I Have No Retirement Plan, No Backup, And Honestly No Idea What Comes Next

Most Gen-Xers are looking forward to retiring in the next few years. Unfortunately, I’m not one of them. Before you begin to think that I have a fabulous, high-paying career that I’m absolutely in love with and want to do until I take my last breath, let me hit you with the hard facts.

Years of hardcore drug use in my late twenties and early thirties, while living in New York City during its dicier years, destroyed any chance of building either a stable career or the beginning of any financial plan. Although I finally kicked the monkey off my back in 1999, I replaced it with the bottle.

I went from dead-end job to dead-end job, mostly in the printing and reprographics industry. An average workweek was 60+ hours, all for low pay, high stress, while working for the most narcissistic men on the planet. 

While some of these jobs did include a 401(k) plan, my employers didn’t match any contributions. Since I earned so little, I needed every penny of my paycheck to cover my monthly bills.

At 60, I have no retirement plan, no backup, and honestly, no idea what comes next

Sweet Life / Unsplash

Due to boatloads of unresolved childhood trauma, I believed that I was unworthy of a good job and that abundance would be something that I’d never experience. I’d tackled that later in life, but the stuffing of my feelings did nothing to help me move forward in life. 

Despite living a clean and sober lifestyle, I was miserable and working for miserable people. By the end of the month, my bank account would be down to double digits.

Eventually, I quit my job and worked full-time as an Uber and Lyft driver. I loved the independence of it, and although I did fairly well, most of my profit was eaten up by gasoline, oil changes, car washes, and new tires every six months. Once the pandemic hit and profitable rides disappeared, I went on unemployment like a lot of other independent contractors.

In late 2019, I slipped into a horrible depression, the worst one I’ve ever experienced. In the wee hours of the night, a voice spoke to me, saying I should go to Peru and that I’d find my salvation in the Jungle. As a last-ditch effort to save my sanity, I maxed out my credit card and did as I was instructed. Fortunately, it saved my life.

With a renewed love of life, in September 2020, I quietly snuck into Spain during the global lockdown and never left. Last December, I was granted permanent Spanish residency. 

During my first two years in Barcelona, I self-published two books while supporting myself as a freelance content writer. Shortly after that, my main client offered me a full-time salaried position, which I gladly accepted. With a steady salary, I wrote and self-published a third book.

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Here I am, two years after accepting their offer, and I still have no feasible retirement plan

I don’t hate my job, and this is the first time in my life that I can say that without lying. For what I’m earning each month, if I still lived in the States, I’d be homeless or sleeping on a friend’s couch. But for Spain, it provides me with more than what I need to get by and then some.

With retirement age just a few years away, I do find myself longing for the life of a pensioner. I’ve worked so hard my entire life and have very little to show for it financially. However, I’m content with what I do to earn a living. I’m a remote worker, and my employer treats me with respect, something I’ve never had despite four decades as a hard-working worker bee.

I’ve looked into what Social Security would pay me at age 65, and it would be about half of what I’m currently earning. That would put me at the poverty level, and there’s no way in hell that I’m going back to living like that.

Fortunately, I’m quite happy writing content for my employer. My bills are paid, and there’s extra left over at the month’s end. I’ve built up a nice little nest egg of savings, but nowhere near what I’d need to retire. 

Is there anything wrong with working until you drop, even if it’s not your dream job?

I’m beginning to see that I don’t have any other choice. Working well into my sixties and seventies isn’t something I want to do, but if the work isn’t horrible and my life is good, I guess it’s not so bad.

Although I do earn money each month from the sales of my three books, at this time, they’re more of a nice supplement to my income and not an actual healthy revenue stream. I joke with my partner and friends that once one of my books becomes a bestseller, I’ll finally retire. I'm hoping that day comes soon.

For a guy who beat two addictions, struggled to get by for years, battled depression, fought his demons in the Peruvian Amazon and won, changed countries, and wrote three books, I probably shouldn’t rule anything out. My most painful life lessons have been my best teachers, and boy, have I learned a lot.

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Michael Cline is a Barcelona-based writer and contributor to YourTango. He's written three books and writes about addiction, recovery, mental health, and life as a U.S. citizen living in Spain.