more nuanced and more hopeful. Our brains change in chapters. Each chapter has strengths, vulnerabilities, and clues about how to support brain health with greater intention.

I am not a medical professional, and this article is not medical advice. My lens is life design, transition, and intentional action. From that perspective, the study offers a powerful invitation: what if we treat brain health not only as a medical topic, but also as a daily practice of living forward?

The Five Ages of the Brain, in Plain English

Childhood, from birth to around age 9, is a time of rapid growth and network consolidation. The brain is building, pruning, and strengthening the pathways that support learning and development.

Adolescence, from roughly age 9 to 32, is much longer than many of us might assume. During this era, the brain continues building more efficient long-distance connections, helping support maturing judgment, identity, emotional regulation, and complex thinking.

Adulthood, from roughly age 32 to 66, appears to be the brain’s longest and most stable structural era. This is a season where expertise, pattern recognition, executive function, and problem-solving can deepen. It is also a critical window for protecting the brain through the choices we make in midlife.

Early aging, from roughly age 66 to 83, marks a shift in brain architecture. Connections may become less globally integrated, and the body’s cumulative health patterns begin to matter even more. This is not a reason for fear. It is a reason to pay attention.

Late aging, around age 83 and beyond, may bring more localized brain communication and greater vulnerability. Yet even here, connection, movement, stimulation, and meaning still matter. The point is not to deny aging. The point is to participate more intentionally in how we age.

Why This Matters from Adulthood On

For me, the most inspiring part of this research is not the timeline itself. It is the reminder that adulthood is not a passive waiting room. Midlife can be a prevention and preparation window. Early aging can be a protection and strengthening window. Later aging can still support dignity, engagement, connection, and purpose.

That does not mean we can control everything. We cannot. Genetics, illness, environment, trauma, and access to healthcare all matter. But we are not powerless. Adult brain health is shaped by patterns over time: movement, learning, rest, relationships, food, stress, blood pressure, purpose, and use. In other words, the way we live becomes part of the environment our brain has to work with.

What We Can Influence

Protect cardiovascular health. What supports the heart often supports the brain. Managing blood pressure, blood sugar, cholesterol, and other health risks with professional guidance is one of the most practical ways adults can support long-term brain health.

Move regularly. Movement is not just about fitness. It supports circulation, balance, mood, energy, and confidence. A walk, a strength routine, a dance class, gardening, stretching, or cycling can become a practical brain-health habit.

Keep learning. The brain likes challenge. Learn a language. Take a class. Pick up an instrument. Explore technology. Read widely. Join a discussion group. New learning supports curiosity, confidence, and the sense that the next chapter is still being written.

Stay socially connected. Isolation can quietly shrink a life. Connection stretches it. Meaningful relationships, intergenerational friendships, community involvement, mentoring, volunteering, and shared projects all help keep us engaged with the world beyond ourselves.

Manage stress and protect sleep. Chronic stress and poor sleep can drain attention, mood, memory, and resilience. Evening rituals, reflection, boundaries, breathing practices, therapy, coaching, prayer, meditation, or quiet walks can all become part of a brain-supportive rhythm.

Reduce avoidable risks. Excess alcohol, prolonged inactivity, unmanaged health conditions, and repeated disengagement from meaningful activity can take a toll over time. Small course corrections matter because they compound.

Build purpose into the week. Purpose does not need to be grand to be protective. It can be mentoring one person, showing up for a grandchild, contributing to a cause, creating something beautiful, solving a problem, or being the steady presence others count on.

Your Brain-Forward Action Plan

If this research sparks anything, I hope it sparks one small next step. Not panic. Not perfection. Action.

Create a simple 30-day brain-forward action plan. Ask yourself:

· What is one health habit I will strengthen this month?

· What is one new learning challenge I will begin?

· What is one relationship I will invest in more intentionally?

· What is one stress pattern I need to interrupt?

· What is one purposeful contribution I want to keep making?

Then choose one small action this week. Schedule the walk. Make the appointment. Call the friend. Register for the class. Begin the sleep ritual. Name the contribution that still wants to come through you.

The brain’s changing structure is not a reason to retreat from life. It is a reason to live more deliberately. Your brain is not asking for perfection. It is asking for participation — one choice, one habit, one next step at a time.

P.S. If you enjoyed this week’s article, you may enjoy my program “Get a Taste of Retirement Life Design” on August 5^th. https://www.eventbrite.com/e/get-a-taste-of-retirement-life-design-tickets-1990803834861?aff=ebdsoporgprofile or “Chart Your Unique Path of Transition” on September 16^th https://www.eventbrite.com/e/chart-your-unique-path-of-transition-tickets-1990812505796?aff=ebdsoporgprofile

Carol Bergeron – Drawing on 25+ years as coach, consultant, and author, Carol Bergeron helps leaders unlock their legacy through executive branding, succession planning, and retirement life design.

© Copyright 2026 Bergeron Associates. All rights reserved. The content contained herein is provided for informational purposes only.

That middle can feel messy, uncertain, and unfinished, but it is also where momentum begins.

In William Bridges’ transition model, the messy middle or the Neutral Zone is the in-between space after the old identity, routine, or role has loosened, but before the new one has fully taken shape. It can feel confusing and inefficient. Yet it can also be the most creative part of the transition, because it is where experimentation, learning, and reinvention begin. If you are there now, it does not mean you are behind. It may mean you are exactly where transformation starts.

I know this space. Not long ago, I poured time and energy into building and launching “The Next Chapter Remix” – an online game where people collaborate to invent what comes next in retirement.

It failed.

The launch missed the mark. And yes, it was painful. As a coach who guides leaders through life shifts, eventually I saw the experience not as a failure but as a live demonstration of what the messy middle of transition actually requires.

Whether you are stepping up, stepping back, or stepping away, the lesson is the same: thinking through the messy middle only gets you so far. You have to prototype your way through it too.

1. Stepping Up: Moving into an Executive Role (clarifying impact)

When you move to an executive role, your old playbook no longer carries the same weight. Execution still matters, but the work shifts. You are now expected to shape strategy, influence across the enterprise, and make decisions with less certainty and more visibility.

When I built my game, I fell into the classic builder trap. I focused intensely on mechanics, features, and getting the pieces to work. But launching a game, like stepping into the C-suite, requires a different altitude. You have to become both publisher and architect: someone who understands the larger ecosystem, not just the individual tasks.

The Messy Middle Lesson:
Your first months as a new executive role may feel like a beta test. Some decisions will land. Others will miss the mark. That does not mean you do not belong. It means you are gathering data. The messy middle asks you to loosen the identity of the expert / doer and practice the identity of the enterprise strategist. Your early choices are prototypes that help clarify where your impact truly belongs.

2. Stepping Back: Building Next-Generation Talent (transferring impact)

For seasoned leaders, the messy middle often looks like letting go. To transfer your impact, you must move from star player to coach. You have to watch others run the play, make the call, and sometimes fumble in ways you could have prevented.

Game design taught me a blunt lesson about control. I designed the rules, built the world, and set the parameters. But once the game was live, I could not control who was motivated to play, what they noticed and did, where they got stuck, or whether they stayed engaged.

The Messy Middle Lesson:
Succession is not about scripting every move. It is about building a safe sandbox where emerging talent tests judgment, practice ownership, and learn from manageable mistakes. If you over-control the process, you may protect the moment but weaken the future. Transferring impact means designing low-stakes places for others to grow before the stakes are high.

3. Stepping Away: Retirement Life Design (re-imagining impact)

For some, retirement can bring a surprising form of choice paralysis. People who have spent years operating in high-stakes environments often look at the blank canvas of retirement and freeze. Rather than choose the wrong hobby, board seat, consulting role, volunteer commitment, or daily rhythm, they get stuck and never make an intentional choice.

When my game launch failed, it was disappointing. But I also learned something freeing: I survived. My identity did not disappear because one experiment did not work. Instead it expanded because I had new information.

The Messy Middle Lesson:
Retirement is not one final decision. It is a series of beta tests. Try the class. Take the trip. Consult for a limited project. Volunteer for a defined season. Experiment with a new rhythm for 30 days. If something falls flat, it is not failure; it is feedback. Close the app. Keep the learning. Launch the next version.

The Reality of the Messy Middle

The Neutral Zone is supposed to feel uncomfortable. If every experiment succeeds, you may not be experimenting at all. You may simply be repeating what already feels safe.

My game never topped the charts, it didn’t even get close. But it gave me something more useful: tools, empathy, and resilience for helping leaders navigate the in-between with more curiosity.

So, if you are in the messy middle right now, do not wait for perfect clarity. Build a small prototype. Run the experiment. Notice what happens. Then adjust. Every small test is proof that you are not stuck; you are actively shaping what comes next.

Keep going. The messy middle is not a detour from your transition; it is the place where courage, clarity, and confidence are built one experiment at a time.

Reflections:

For the Executive: What old doer/builder habits are you still clinging to, and what small strategic experiment could help you lead from a higher altitude?

For the Succession Leader: Where are you still managing outcomes too tightly, and where could you create a safe sandbox for next-generation talent to practice real ownership?

For the Retiring Leader: If you treated the next six months as a low-stakes beta test instead of a permanent decision, what would you try first?

P.S. If you enjoyed this week’s article, you may enjoy my program “Get a Taste of Retirement Life Design” on August 5^th. https://www.eventbrite.com/e/get-a-taste-of-retirement-life-design-tickets-1990803834861?aff=ebdsoporgprofile or “Chart Your Unique Path of Transition” on September 16^th https://www.eventbrite.com/e/chart-your-unique-path-of-transition-tickets-1990812505796?aff=ebdsoporgprofile

Carol Bergeron – Drawing on 25+ years as coach, consultant, and author, Carol helps leaders unlock their legacy through executive branding, succession planning, and retirement life design.

© Copyright 2026 Bergeron Associates. All rights reserved. The content contained herein is provided for informational purposes only.

No alarm. No meetings. No deadlines. No one else deciding what your day should look like. And yes, that freedom is part of the appeal. But here is what many people discover after the first rush wears off:

Too much freedom can be surprisingly hard to live inside.

Not because freedom is bad. Because freedom without any structure gets fuzzy fast.

Days blur. Good intentions stay vague. You stay busy, but not especially grounded. Or you drift between errands, leisure, projects, and screen time without feeling like the day was really yours.

That is why freedom needs structure too. Not corporate structure. Not a color-coded calendar that turns retirement into another job. Just enough structure to make freedom usable.

The mistake is thinking there are only two choices:

· total freedom, where every day is wide open

· over-scheduling, where retirement becomes another productivity system

There is a better middle ground where the goal is not to control every hour. The goal is to create enough rhythm that your days have shape without losing spaciousness.

That might mean a few anchor points instead of a packed calendar: a morning walk, a workout class twice a week, lunch with a friend on Thursdays, volunteer time on Tuesdays, a creative block in the afternoon, or one standing day with the grandkids.

Those anchors matter more than they seem. Research on retirement transition keeps pointing to the value of life structure, activity engagement, and social connection. A 2025 article in Working, Aging and Retirement describes retirement as a shift in “life structure,” not just employment status. A 2025 longitudinal study in Frontiers in Psychology linked stronger social participation, partner support, and health with better well-being in retirement. And a 2023 study in The Journals of Gerontology: Series B found that retirement often increases time spent in physical, social, and self-development activities, though not equally for everyone.

In plain English: retirement goes better when people do not just have free time. It goes better when they have meaningful ways to use it.

What light structure does well

· It reduces drift. If nothing has shape, it is easy to lose a week without meaning to.

· It supports identity. Repeating a few meaningful patterns helps you become someone in retirement, not just someone who stopped working.

· It protects energy. Too many open choices can be oddly draining. A few defaults free up mental space.

· It makes room for what matters. Health, relationships, creativity, learning, and contribution happen more reliably when they have a place in the week.

What over-scheduling gets wrong

Of course, there is a trap on the other side too. Some people get uncomfortable with open space and solve for that discomfort by filling the calendar fast. They optimize retirement. They recreate the same overcommitted pattern they were hoping to leave behind. That can look productive from the outside, but it quietly defeats the point.

Retirement is not supposed to be empty. But it is also not supposed to become a full-time management exercise. If your schedule leaves no room for rest, spontaneity, reflection, or changing your mind, the structure may be working against the freedom you wanted.

A better question to ask

Instead of asking, How do I fill my time? ask: What kind of rhythm helps me feel most like myself?

That question leads somewhere more useful. Because the best retirement structure is not generic. It is personal. Some people need more social contact. Some need more solitude. Some need movement early in the day. Others need slower mornings and stronger afternoon plans. Some want two or three reliable anchors a week. Others do better with a daily rhythm and lots of open space around it.

You are not trying to build the perfect schedule. You are trying to notice the conditions under which you feel grounded, alive, and free.

A simple way to think about it

· Too little structure makes freedom slippery.

· Too much structure makes retirement feel crowded.

· The sweet spot is enough rhythm to support your life, with enough space to enjoy it.

And because retirement is a series of transitions, that rhythm may need to change over time. What fits in the first six months may not fit two years later. Health changes. Interests change. Relationships change. That is normal. It is one more reason to use a flexible framework rather than a fixed plan.

So, if you are nearing retirement, embrace structure. Just choose the kind that serves freedom instead of replacing it. Because the point is not to schedule your life to death. It is to create a life with enough shape to hold what matters.

A few reflection questions to consider:

· When do I feel most grounded and energized in a day or week?

· Where might too little structure lead me to drift?

· Where might too much structure crowd out freedom?

· What two or three weekly anchors would make retirement feel more like mine?

Next week, I’ll turn to another important shift in retirement: what happens when your title goes away, but your need for identity does not.

Sources:

· Crary, M., Hall, D. T., Kram, K. E., Amabile, T. M., & Bailyn, L. (2025). Transitioning Into Retirement: The Interplay of Self and Life Structure. Working, Aging and Retirement, 11(2), 175–196.

· Hsu, W.-C., Huang, N.-C., & Hu, S. C. (2025). Well-being Trajectories and Dynamic Resource Shifts in the Transitions of Retirement: A Longitudinal Study of Taiwanese Older Adults. Frontiers in Psychology, 16. DOI: 10.3389/fpsyg.2025.1449442

· Tunney, O., Henkens, K., & van Solinge, H. (2023). A Life of Leisure? Investigating the Differential Impact of Retirement on Leisure Activity. The Journals of Gerontology: Series B, 78(10), 1775–1784. DOI: 10.1093/geronb/gbad097

© Copyright 2026 Bergeron Associates. All rights reserved.

If you already know you want to relocate, consult part-time, volunteer in a specific way, travel for three months each year, or build your days around golf, grandkids, painting, or teaching, that clarity can be a real advantage. It gives you something many people do not have: direction.

But like most strengths in a major life transition, it has a shadow side. Knowing exactly what you want in retirement can be a gift. It can also become a trap if you hold it too tightly.

The upside of knowing exactly what you want

Let’s start with the obvious: clarity creates momentum.

When you know what you want, it is easier to make practical decisions before retirement begins. You can shape your finances around it. Test pieces of the lifestyle early. Have better conversations with a spouse or partner. Start building the routines, relationships, and commitments that will support the next chapter.

Clarity also reduces a certain kind of anxiety. Instead of staring into the abyss, you are moving toward something specific. That can make retirement feel less abstract and more real in a good way.

And emotionally, clear direction can soften the landing. If work has been a major source of structure and purpose, it helps to know what will be waiting for you on the other side. In short, knowing what you want can help you retire into something rather than simply away from work.

The downside of knowing exactly what you want

Here is where it gets tricky: what sounds like clarity can actually be over-attachment.

You may be picturing one ideal version of retirement so vividly that you leave little room for reality. Health changes. Energy changes. Relationships change. Interests evolve. A spouse may want something different. Aging parents may need more from you. Grandchildren may pull your time in unexpected directions. Or you may simply discover that what looked great from a distance does not feel as good from the inside.

This is one of the hidden risks of having a very fixed vision: you can mistake a plan for a promise. And retirement does not tend to cooperate with rigid scripts.

Research on retirement adjustment keeps pointing to the importance of adaptation, meaning, and activity engagement, not just pre-set plans. A 2025 review in The Gerontologist noted that meaningful retirement is not created by finances alone, and a 2025 retirement adjustment framework emphasized identity rebuilding, social interaction, independence, and active engagement as core parts of adapting well. That matters because even a well-designed retirement idea still has to be lived.

The consequences of too little clarity

Of course, the opposite has consequences too. If you have no real picture of what you want, retirement can feel shapeless. You may drift. Overuse travel, leisure, or house projects as placeholders. Stay busy without feeling grounded. Or assume clarity will appear after you stop working, only to find that too much freedom feels surprisingly hard to use well.

So, this is not an argument against clarity. It is an argument against rigidity.

The sweet spot: clear enough to move, flexible enough to adapt

The goal is not to know exactly what every day of retirement will look like. The goal is to know enough to move forward intelligently. That means having a strong sense of what you want more of and less of. What matters most. What kinds of activities, rhythms, relationships, and contributions feel most aligned. What you want to test early. What you are curious about. What you are not willing to build your next chapter around.

That kind of clarity is useful because it guides action without pretending to control the future.

That is one reason flexibility matters so much. Retirement usually unfolds as a series of transitions, not a single event. What fits at the beginning may need to be reworked later as interests, relationships, health, or circumstances change. That is why a good framework when designing your new lifestyle matters. It gives you a way to revisit and redesign your next chapter instead of treating retirement like a decision you make once.

Think of it this way:

· Too little clarity can lead to drift.

· Too much certainty can lead to disappointment.

· Grounded clarity plus flexibility gives you the best chance of building a retirement that actually fits.

That is especially important for high achievers. They are used to solving for the right answer. But retirement is not a single right answer problem. It is closer to an evolving design process.

You do not need a perfect vision. You do need a direction worth exploring.

A few reflection questions to consider:

· Do I have a clear retirement vision, or just a few appealing images?

· Where might clarity be helping me move forward?

· Where might I be holding too tightly to one version of how retirement should look?

· What do I want to test or explore before retirement begins?

Knowing exactly what you want can be a gift. Retirement usually goes better when that clarity stays paired with curiosity, humility, and room to adjust.

Next week, I’ll explore a related challenge: creating enough structure in retirement to feel grounded without turning your freedom into another over-managed schedule.

Sources:

· Wood, R. E., & Pachana, N. A. (2025). The Role of Meaning in the Retirement Transition: Scoping Review. The Gerontologist. DOI: 10.1093/geront/gnaf076

· Fadeeva, A., Simmons, J., Thomas, L. B., Baker, K., & Ling, F. C. M. (2025). Retirement Adjustment Framework: Understanding the Interplay Between Individual and Contextual Factors. Journal of Prevention and Health Promotion. DOI: 10.1177/26320770241279737

© Copyright 2026 Bergeron Associates. All rights reserved.

June 8, 2026: The Drop

Today’s 3 Ingredients:

💼 Past Career: Leader in Supply Chain Management

🛑 Excellence in Problem Solving: Untangling messy logistics and cutting operational waste

⚡ Superpowers, Skills & Hobbies: Fluent Mandarin, Drone photography, Vertical farming

👇 Your Mission:

Invent a new “next chapter” role that remixes the above ingredients. It could be a consulting business, a local nonprofit, a passion project or hobby, or a volunteer venture. The format is flexible. The idea simply needs to be imaginative and viable.

Post your role and concept in the LinkedIn comments! Then read other entries, like your favs, and reply to peers with a “Yes, and…” to build on their ideas.

https://www.linkedin.com/posts/carolbergeron_the-next-chapter-remix-a-collaboration-game-activity-7469731039599280128-775K/

Stay tuned for the Friday poll to place your vote!

For many people, retirement has traditionally been framed as an ending. But for a growing number of professionals, it’s really a transition and a chance to re-imagine how their skills, interests, and experience could evolve into something new.

Let’s rethink that together. Instead of treating retirement as an ending, let’s focus on active, creative next chapters where people’s interests, strengths, and experience can continue to make an impact. When one career chapter winds down, it is not always easy to find the next career, hobby, venture, volunteer opportunity, full or part-time path that brings meaning, purpose, and connection. By collaborating on this challenge, we may spark ideas for ourselves and for others navigating this crossroads.

This Monday, June 8, 2026, I’m launching an interactive game called The Next Chapter Remix.

What is The Next Chapter Remix?

I’ll share three raw ingredients that describe a fictional professional figuring out what comes next:

💼 A past career
🛑 A problem they are excellent at solving
⚡ A mix of skills, superpowers, and hobbies they enjoy

Your challenge: Create a compelling new role, venture, or passion project from those ingredients. It could be a consulting business, a local nonprofit, a passion project or hobby, or a volunteer venture. The format is flexible. You decide. The idea simply needs to be imaginative and viable.

Then head over to LinkedIn and share your new “next chapter” role that remixes those elements.

Who is this for?

This is for anyone interested in reinvention, career design, creativity, or building what comes next. You do not need to be retired to participate. Fresh perspectives are part of what will make the game interesting.

How the game works:

• The Drop (Monday): I publish the three ingredients here with the link to share your idea.

• The Collaboration (Monday to Thursday): You share your invented role in the LinkedIn comments. Then read other entries, like your favorites, and reply to peers with a “Yes, and…” to build on top ideas.

• The Vote (Friday): I shortlist the top ideas from the comments and community likes and put them into a LinkedIn poll for the community to vote on.

• The Top Idea (Monday): The winning idea and creator is announced.

The first challenge drops Monday morning, and I’d love for you to play.

Best,
Carol Bergeron

On paper, they are ready. But in life? Not always.

Because financial readiness and life readiness are not the same thing.

· Financial readiness asks: Can I afford to stop working?

· Life readiness asks: Do I know what I am moving into when work stops?

That second question is where many smart, successful people get surprised. Why? Because work has been doing far more than funding life. It has also been giving life shape.

Work provides structure. Momentum. Challenge. Recognition. Relevance. Social contact. A reason to get moving. A built-in answer to the question, What do you do?

Yes, someone can be fully prepared financially and still feel untethered once retirement actually begins. That is not a planning failure. It is a category error. They prepared for the money side of retirement. They did not prepare as deeply for the life side of retirement. And the life side matters more than many people expect.

Research is beginning to say this more clearly. A 2025 review in The Gerontologist argues that retirement planning still leans heavily toward finances even though money alone does not create a meaningful retirement. A 2023 study in Psychology and Aging found that retirees do better when they maintain valued group memberships and build new ones after work ends. And a 2024 study in the Journal of Occupational and Organizational Psychology found that when people prepared for retirement by thinking about community, relationships, and how they would stay engaged, they felt at least as prepared as those who focused mainly on finances and often they felt more optimistic about retirement.

In other words: Money can make retirement possible. It cannot make retirement fulfilling by itself.

If you want retirement to feel good from the inside, life readiness deserves just as much attention as financial readiness.

That means preparing for questions like these:

· Identity: Who am I when my title is no longer my shorthand?

· Purpose: What will make this season feel meaningful?

· Structure: What kind of rhythm will keep me grounded?

· Belonging: Where will connection and contribution come from?

A spreadsheet will not answer those questions for you. It can support the life you want. It cannot design it. So, if you are nearing retirement, here is the reframe I would offer: Do the financial planning thoroughly. Then put equal seriousness behind preparing for the life you want to wake up to. Because retirement is not just about being able to leave work. It is about being ready to live well when you do.

A few reflection questions to sit with now:

· Do I have the financial fundamentals planned out and largely ready to go?

· If I knew I was financially ready, what would still need attention?

· Where might I be mistaking financial readiness for life readiness?

· What would help me strengthen my identity, purpose, structure, and belonging before my next chapter arrives?

Next week, I’ll explore the pros and cons of designing retirement when you know exactly what you want.

Sources:

· Wood, R. E., & Pachana, N. A. (2025). The Role of Meaning in the Retirement Transition: Scoping Review. The Gerontologist. DOI: 10.1093/geront/gnaf076

· Haslam, C., Lam, B. C. P., Ghafoori, E., Steffens, N. K., Haslam, S. A., Bentley, S. V., Cruwys, T., & La Rue, C. J. (2023). A Longitudinal Examination of the Role of Social Identity in Supporting Health and Well-Being in Retirement. Psychology and Aging, 38(7), 615–626. DOI: 10.1037/pag0000757

· La Rue, C. J., Haslam, C., Bentley, S. V., Lam, B. C. P., Steffens, N. K., Branscombe, N. R., Haslam, S. A., & Cruwys, T. (2024). GROUPS 4 RETIREMENT: A New Intervention That Supports Well-Being in the Lead-Up to Retirement by Targeting Social Identity Management. Journal of Occupational and Organizational Psychology, 97(1), 1–26. DOI: 10.1111/joop.12458

© Copyright 2026 Bergeron Associates. All rights reserved.

These concerns are not signs of weakness. They are signs that retirement is not a simple event, but a deeply human transition. For many accomplished professionals, work has provided more than income. It has offered identity, purpose, rhythm, challenge, relevance, and relationships. So, when retirement approaches, hesitation may not be about poor planning at all. It may be a natural response to the uncertainty of loosening one’s grip on something that has mattered greatly. Retirement adjustment is shaped not only by finances, but also by meaning, social identity, and emotional adaptation.

Concern #1: If I stop working, who am I?
This may be one of the deepest undercurrents in the transition. Careers do not just occupy time; they become part of self-definition. Titles, responsibilities, expertise, and reputation create a familiar sense of self. As retirement nears, people may begin to sense that they are not just leaving a role, but stepping away from a version of themselves they have inhabited for decades. Recent work on post-retirement decisions points to the important role of social identity and meaning in shaping how people approach retirement.

Concern #2: What if I lose my sense of purpose and relevance?
For high achievers especially, work has often been the place where contribution is visible and measurable. Problems are solved. Decisions matter. People depend on them. Retirement can raise a quiet but unsettling question: Will I still matter in the same way when those structures are gone? That question is not trivial. Meaningful engagement is one of the strongest themes in retirement adjustment, and the absence of it can leave people feeling unmoored even when retirement was chosen willingly.

Concern #3: What if too much freedom feels worse, not better?
We often talk about freedom as retirement’s great reward. And it is. But freedom without any structure can also feel disorienting. Many professionals underestimate just how much work has been organizing their days, energy, priorities, and momentum. The loss of routine can leave a person feeling less liberated than untethered. This is one reason retirement life design matters: not to over-schedule life, but to create enough rhythm that freedom becomes usable.

Concern #4: What if I design the wrong next chapter?
Some people avoid retirement life design because planning feels like pressure. If they cannot name the perfect next chapter, they would rather avoid the exercise altogether. Underneath that avoidance is often a reluctance to get it wrong. But retirement is not a one-time irreversible decision. It is an unfolding season. The next chapter usually emerges through testing, adjusting, learning, and refining. Clarity is more often discovered in motion than in advance.

Concern #5: What if this changes my relationships more than I expect?
Retirement reshapes more than an individual calendar. It can alter couple dynamics, household rhythms, friendships, and a person’s connection to former colleagues. Some people avoid talking about retirement design because they suspect it will surface misalignment with a spouse or partner, or expose how much of their social world has revolved around work. That possibility deserves attention, not avoidance. Relationships often need to be redesigned alongside routines and purpose.

If any of these concerns feel familiar, the goal is not to push them away, but to listen to what they may be telling you. These reactions can be useful data. They point to what matters. They reveal where support, reflection, and intentional design may be needed most. And often, once a concern is named, it becomes far less powerful than when it remains vague and hidden.

A few reflection questions to consider:

· Which of these concerns feels most true for me right now?

· What concern about retirement am I most aware of right now?

· What forms of identity, meaning, structure, or connection might I want to rebuild intentionally?

· What is one conversation I need to have with myself, my partner, or a trusted guide before moving forward?

Next week, I’ll turn to another common misconception: why financial planning alone does not prepare people for retirement. It is essential, of course. But by itself, it does not answer the deeper questions of identity, purpose, daily life, and belonging that often shape whether retirement feels flat or fully lived.

I see this often, and not because people are careless or unimaginative. Quite the opposite. Many pre-retirees are thoughtful, responsible, and highly capable. They have spent decades building meaningful careers, leading teams and organizations, solving hard problems, and creating structure for others. So, when retirement life design enters the conversation, hesitation can show up quietly and in rational ways.

One reason is that financial readiness can create the illusion of total readiness. If the spreadsheets are solid and the retirement date is penciled in, it is easy to assume the rest will fall into place. Yet retirement is not just a financial event. It is also a transition of meaning, identity, and life structure. Work often provides more than income; it supplies rhythm, relevance, relationships, and a ready-made answer to the question, “What do you do?”

Another reason is that the word design can be misleading. To some, it sounds vague and full of fluff. To others, it sounds like pressure to produce a perfect vision on demand. And for many high achievers, it can sound suspiciously like one more project to manage after a career full of projects. If freedom is one of the things they are looking forward to most, the idea of “designing” retirement can feel like replacing one structure with another. In that sense, avoidance is not always about retirement itself. Sometimes it is simply a reaction to language that makes the process sound heavier or more rigid than it needs to be.

There is also a more personal layer to this. Thinking about retirement can make the transition feel more immediate. It may raise questions about identity, relevance, aging, and what comes next when the title that has organized so much of life begins to matter less. For some, that is also why the word retirement does not feel quite right. It can sound more final or limiting than the life they actually hope to create, especially if they imagine this next chapter including continued work, impact, or reinvention. That does not mean anything is wrong. It simply means this transition, whatever we call it, often asks for both practical planning and personal reflection.

Uncertainty also keeps people stuck. Many pre-retirees assume they should know exactly what they want before they begin. But that is not how most meaningful transitions work. Clarity rarely arrives fully formed. More often, it grows through reflection, experimentation, and small steps. Retirement life design is not a rigid blueprint. Think of it more as a working sketch of the kind of structure, meaning, and engagement you want to explore next, whether that includes full retirement, full or part-time work, consulting, volunteering, or some combination that fits you better than the traditional model.

So, if you have been avoiding retirement life design, I hope you will hear this with compassion: your hesitation may not be procrastination. It may be wisdom trying to tell you that this transition deserves more than a quick answer. It deserves room for thought. Room for emotion. Room for imagination. And yes, some light structure to help you cross the bridge rather than free-fall into the next chapter.

If this topic is landing close to home, here are a few questions to sit with:

· What part of retirement planning feels easiest for me, and what part am I quietly avoiding?

· What has work been giving me besides a paycheck: structure, identity, challenge, belonging, contribution, momentum?

· When I imagine retirement, or whatever I might prefer to call this next chapter, what am I most hoping to gain and what am I most reluctant to lose?

· What is one small conversation, reflection, or experiment I could begin now rather than waiting for full clarity?

This is the first in a short series on why pre-retirees avoid retirement life design. In the weeks ahead, I’ll unpack some of the hidden concerns underneath that hesitation, including why the word retirement itself does not always feel like the right fit, and offer practical ways to begin shaping what is next without overcomplicating it. Because retirement is more than leaving work. It is a transition into a new life structure, and transitions go better when we approach them with intention.

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That category was books. Not textbooks. Not “how to succeed” manuals. The kind of books you tuck into a backpack because you suspect you’re about to become someone new. As I read book descriptions and their reviews, I was reminded that graduation isn’t just a ceremony, it’s a threshold.

And thresholds come with a full spectrum of feelings: excitement of freedom and possibility, pride and proof that your efforts got you to where you are, sadness because good endings are still endings whether they be friendships or routines, and a little fear of the unknown as responsibility ramps up and the future becomes now. Add the surprisingly ungrounded feeling that can show up when structure disappears and choice multiplies.

Reading those graduation book summaries, I kept thinking: this is also the emotional weather of early retirement.

If you’ve recently retired, or you’re standing close to that transition, you may recognize the same mix: relief and anticipation, pride and loss, confidence and uncertainty. Yes, many retirees today are redefining retirement with purpose, continued impact, and a healthy mind-body-spirit focus. And still, even the most capable achievers can feel momentarily untethered when the familiar rhythm of meetings, milestones, and professional identity fades. That doesn’t mean you’re doing retirement wrong. It means you’re in a real transition, and transitions ask us to re-imagine who we are and how we want to live.

That’s why those “books for grads” felt like more than gift ideas. They’re inviting you to do three things that matter just as much in retirement as they do at 18: claim your agency, stay curious, and design your days with intention.

So, if you’re looking for a gentle reset or a spark, here are a few titles that showed up on graduation lists and may also be surprisingly timely companions for a new retiree. I haven’t read every one cover to cover, so think of these as a browse-and-pick-your-own-adventure list.

Carpe Every Diem by Robbie Rogue — bite-sized reminders to notice what matters and use your days on purpose.

How To Be You by Jeffrey Marsh — a compassionate nudge back to authenticity when you’re redefining identity beyond a title.

The Moth Presents: A Point of Beauty by The Moth — stories that help you spot meaning in the messy middle of change.

Becoming Me: A Work in Progress by Andrea Pippins — a creative prompt to choose who you want to be next and being more creative on the journey.

How To Start: Discovering Your Life’s Work (pending release) by Jodi Kantor — a practical lens on bringing your gifts to real needs, without forcing the answer too fast.

Atomic Habits by James Clear — a powerful reminder that small choices, repeated, become your new chapter.

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy — simple, universal truths about friendship, love, courage, and home.

If you take one idea from the Class of 2026, let it be this: the next chapter doesn’t arrive fully formed. You author it. Not in one grand decision, but in small, brave choices that create momentum: a new morning routine, the call you’ve been meaning to make, the class you try, the volunteer role you test-drive, the walk you take even when you don’t feel like it.

A few questions to sit with:

· What do I want more of in this season: connection, creativity, contribution, learning, rest?

· Where am I hesitating? What’s one tiny move I can make this week to build momentum?

· If I could be known for one kind of impact in retirement, what would it be?

And because every good graduation speech ends with homework… here’s yours: share your best read. What book helped you navigate a transition (retirement or otherwise), the one you’d insist the rest of us pack in our backpack or beach bag? Bonus points if you drop a one‑liner on why it stuck.

And while you’re looking for the right gift for the graduate in your circle, life may be offering you one, too. The tassel they’re about to turn is visible. The one you’re turning in retirement is quieter but no less real. So, the next time you congratulate a member of the Class of 2026, ask them this… and then answer it for yourself: “In one year, what do you want to be true about you?”

• When you’re a child she walks before you, to set an example.

• When you’re a teenager she walks behind you, to be there should you need her.

• When you’re an adult she walks beside you, so that as two friends you can enjoy life together.

It beautifully captures one of the most remarkable realities of motherhood, it is not a single role, but a series of evolving ones.

Ah, the many joys of motherhood: watching your child experience so many firsts, being their trusted safe harbor when things are uncertain, seeing them grow into unique human beings with a blend of familiar and entirely new quirks. There are the bear hugs (requested or not) and the steady expansion of your own patience, empathy, and resilience that motherhood seems to demand.

Full disclosure: I’m not a mom. However, I am an aunt to eleven nieces and nephews and fifteen great nieces and nephews – and counting. Over the years, I’ve had a front row seat to the lives of new moms as they, and their children, grow and transition over time. I love watching personalities emerge, passions take place, and paths begin to form. No two journeys look the same. As an aunt, my role has happily included cheering from the sidelines and spoiling whenever possible.

Becoming a parent for the first time is undeniably joyful. And, as joyous as it is, it also ushers in profound change: physical and hormonal shifts, identity changes sometimes intensified by pausing a career, fewer spontaneous connections with friends, and moments of isolation can all surface. Add anxiety around raising a child and additional complexity when adopting, and it’s clear this transition carries real weight.

I’ll never forget what one friend shared with me: “Having the baby went fine. It wasn’t until we were loading this new life into the car seat to drive home for the first time that it hit me – Yikes. This bundle of joy is my responsibility. I hope I don’t screw it up.”

In this role mom is the primary caregiver, an awesome responsibility that arrives without a handbook.

Then some experience motherhood with multiple children. I can’t count the number of times friends and family have said that once you’re outnumbered, life can feel overwhelming. This phase often demands shifts in household routines and childcare responsibilities just to keep everything moving. The role of example-setter, organizer, and chief cheerleader expands dramatically.

My mom (along with dad) took on many roles: personal driver and driving instructor, chef, housekeeper, tutor, lawn keeper and the like. Out of necessity, she became especially skilled at delegation, a survival skill that many moms master earlier than they might expect.

Then there are the teenage and early adult years. My husband’s mother raised three boys. When asked whether she missed having a daughter she replied “No, I’m good with three boys. I would never want to raise a mini-me.”

These years call for deep mentoring, steady coaching, and an ongoing practice of letting go particularly since brains don’t fully mature until the mid to late twenties, with recent research suggesting development may even extend into the thirties.

When my sibs and I left home for the last time, we carried with us a solid set of life skills: cooking, cleaning, laundry, landscaping, gardening, basic auto care, financial literacy, organization, communicating, adaptability, conflict resolution, and respect (essential skills in a household of ten).

That transition ushers in the empty-nester phase for moms. While it can take time to adjust to a quieter household (and convert a bedroom into she-shed), it also offers a meaningful opportunity to rediscover interests, refresh passions, renew friendships, and explore what this next stage of life might hold.

So, as you celebrate or think fondly of your own mom this Mother’s Day, take a moment to recognize the other moms in your life as well as the transitions they may be navigating.

A Coaching Reflection: What Motherhood Teaches Us About Transition

Motherhood may be the most dynamic leadership journey there is. It demands continuous reinvention, adaptability without guarantees, and resilience built one season at a time.

Across every phase, a pattern emerges:

• Leading without a clear roadmap

• Making decisions with imperfect information

• Holding responsibility long before feeling “ready”

• Letting go, again and again

• Redefining identity again as circumstances change

These are not just parenting skills. They are life skills. Career skills. Leadership skills.

Questions to ponder this Mother’s Day:

• Which phase of motherhood, or support of others, am I currently navigating?

• What is this season asking of me now and how is that different from before?

• Where might I offer myself (or another mom) more compassion during change?

• Who around me may be quietly navigating a significant transition?

Mother’s Day isn’t just about celebration. It’s an opportunity t

o see the invisible transitions and acknowledge the strength it takes to walk through them.

Happy Mother’s Day to all you moms out there! (I love you, Mom!)

That’s why many succession plans quietly become “best leader for the last chapter” plans. They are strong on experience, weaker on future fit.

So, the real question isn’t simply “who’s next”. It’s: What will the next leader need to be great at, given the future we’re steering toward?

The most overlooked prerequisite to naming a successor isn’t a slate of candidates. It’s strategic clarity. When you’re clear on where the organization is headed, you can define the capabilities the next leader must bring to win in that future (not the one you’re leaving behind).

This focus does more than guide a CEO pick. It aligns hiring, development, and deployment decisions across the organization so you’re building bench strength, not just naming a successor.

Yes, every role has technical and functional requirements. But in fast-changing environments, the smarter bet is building transferable capabilities that travel well across scenarios:

· Rapid decision-making: Make sound calls with imperfect information and learn quickly from what the data reveals next.

· Change readiness: Adapt, pivot, and keep teams aligned when priorities shift and the path isn’t fully defined.

· Rapid learning: Absorb new domains, business models, and operating rhythms fast and without needing perfect conditions first.

· Cultural fluency: Build trust and momentum across functions, geographies, and stakeholder groups especially under stress and within tight timeframes.

Build these transferable capabilities early so succession planning becomes less of a scramble and more of a steady engine of organizational resilience.

Practical next steps:

1. Get clear on where your organization is headed (12–36 months out).

2. Translate that vision into 5 to 7 “must-have” capabilities of your talented team.

3. Assess your bench against those capabilities and build development plans to close the gaps.

What first step will you take tomorrow to progress forward?

When most leaders think about their executive brand, they picture polished LinkedIn profiles, well-crafted introductions, or maybe a future thought leadership platform. All useful. All important. And all incomplete.

Because your most powerful branding opportunity isn’t “out there.” It’s already happening inside your organization whether you’re shaping it intentionally or not.

Your Brand Is Already Speaking

When done well, your executive brand reveals your authentic self. It reflects: the work you do best, your leadership and superpowers, the complex problems you’re trusted to solve, the impact you consistently create, and the lived experience people have when they work with you.

Yes, developing clarity around this takes reflection. It also takes perspective, seeking input from others to understand how your leadership actually lands. That work can feel vulnerable. It can also be deeply energizing and surprisingly liberating.

And the payoff? Immediate.

Most leaders start by crafting a concise, compelling introduction, one that makes networking easier and conversations more natural. From there, profiles get updated, language sharpens, confidence builds. Momentum grows. So far, so good.

Where Many Leaders Get Stuck

Here’s a pattern I see: Leaders do the foundational brand work but stop short of fully using it.

They apply it to introductions. They apply it to online presence. They even apply it within their immediate team. And then… they hesitate.

Why? Because broader visibility can feel risky. Because it’s easier to “practice” in safe spaces. Because everything else on their plate feels more urgent.

But this is where a significant opportunity is often missed.

Start Where the Leverage Is: Inside Your Organization

Before building a following outside your company, if that’s even your goal, I encourage leaders to intentionally amplify their brand internally.

Why? Because internal visibility is where trust compounds, influence accelerates, and reputation becomes embedded.

Here are practical, high‑impact ways to bring your executive brand to life inside your organization:

1. Lead where it matters most.
Present critical work or facilitate conversations on topics you genuinely care about at all‑hands meetings or leadership forums.

2. Shape the narrative.
Contribute articles, insights, or a recurring column to internal newsletters or platforms helping others see how you think, not just what you do.

3. Develop others intentionally.
Mentor, coach, or sponsor high‑potential talent in ways that reflect your values and strengths.

4. Build capability, not just results.
Co‑facilitate workshops in mission‑critical areas where your expertise and leadership style can be experienced firsthand.

5. Step into shared ownership.
Join or support strategic task forces where enterprise level thinking is required.

6. Be present where leaders gather.
Attend and help design leadership forums that deepen relationships beyond your immediate circle.

Each of these actions sends a clear signal about who you are, what you value, and how you lead without ever feeling like self‑promotion.

Guiding Principles

Whatever approaches you choose, make sure your efforts align with your values and the impact you want to be known for.

Your brand isn’t about doing more. It’s about being more intentional with where and how you show up.

A Question to Sit With

If someone inside your organization described your leadership brand today, would it fully reflect the impact you’re capable of making?

And if not, where is one place you could start showing up more intentionally this month?

That single decision may do more for your brand than any profile update ever could.

If you’ve spent your career as a high achiever, leader, or executive, you’ve lived inside structure, often without realizing just how much of it you helped create. Strategic plans. Operating rhythms. Budgets. Risk scenarios. Pivots. Succession plans. Ninety-day goals. Performance reviews. These systems didn’t just keep the organization moving, they gave your days shape, momentum, and meaning. Whether you loved that structure or occasionally pushed against it, it quietly supported whom you collaborated with, how you made decisions, measured progress, and experienced impact.

Now pause for a moment and imagine stepping out of all of it. No calendar filled with meetings and purpose. No shared goals. No built-in rhythm. No obvious markers of progress.

At first, that kind of freedom can feel exhilarating. For many, it becomes surprisingly disorienting. This is where retirement transitions tend to diverge.

Two retirements. Two Very Different Experiences.

Josh’s story is common.

Like many accomplished professionals, Josh prepared financially for retirement but gave little attention to how life would actually feel once work ended. When retirement arrived, on his timeline or not, he felt confident he’d figure it out. After all, he’d navigated far bigger challenges.

He celebrated with a long-awaited trip. It was wonderful.

Then came the first Monday morning back. His body woke at 5:00 a.m., wired by decades of routine. He lingered over coffee, read the paper cover to cover, walked the dog, and began tackling a long-delayed basement cleanout.

A few weeks passed. Then a few months. He stayed busy with house projects, errands, and organizing. But something was missing. The work didn’t carry the same sense of purpose. His impact felt smaller. And one day, at a neighborhood gathering, he caught himself saying, “I’m the former CXO of…” an introduction he’d promised himself he’d never use.

Josh didn’t do anything wrong. He did what many high achievers do.

Lilly took a different path.

Like Josh, she didn’t have a fully formed vision of retirement life while she was still working. But she did create a 90-day retirement transition plan; nothing elaborate, just intentional.

She identified experiences she’d postponed for years. Thought about which relationships she wanted to rekindle. Paid attention to health, routines, and creative outlets that energized her. She even sketched out what her days and weeks might look like just enough to make the future tangible.

That clarity sparked excitement. So, six to twelve months before retiring, Lilly began laying the groundwork. She planned a capstone trip. Researched local walking and biking trails. Turned a spare bedroom into an art studio. When retirement arrived, she didn’t stall. Instead, she stepped into a life already in motion.

Most importantly, those first 90 days created space for deeper reflection. She began shaping a longer-term retirement life design which included exploring volunteer roles where her strengths could still make an impact, creating a sustainable plan for house and yard responsibilities, making more time for family and friends, and balancing productivity with joy.

Her days felt full, purposeful, and hers.

The Difference Isn’t Motivation. It’s Structure.

These two paths lead to very different outcomes, and the distinction comes down to this:

• In retirement, you are now responsible for creating the structure your career once provided.

• Absent a full retirement life design, a 90-day transition plan is the minimum viable structure for a strong start.

So, what’s in a 90-Day Plan? Common elements include: purpose & direction, daily & weekly rhythm, relationship & connection, health & energy, engagement & exploration, home / yard & projects, and reflection & adjustment.

Think of the 90-day plan as a bridge, not a permanent solution, but a thoughtful way to cross from one chapter into the next without losing your footing. Your first 90 days set the tone. They establish momentum. They prevent drift. And perhaps most importantly, they protect your sense of identity and impact during a transition of profound change. And transitions go best when they’re designed with intention.

If you’re within a year of retirement, what might your first 90 days look like if you designed them with the same care you once brought to your career?

Consider this representative scenario.

A seasoned leader, Maria, built extraordinary impact over many years. She was trusted, capable, and central to the organization’s success. People relied on her judgment. Work flowed through her. Outcomes reflected her standards. And yet, Maria felt increasingly stretched—and quietly stuck.

Phase One: The Problem — When Impact Becomes Tied to Holding On

Maria believed in developing the next generation of leaders. She talked openly about growth, opportunity, and the future. But when it came to transferring responsibility for work she personally owned, she hesitated.

Not because others weren’t capable, but because these responsibilities represented her contribution. Letting go felt risky. If she stepped back, would things still matter as much? Would she still matter as much?

Over time, her role had become both indispensable and limiting. Decisions waited. Talent deferred. And Maria carried more than her share because she always had.

What she couldn’t yet see was that the very strengths that built her success were now constraining what was possible next for her and for the organization.

Phase Two: The Action — Redefining Impact

Maria started not with a transition plan, but with reframing the situation. Instead of asking, “What am I giving up?” Maria explored a different question: “What kind of impact is no longer possible if I keep doing everything myself?”

That shift opened the door. Maria began to:

• Name the cost of holding on to her energy, to others’ growth, and to the organization’s resilience.

• Transfer judgment, not just tasks, sharing the “why” behind decisions, not just the “what”.

• Create space for others to step fully into responsibility, even when it felt uncomfortable.

At the same time, she also started to shape a new role for herself, one focused less on execution and more on mentoring, perspective, and long‑term direction. Letting go wasn’t about disappearing. It was about making room.

Phase Three: The Results — Impact That Multiplies

As responsibilities shifted, something powerful happened. Emerging leaders stepped forward with confidence and ownership. Decisions moved faster. The organization became less dependent on a single person and more capable as a whole.

And Maria experienced a different kind of satisfaction. Her impact didn’t shrink, it expanded.
She moved from being central to everything to being influential where it mattered most. She could see her legacy taking shape, not someday, but now in the leaders growing because she trusted them enough to lead.

A Transition Worth Making

Succession planning is not about stepping away from meaningful work. It’s about stepping into a form of leadership where your impact can outlive your direct involvement.

For leaders like Maria, letting go isn’t the end of contribution. It’s the transition that makes the next chapter possible.

If this resonates, you’re not alone and you don’t have to navigate it alone either.

A Reflection to Carry Forward

If you’re a leader who feels both proud of what you’ve built and uncertain about what comes next, this moment matters. Succession planning isn’t just an organizational exercise; it’s a personal transition. It asks us to loosen our grip on what has defined our value and step toward a form of impact that’s shared, multiplied, and enduring.

If you’re wondering:

• What am I holding onto that may be limiting what’s possible next?

• Who could grow if I made more room?

• What kind of leader does this next chapter call me to be?

I invite you to pause with those questions. Because the most meaningful legacies aren’t left behind.
They’re carried forward through people who are ready because you made space for them.

By late winter, Ellen felt flat. The snow had lingered for months and so had her mood. She moved through her days on autopilot, work, home, repeat. Evenings blurred together. Nothing was wrong exactly, but something had gone quiet in her and nothing felt energizing.

She told herself it was a low-grade funk, easy to normalize. Winter does this, she thought. You just wait it out. What Ellen didn’t realize was that winter had settled not just outside her window, but inside her habits, her thinking, and her sense of possibility.

Phase Two: The Action — Responding Instead of Waiting

Then spring began to show itself and one morning something subtly shifted.

The light came earlier. The air felt different, cool but no longer sharp. On the first mild morning, Ellen opened a window she’d kept shut all winter. Fresh air moved through the room, carrying the faint scent of thawing earth. Later that day, she chose a longer route home so she could walk instead of drive. She noticed the wet sidewalks, the birds returning, the light lingering just a little longer.

It wasn’t dramatic, but it was enough. Over the next week, she made a few small intentional shifts:

• She took a walk outside every day, even if only for ten minutes.

• She cleared one cluttered surface in her home that had bothered her for months.

• She reached out to a friend she hadn’t seen all winter and made a plan.

Instead of waiting for her energy to return, Ellen responded as if it might and let her actions lead. Spring didn’t fix everything, but it gave her a cue. A signal that waiting was no longer the only option.

Phase Three: The Results — A Quiet Renewal

Gradually, her mood lifted and the funk loosened its grip. Ellen felt more awake in her own life. Her energy began to return, not all at once, but steadily. Work felt lighter. She felt more present and willing to engage. Smaller joys registered like longer evenings, open windows, and laughter that came more easily.

What changed wasn’t just the season, it was Ellen’s relationship to transition. She realized that getting out of a funk, whether emotional, professional, or personal, is one of life’s most frequent transitions. It doesn’t require a major change. It requires noticing when the season shifts and choosing to shift with it.

Spring offered her a reminder that renewal often begins quietly. With attention and movement. With permission to step forward instead of staying still.

We often think transitions have to be big to matter, new jobs, new roles, major decisions, retirement. But some of the most important transitions are the internal ones: moving from stuck to curious, from drained to engaged, from waiting to participating again in our own lives.

Spring doesn’t just change the landscape. It invites us to notice where we’re ready to change too. And sometimes, that’s all it takes.

Happy Spring!

Retirement rarely arrives exactly as planned. For many people, it’s a moment or shift resulting from a reorganization, a health nudge, or a change in family needs. That kind of change can suddenly accelerate retirement’s timeline. What once felt comfortably “a few years away” becomes immediate.

Consider this representative scenario.

At 61, Susan was fully engaged in her role as senior operations leader. Work gave her days structure, challenge, and a rhythm built around responsibility, problem‑solving, contribution, and impact. Retirement was on the horizon, but not urgent. There would be time to think about the details later.

Then a reorganization changed her timeline. Her position was eliminated, and suddenly retirement wasn’t a distant idea. It was happening now.

On paper, Susan was prepared. Financially, things were solid. Friends congratulated her. But internally, she felt unsettled. Without the familiar cadence of work, her days felt wide open in a way that was less liberating than disorienting.

What surprised her wasn’t boredom. It was how much meaning, structure, and identity her career had quietly been providing. This is where many transitions become difficult, not because something is wrong, but because something meaningful has ended, and there hasn’t been space to acknowledge it. What softened the landing in this scenario wasn’t a detailed plan. It was prior reflection and a roughed-out retirement life design.

Before the timeline shifted, Susan had already begun thinking about what she wanted her next chapter to feel like. She had reflected on what mattered, what gave her energy, how she wanted her days to be shaped, and what kinds of engagement would continue to feel purposeful. Not in a rigid or prescriptive way, but a thoughtful life design grounded in what mattered to her: health, contribution, connection, and personal growth.

So, when retirement arrived earlier than expected, Susan didn’t panic because she wasn’t starting from scratch.

She had a sense of who she was beyond her title. She had grounding routines that created rhythm in her days. She had a sense of direction, even as details were still emerging. She understood that fulfillment wouldn’t disappear with her role, it would simply need to be expressed differently. She approached the transition with curiosity rather than urgency. And she had begun to redesign her relationships and sense of belonging outside the workplace. That foundation grounded her. Instead of scrambling to replace what had ended, she allowed space for adjustment. That’s the quiet power of early reflection.

Transitions are rarely about having everything figured out. They’re about having enough clarity to keep your footing when certainty disappears. Even a light‑touch life design, a thoughtful outline rather than a fixed roadmap, can reduce friction and help you move forward with intention.

Retirement isn’t a single event. It’s a transition. And like all transitions, it tends to unfold more smoothly when you’ve taken time, even a little time, to reflect before you’re forced to react.

This was the place Alex found herself. A Senior Director of Clinical Operations at a life sciences company, her career looked successful from the outside. She led complex programs, navigated regulatory demands, and was trusted to deliver in high‑stakes environments. Internally, however, it was becoming harder to sustain.

Alex wasn’t struggling in obvious ways. Performance was solid. Relationships were professional. Yet a quiet frustration was growing. What once made her successful, being the expert and reliable problem‑solver, no longer matched the level of influence now required at her level.

She named it simply: “I know I have more to offer, but I’m not sure how I’m being seen or how to shift it.”

Internally, there was tension. Alex felt under-recognized for her strategic thinking while being relied on heavily for execution. Externally, the signals were subtle but telling: late invitations to key conversations, being seen as “dependable” rather than essential, carrying responsibility without corresponding influence.

Leadership had become draining. Not burnout, but dulling. Beneath it all was a persistent question: If this is what success feels like now, what’s next?

At senior levels, misalignment rarely shows up as failure. It shows up as friction. For Alex, staying the same meant continuing to work hard without feeling fully leveraged. For the organization, it meant a highly capable clinical leader operating below her true strategic altitude.

The turning point came with an important realization: Alex didn’t need to become a different leader. She needed to become clearer about who she already was and lead from there.

Work focused on executive brand clarity, grounded in surfacing Alex’s values and leadership superpowers or the distinctive strengths that had always been present but under‑expressed. The focus was on her ability to synthesize complexity, anticipate risk, and connect clinical strategy to the organization’s priorities as core differentiators, not just technical competencies.

Over time her superpowers became clearer and were translated into an enterprise‑level leadership presence. Next was the alignment of how Alex communicated, prioritized, and made decisions so her intent and value were unmistakable. This wasn’t about visibility for its own sake, but about leading with greater intention and coherence.

Over time, the impact became visible. Alex was invited earlier into strategic conversations. Her perspective began shaping direction, not just execution. Peers and senior stakeholders increasingly saw her as a thought leader and partner. Nothing about her capability changed. Her positioning did.

Equally important was the internal shift. Alex felt grounded, confident, and re‑energized by leadership. As she reflected, “I’m no longer trying to fit into expectations. I’m leading from my strengths and it shows.”

The organization benefited as well; gaining a senior leader operating at full capacity and modeling intentional leadership during times of change.

This story reflects a broader truth: senior leaders often outgrow the strategies that first made them successful. Transitions aren’t liabilities, they are leverage points. When leaders surface their values and superpowers and align who they are with how they lead, everyone benefits.

If success looks right on paper but feels unsettled in practice, it may not be a problem to fix. Think of it as an invitation to lead more intentionally.

Carol Bergeron helps career achievers unlock their legacy and embrace what’s next whether that’s stepping into high-stakes leadership, amplifying their executive brand, developing the next generation of top talent, or making the leap to retirement that’s just as fulfilling and brilliant as their career.

Explore coaching programs, books, and workbooks: https://bergeronassociates.com/home/resources/  including “Create Your EPIC Executive Brand”.

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