The Quiet Crisis Before Retirement

The common worries people feel before retirement, and how this stage eventually comes to everyone.

Lately, I’ve been curious about something I’ve seen in other people—the quiet crisis that appears before retirement. It’s not dramatic. It usually begins with a small question in their mind: “What happens after all of this?” And watching them face it makes you realize that sooner or later, every one of us will reach that same turning point.

You can see how long-time workers start to shift inside. They’ve spent years carrying responsibilities, solving problems, and being the steady presence everyone depends on. So when retirement comes into view, the whole idea feels unfamiliar. Not frightening, not sad—just a different rhythm they haven’t tried before.

Then the deeper questions follow.

What will my days look like?
Will I still feel useful?
Who am I when the routine slows down?

People call this a pre-retirement crisis. It’s not a breakdown. It’s the heart adjusting after decades of structure and purpose. When someone has poured so much of their life into work, stepping away from that rhythm naturally creates a pause.

But retirement isn’t an ending. It’s a shift in tempo. A season where people can choose their own pace, their own mornings, and their own kind of purpose. They don’t lose themselves—they just begin shaping a personal chapter that’s been waiting in the background for years.

Maybe this whole phase is life giving them space to prepare for that new chapter—one that finally belongs to them after giving so much to everyone else.

Old • Darem Placer

Thoughts drift like clouds across a fading sky—until I find myself in a quiet room—Alone With a Piano.

Listen to Alone With a Piano on Apple Music and YouTube Music

Alone with a Piano includes Old.

⌨ ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ

Compare, but Don’t Crush Yourself

Sometimes comparison isn’t the enemy. It can teach gratitude, direction, and the quiet rhythm of growing better.

People keep saying, “Don’t compare yourself with others.”

But you know, sometimes comparing helps—if you know how to do it right.

Like if you can’t dance that well, try looking at someone who can’t even stand. Suddenly you’ll feel thankful you’ve got two legs that still move to the beat. It changes the whole story in your head. Gratitude kicks in, quietly.

And when you want to get better, don’t stare at the pros yet. They’re too far ahead—you’ll just feel tired. Look at someone just one level higher. Someone whose moves you can almost reach. That kind of comparing—it kind of pulls you forward, doesn’t push you down.

And it’s not really about competing. It’s more like tuning yourself, slowly. You adjust a bit here, a bit there, until one day you sound better than yesterday.

So yeah, compare. But don’t crush yourself. Compare to stay thankful. Compare to keep growing. Compare to remind yourself you’re still dancing.

Lonely on the Dance Floor • Darem Placer
Joyless includes Lonely on the Dance Floor. Soon on Bandcamp.

⌨ ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ