I've noticed a flurry of articles lately about the explosive growth of Buy Now, Pay Later. The Globe and Mail reported that BNPL has gone fully mainstream, with Canadians across income levels stretching groceries and gadgets into “manageable” monthly bites. The Walrus ran a piece by Vass Bednar arguing that BNPL has quietly become a shadow credit system that doesn't show up on any credit bureau's radar until it implodes. Reading both, I couldn't help but smile. Not because the trend is amusing, quite the opposite. It's because we've been here before.
Long before Klarna, Afterpay, Sezzle and Affirm, there were Sears, Woolworth's, Kmart and Leon's. Canadians had layaway. No app, no one-click checkout, no influencer urging you to split a purchase into four easy instalments. Just a patient store clerk, a paper receipt, and a straightforward deal: you made payments over time, and only after the last one cleared did you take the item home, along with the quiet pride of knowing you'd earned it. Delayed gratification wasn't a burden; it was simply how responsible people bought things.
Try explaining that to a twenty-five-year-old today. “Wait... what? You paid for it, and they wouldn't let you take it home?” Over the past forty years, we quietly flipped the model upside down. Yesterday's philosophy was pay first, enjoy later. Today, we enjoy first, pay later. The payment schedule looks remarkably similar, but the psychology could not be more different.
That took me straight back to my childhood, when my parents represented two entirely different schools of financial thought. To Dad, cash wasn't just king; it was emperor, prime minister, pope, and captain of the soccer team, all rolled into one. If he didn't have it, he didn't buy it. Mom's favourite line was different: “If I waited until I could afford it, I'd never get it!” One afternoon, she came through the door beaming and announced, “I saved a thousand dollars today!” This was the 1970s, real money, and we waited breathlessly to hear how. “I bought a baby grand piano,” she said. “It was four thousand, on sale for three. I saved a thousand dollars!” The room went silent. Technically, she wasn't wrong. Dad never fully embraced Mom's definition of “saving.” I believe he eventually paid off the piano. I'm less convinced he ever settled the argument.
Looking back, I don't think they were arguing about money at all. They were arguing about time. Dad believed that sacrificing today made tomorrow easier. Mom believed that tomorrow would work itself out. If they were alive now, Dad would still be carrying cash in his wallet, and Mom would have four BNPL apps on her phone and know exactly which one had the best promo running.
I suspect most of us carry a bit of both. We're remarkably good at convincing ourselves that Future Me will be wealthier, more disciplined, and generally more together than Present Me. Future Me will get the raise, won't mind another monthly payment, will eat well, will sleep eight hours, will exercise regularly, and will never procrastinate. Read that again. Now look in the mirror. Got you, didn't I? Future Me usually looks a lot like Present Me, just with a few more wrinkles and a little less earning power.
Behavioural economists call this present bias, or hyperbolic discounting: we place a much higher value on immediate rewards than on future ones. Nobel laureate Richard Thaler and Shlomo Benartzi built much of their retirement research around this tendency, and their Save More Tomorrow program showed how much help people need to overcome it (Thaler & Benartzi, 2004). Once you see that, BNPL stops looking like a payment option and starts looking like brilliant behavioural design. A $2,000 purchase quietly becomes “only $83 a month.” The price hasn't changed; our perception has. That, not the payment plans themselves, is the real story: the tug-of-war between Present Me and Future Me. That explains why so many Canadians struggle to save for retirement and often arrive there wishing we decided differently decades earlier.
Why Is BNPL Suddenly Everywhere? Convenience is only part of the answer. The real drivers are rising living costs, stubborn inflation, and a culture that's grown allergic to waiting. BNPL fits that mindset perfectly: Payments Canada data shows usage rising from roughly 9% in 2022 to 25% in 2024. Younger Canadians cite quick access to credit, while middle-aged Canadians call it a budgeting tool. One group sees borrowing; the other sees it as managing cash flow as paycheques stretch less far. A recent Globe and Mail report on Koho's Grocery Gap data found that BNPL use for groceries more than doubled between May 2025 and May 2026, while incomes barely budged. Dad would have hated that explanation. Mom would have reminded him that life doesn't wait for your savings account to catch up.
Like most financial tools, BNPL is neither inherently good nor bad. A hammer can build a house or break a window, depending on who's holding it. If your furnace dies mid-winter, financing the replacement is one of the smartest moves you'll make. The same goes for emergency dental work or a computer you need for work. Those are investments, not expenses. Financing concert tickets or a smartphone upgrade because yours is eighteen months old is a different category, one where Future Me keeps paying long after Present Me has finished enjoying the fun. Whenever I'm unsure where a purchase belongs, I ask one question: will this make my financial life stronger a year from now, or will I still be paying for it?
Retailers didn't embrace BNPL out of concern for our budgeting skills; they embraced it because it works. Research from the National Bureau of Economic Research found that offering BNPL at checkout increases sales by roughly 20%, largely by nudging people to spend more than they otherwise would (Berg et al., 2024). The product hasn't changed, and your income hasn't changed; only the payment method has. That's why “$89 a month” feels far less alarming than “$2,500,” even though the math is identical.
A Word on Fraud Here's a related trend that concerns me, especially for older homeowners: be cautious when someone knocks on your door offering a new roof, windows, or solar panels for “only a few dollars a day.” Before signing, ask: did I think I needed this before the salesperson showed up? Sometimes yes. Roofs wear out. But sometimes the problem is manufactured right along with the financing, and a $25,000 renovation can sound reasonable when framed as “less than your cable bill.” Dad would have insisted on three quotes; Mom would have admired the enthusiasm. Listen to Dad: get multiple estimates, loop in someone you trust, and never sign on the spot. Read that again. Never sign on the spot!
The RRSP Parallel and What Retirees Should Watch For BNPL also parallels something I wrote about recently in Canada's RRSP Program Has Too Many Jobs. The Home Buyers' Plan looks nothing like Buy Now, Pay Later on the surface, but look closer, and they sound alike. Both solve today's problem by borrowing from tomorrow's resources. It's helped thousands get into homes, and homeownership remains one of the best long-term wealth builders. But every dollar pulled from an RRSP stops compounding for retirement. We celebrate the house and quietly forget the retirement income we gave up for it, Present Me negotiating a deal Future Me eventually must honour. And Future Me always shows up, whether we're ready or not.
It's tempting to think of BNPL as a young person's problem, but the psychological pull intensifies in retirement, not diminishes. When you're working, the next paycheque is a couple of weeks away. In retirement, every purchase competes with a finite pool of assets that may need to last thirty years. Financing groceries isn't a budgeting strategy; it's a signal that your income isn't keeping pace with your lifestyle. If every purchase starts with “what's the monthly payment?” instead of “can I actually afford this?” it's time to step back. I've long recommended imagining every purchase as a conversation with your retired self: would Future Me thank me, or wish I'd shown more restraint?
Isn't a Reverse Mortgage the Same Thing? Some readers wonder whether reverse mortgages belong in this conversation. I'd argue they're nearly the opposite. Both involve money today and repayment later, but that's where the similarity ends. BNPL borrows against tomorrow's income to finance today's consumption, while a reverse mortgage, used appropriately, converts wealth you've already built into retirement income. One asks Future Me to earn more; the other recognizes that Past Me already did the heavy lifting. There's a world of difference between borrowing against tomorrow and drawing on yesterday's success.
Whatever Happened to Paying Cash? Dad's advice was simple: if you can't pay cash, don't buy it. It's a little outdated now. Few of us carry cash anymore, and digital payments are so seamless that spending barely feels like spending. Tap, click, done. Maybe the rule just needs updating. Instead of “can I pay cash?” try “if I had to pay for this in full today, would I still buy it?” That shifts our focus from the monthly payment to the total cost and from affordability to value. BNPL isn't inherently good or bad; it's a tool like any other, and the real danger is forgetting that every financial decision is a negotiation between Present Me and Future Me.
What My Parents Really Taught Me Looking back, my parents weren't really arguing about money; they were arguing about time. Dad taught me the value of patience and living within my means, and he understood instinctively what behavioural economists would later prove: delaying gratification pays remarkable dividends. Mom taught me something just as important: that life isn't meant to be spent waiting forever, and that some experiences create memories no investment account can measure. The wisdom lies in knowing the difference. Retirement requires both the discipline to save while working and the wisdom to enjoy what you've built. Save every penny and never spend it, and you've missed the point, tragically. Spend it all before retirement arrives, and biology has a nasty habit of showing up right on schedule, winning every time, just as tragically.
Perhaps that's the real story behind Buy Now, Pay Later. It was never really about payment plans; it's about patience, priorities, and the lifelong conversation between who we are today and who we're becoming tomorrow. Present Me always gets the microphone, while Future Me waits quietly in the wings, hoping today's decisions leave something to work with. Next time you're offered four easy payments, ask the better question: will Future Me thank me for saying yes? Someday, Future Me becomes Present Me, and that's the day we find out whether today's purchase was an investment in our happiness or just another bill waiting, not so patiently, for retirement.
I have a feeling Dad would smile reading this, quietly certain he'd finally won the argument. Mom would smile too, already wondering if she could get that validation in four easy instalments, and still call it saving money.
Don’t Retire … Re-Wire!
Sue
Summary: Since its inception in 1957, the Registered Retirement Savings Plan (RRSP) has been a cornerstone of Canada’s retirement system. However, the RRSP has taken on roles far beyond its original mandate, notably through the Home Buyers’ Plan (HBP) and the Lifelong Learning Plan (LLP). Although these programs provide short-term benefits, they significantly damage the long-term health of Canadians' retirement savings. This article explores how these additional roles are sabotaging retirement savings, highlights statistics about the state of RRSPs today, and discusses the disastrous impact these trends will have on future retirees. If you’re 55 and wondering whether your RRSP is on track, the latest numbers may surprise you.
Recent data suggest that the average Canadian aged 55 has approximately $180,000 in their RRSP. But averages can be misleading because a relatively small number of very large accounts pull the number higher. A better measure of what most Canadians have actually saved is the median RRSP balance, which sits at approximately $146,000. In other words, half of Canadians have saved less than that.
Even after decades of tax-assisted saving, these balances are unlikely to generate the retirement income most Canadians will need.
That raises an important question.
How did one of Canada’s most successful retirement savings programs produce such modest results?
Part of the answer may be that we’ve quietly asked the RRSP to do far more than it was ever designed to do
The average senior aged 65 in Canada receives $19,547 per year from OAS and CPP. If qualified for GIS, they would receive another $13,478 annually, for a total of $33,025 annually. This isn't much income, especially for homeowners who must pay for property taxes, utilities, upkeep, and maintenance.
How it All Began At inception, the RRSP was called a Registered Retirement Annuity and was created in 1957. At the time, Canadians could contribute up to 10% of their income to a maximum of $2,500 annually. The goal was to give all Canadians the same tax benefits as members of registered employer-sponsored pension plans.
Benefits of the RRSP Plan
1. Tax-Deferral: Contributions to an RRSP are tax-deductible, which can reduce your tax bill.
2. Tax-Free Growth: Your savings grow tax-free while the money is in the plan.
3. Retroactive: You can carry forward any unused contribution room to future years.
The Multitasking Disaster Studies show that people are dreadful at multitasking; the same is true of government programs. Here is where the program went wrong. In 1992, the Home Buyer’s Plan (HBP) was made more flexible, which allowed first-time homebuyers to withdraw RRSP funds to buy a house. Then, in 1999, the Lifelong Learning Plan (LPP) was introduced, which permitted withdrawals to pay for education.
The Home Buyers' Plan (HBP) was not introduced in 1957 alongside the Registered Retirement Savings Plan (RRSP) creation. Instead, the HBP was introduced in 1992 as a federal initiative to help Canadians buy their first homes by allowing them to withdraw funds from their RRSPs without tax penalties as long as they met specific conditions. Here's a timeline of crucial HBP withdrawal limits since its inception:
Timeline of HBP and LLP Withdrawal Limits: 1992 - Introduction of the HBP
• Maximum Withdrawal Limit: $20,000 per individual.
• Purpose: To help first-time homebuyers purchase or build a home.
1999 – Introduction of Lifelong Learning Plan (LLP)
• The annual withdrawal limit is $10,000 per individual
• The lifetime withdrawal maximum is $20,000 per individual
2009 - First HBP increase
• New Limit: $25,000 per individual.
• The increase was introduced as part of federal budget changes to reflect rising housing costs.
2019 - Second HBP Increase
• New Limit: $35,000 per individual.
• Announced in the 2019 federal budget to support affordability for first-time homebuyers.
2019 -HBP Enhancement for Life Events
• The HBP was expanded to allow individuals experiencing a marriage or common-law partnership breakdown to participate, even if they were not first-time homebuyers.
2024 - Recent increase
• New Limit: $60,000 per individual.
• The increase was introduced as part of federal budget changes to reflect rising costs.
A Flawed Strategy The Home Buyers' Plan (HBP) and Lifelong Learning Plan (LLP) were introduced in Canada as tools to make housing and education more accessible. While well-intentioned, these programs effectively allow individuals to borrow from their future retirement savings—a strategy that can have significant negative consequences. Ask any high school economics student, and they will tell you that compromising two of the three main elements (principle and time) in investing growth will lead to a disappointing return. Here is the formula: principle X interest + time = compounded return.
⚠️ WARNING: Retirement Warning Using your RRSP to purchase a home or finance education may seem like a smart financial move. But remember, you’re withdrawing money from the very account designed to support you when you’re no longer earning an income. Lost time and compound growth can never be fully recovered.
Are We Borrowing From the Future to Pay for Today? The Problem with the Home Buyers’ Plan (HBP): Addressing Housing Affordability at the Expense of Retirement The HBP permits individuals to withdraw up to $60,000 from their RRSP to buy a first home.
In an environment of rising house prices, this measure may help buyers cobble together a down payment, but it drains retirement funds. The funds are unavailable to grow tax-free over decades, diminishing the compounding returns essential for retirement security.
The Problem with the Lifelong Learning Plan (LLP): Financing Education by Sacrificing Retirement The LLP allows up to $20,000 in RRSP withdrawals to fund education, which can help individuals upskill. However, education often doesn’t yield immediate returns, and the withdrawn funds lose their growth potential, including the compounded returns.
Why This Harms Future Retirees Issue #1: Loss of Compounding Growth Withdrawals disrupt the power of compounding, which is vital for retirement savings. For example, $35,000 left in an RRSP for 25 years at a 6% annual return could grow to over $150,000. If that same $35,000 were withdrawn 15 years ago and repaid over the same period as required by the HBP program, it would be worth $54,311, a loss of $95,689
Issue #2: Repayment Struggles While repayments are required, life’s expenses (mortgage, childcare, loans) often make it hard to repay on schedule. Failure to repay means the amount withdrawn is added to taxable income, further reducing the effectiveness of the programs.
Issue #3: Insufficient Savings Most Canadians are already under-saving for retirement. Encouraging them to dip into their RRSPs exacerbates this shortfall.
Two Different Problems. One Harmful Solution Housing Affordability Rising house prices are driven by supply-demand imbalances, speculation, and policy failures—not a lack of down payments. Increasing the HBP withdrawal limit does nothing to address the root causes of affordability, but it may drive prices higher by giving buyers more purchasing power.
Retirement Security Retirement savings should be preserved and grown to ensure financial stability in later years. Programs like HBP and LLP blur the line between short-term needs and long-term planning.
Why Would our Government Do This? Political Expediency Housing affordability and access to education are politically sensitive issues. Allowing individuals to tap into their RRSPs is a cost-neutral policy for the government (unlike direct subsidies or programs). Policies like these help politicians get elected or stay in office. And in proper political form, these policies only tell half the story. Vote for us because we will help you buy your first home, which is a great campaign strategy. Vote for us because we will make it look like we help you buy your first home when, in fact, we will set up a program that will allow you to borrow from yourself at the cost of your retirement, which is political suicide.
Short-Sighted Economic Policies Policymakers may believe that homeowners and educated individuals are more financially secure, even if their retirement savings are compromised. The logic might be that owning a home or having better job prospects could mitigate future hardship.
Assuming Home Equity is a Safety Net The government might assume that homeownership ensures financial stability in retirement. However, this overlooks that rising housing costs often mean seniors have high debt levels or are "house rich but cash poor."
The Bigger Problem with the HBP and LLP Programs: No Warnings or Education Given to Canadians Neither the HBP nor the LLP adequately informs individuals of the long-term consequences of their decisions. To make matters worse, the participants of these programs will likely realize the impact once it is too late to take action. People considering retirement are often in their late 50s to early 60s, past their prime saving years.
Borrowing from retirement accounts may seem like “borrowing from yourself,” but this lost growth can never be recouped. Many Canadians are not well enough informed to assess these trade-offs, leading to decisions that harm their financial future.
In Case You’re Thinking, These Seniors Have Inadequate Savings - But at They At Least their Homes. The HBP and LLP programs may reflect a government view that seniors would be better off owning a home than relying solely on inadequate savings. But this is flawed for a number of reasons:
A home is not a liquid asset—it cannot pay for groceries or healthcare. Also, Seniors with insufficient retirement savings often need help with financial distress despite owning property. They sometimes need reverse mortgages or sell their homes out of desperation.
An Unfortunate Misguided Solution Rather than “quick fixes” that appear to solve immediate challenges while creating long-term problems, the Federal government should instead focus on longer-term, systemic solutions
For housing: Governments need to curb speculative investments and provide targeted assistance for first-time buyers. Plus they need to focus on programs that increase housing supply, such as income tax incentives for homeowners to build accessory dwelling units (ADUs). These units could be rented out or used for caregivers. Or adopt a policy allowing first-time home buyers to not pay tax on their first $250,000 of income. First-time home buyers could use the tax savings as a down payment. The HST Rebate for eligible buyers of new homes introduced March 2026 is a start, not perfect, but it is a step in the right direction.
For Education: Governments need to expand grant programs and low-interest loans to prevent reliance on retirement funds. This will not only help us increase the number of skilled workers to fill critical gaps in vital sectors such as technology, healthcare engineering and the trades. It will also contribute to a higher GDP and build a more sustainable tax base for future generations.
Retirement savings should be treated as sacred capital, not a convenient source of funding for unrelated government priorities. Governments shouldn’t solve today’s problems by quietly asking Canadians to mortgage their retirement. Votes are counted on election night. The consequences aren’t counted until retirement.
Don’t Retire … Re-Wire!
Sue
Important: This article is intended for educational purposes only and does not constitute financial, mortgage, tax, legal, or investment advice. Before making decisions about your retirement or home equity, consult qualified professionals who can assess your personal circumstances.
Biology is ageist. There. I said it.
Young people have a biological clock that ticks toward new life. It is loud and urgent, and it comes with its own well-funded industry of apps, doctors, and anxious dinner-party conversations. Ours ticks too, but more quietly. Less “the nursery won’t paint itself” and more “the knees are filing a formal complaint.” Same clock. Wildly different countdown. Young people race toward a beginning. We are racing toward… what, exactly? That is the part nobody warned us about in the brochure.
I have been thinking about this clock a great deal lately, not in the abstract, philosophical, this-would-make-a-good-dinner-party-topic way. In the personal, slightly unsettling, why-am-I-like-this way. Because somewhere between turning seventy and watching my brother nearly run out of time entirely, I started to suspect that the clock is not just ticking quietly in the background of my life. It may be driving much of my behaviour, and not always in directions I am proud of.
At seventy, I have become mildly obsessed with squeezing every drop out of life. Partly because of the birthday. Partly because 33-year-old entrepreneur Steven Bartlett recently declared that a couple of glasses of wine can derail several days of optimal living, causing poor sleep, missed workouts, reduced productivity, and full-scale biological chaos. The internet, predictably, exploded. One side applauded his discipline. The other suggested he put down the smartwatch and pick up a personality (Bartlett, 2025). Then broadcaster Greg James offered a counterpoint worth sitting with maybe measuring every step, calorie, and heartbeat is not making us happier. Maybe it is making us anxious (James, 2025). Let that idea marinate.
It hit me harder than I expected. If I call balls and strikes here, I may have become a card-carrying member of Team Optimize. I teach fitness classes. I went back to school. I write books. I hike mountains. I track protein. I have voluntarily reached the age when discussing fibre intake is considered a contribution to the dinner conversation. Normal retirement behaviour, said no one ever. Apparently, I have a track record with this sort of thing. I have written before about my addiction to home improvement, the kind that finds a project the house did not actually need. Self-improvement, I am beginning to suspect, is the same compulsion wearing a different outfit. What I am exploring here is whether I am actually growing, or, as I am increasingly suspecting, just optimizing out of panic. So, I started asking myself an uncomfortable question, one that keeps circling back to that same clock. Am I pursuing excellence, or am I negotiating with my biological clock?
Researchers studying aging have found something fascinating about how that clock changes us. As people become increasingly aware that time is finite, their priorities shift: less interested in accumulating and more interested in meaning, less interested in status and more interested in relationships, and less interested in “someday” and more interested in today. Psychologist Laura Carstensen’s landmark work on socioemotional selectivity theory suggests that it is not age itself that changes us. Rather, it is our perception of the time we have remaining (Carstensen, 2006; Carstensen et al., 1999). I am not sure I have made that shift. Not fully. If I am honest, I wonder whether all the doing, the relentless forward motion, is less about passion and more about outrunning something. Maybe I think that if I keep running, Father Time will not catch me. I can smell a fool’s errand a mile away, and yet here I am, lacing up my shoes … possibly while listening to a podcast on slowing down.
I have a theory about this. I call it FORO, the Fear of Running Out. Most people assume it means Fear of Running Out of money, and money is certainly part of it. But lately I think money is just the socially acceptable thing we admit to worrying about. The less acceptable version is the fear of running out of time, energy, relevance, and chances to matter. FORO does not always show up as worry. Sometimes it shows up as motion. Another course. Another project. A new certification nobody asked for. A calendar so full it functions less as a planning tool and more as an alibi. If I cannot stop the running out, I can at least look busy while it happens. That is not ambition. That is panic, wearing a blazer and carrying a planner.
Then something happened that stopped the clock cold … or at least kept me from ignoring it.
Recently, one of my brothers suffered a massive heart attack. One moment, life was proceeding as planned. Next, he was in intensive care fighting for his life. Thankfully, he survived a quadruple bypass and is now on the long road to recovery. I am still processing it. Watching someone you love close to the edge clarifies things faster than any amount of journaling ever has. Suddenly, nobody is talking about productivity hacks or sleep scores. The conversation gets very simple. More time. More laughter. More family dinners. More life. His clock nearly ran out. Mine, presumably, has not. The question is what I plan to do with the difference.
And I sat with that, quietly, for a while. Because his heart attack did not just scare me. It held up a mirror. If the people who matter most to me were sitting across the table right now, would they say I have been present, or would they say I have been busy?
I am not sure I want to hear the answer.
But I think I already know it, because my wife Bonnie and my dog Dottie have been telling me for a while now, in their own ways. Bonnie has not complained, not really, though I have noticed the particular quiet of someone who has learned not to wait up and has become quite good at saving me half a plate of dinner without asking what kept me. That quiet has nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. Dottie has taken a more direct approach. She has started leaving passive-aggressive stuffed toys outside my office door, which I choose to interpret as a formal grievance filed by a ten-pound dog with excellent comic timing. Both have been waiting for me while I try to sort this out. But patience, like biology, has its limits.
Here is where I have landed, at least for now. Retirement, at its best, should be a contact sport: full-bodied, fully engaged, leaning into life with both hands. But there is a trade-off in the pursuit of optimization that no one puts on the inspirational poster. By filling every available hour with the next worthy initiative, I risk alienating the very people for whom “more life” was supposed to be. That is not ambition. That is a quietly self-sabotaging way of running out the clock on the wrong things. I do not have a tidy resolution. Maybe it means resisting the urge to add more simply because I can. What I keep coming back to is this: presence, being genuinely and unhurriedly present with the people I love, might be the optimization I have been overlooking all along. Not because it is hard to measure, but because it is hard to schedule, and even harder to admit I have been avoiding it.
What I want, at the end of the day, is to be as present as humanly possible. Not present in the mindfulness app, remember-to-breathe sense. Actually present. Available. Unhurried. With Bonnie. With Dottie. With the people who have been waiting for me to look up.
I am not going to pretend I have made this shift. I have not. But I have started doing something that feels different from doing nothing while thinking deeply about it, and I will take the small win. I dropped one school course this term. I have started leaving my phone in another room during dinner, which Dottie has not noticed, but Bonnie absolutely has. I am trying to ask myself, before I say yes to the next worthy thing, whether I want it or whether some part of me is still trying to outrun a clock that cannot be outrun. Some days I catch myself in time. Other days I sign up for the nine-week certificate anyway and figure it out later. Progress, not perfection.
If you are reading this and recognize yourself, or someone you love, the invitation is not to overhaul your entire life by Tuesday, or to ask them to. It is to ask the same question I am still learning to ask. The next time your calendar fills with another worthy thing, pause and ask who benefits from that time. If the honest answer is mostly you, and mostly in a way that keeps you safely too busy to sit still with the people who love you, that might be worth a second look. Not guilt. Just a look.
Which brings me back to the clock, because it always does. The biological clock of aging is not warning us that time is running out. It is reminding us that time is valuable, and that the people keeping time with us deserve more of it than the leftovers.
Young people hear the clock and ask, “When should I start?” Older people hear the clock and ask, “What am I waiting for?” I think I finally know the answer. It is not another course. It is not another goal. It is them. Turns out the clock was never my enemy. It has been my alarm, going off for months while I kept hitting snooze and signing up for another nine-week certificate instead. The good news is I have finally found a project worth finishing. The bad news is it does not come with a certificate of completion, only my loved ones and whatever time the clock decides to give me to enjoy them. Biology may be ageist, but it is also, infuriatingly, right.
Sue
Don’t Retire…ReWire!
My Book is Now Available for Pre-Order I hope you will consider pre-ordering a copy of Your Retirement Reset for you, a friend or loved one. It's available September 8, 2026 published by ECW Press - You can now order at Indigo or Amazon. And if you love supporting Canadian booksellers, please also check with your local independent bookstore. Most can easily order it for you.
