Todays post is admittedly a little of the track from my “usual” posts – if there is such a thing. This is a concept that many people will no doubt say that it doesn’t apply to them in the least. After all, I know what I want out of life, and always have. But underneath it all, we all subconsciosly copy others. Their ideas, their desires, and more. Stay openminded and hear me out!

One of the strangest things about retirement isn’t the free time, the lack of a commute, or even the sudden realization that Tuesday feels exactly like Saturday. It’s this uncomfortable question that sneaks up on you when the noise finally dies down:

Why did I want what I spent my whole life chasing?

I hear this from retirees more often than you might think. They did everything “right.” Worked hard. Saved diligently. Hit the milestones. And yet, once the gold watch moment passes, something feels… off. Not wrong exactly. Just hollow.

It turns out this feeling has a name—and a surprisingly powerful explanation.

In his book Wanting: The Power of Mimetic Desire in Everyday Life, Luke Burgis explores a simple but unsettling idea: most of us don’t truly choose our desires—we copy them. And if we don’t understand that, we can spend decades chasing goals that were never really ours to begin with.

That’s not just a philosophical problem. In retirement, it can become a deeply personal one.

Why We Want What We Want (Or Think We Do)

We like to believe we’re independent thinkers. Self-made. Rational. Immune to peer pressure after high school. But the truth is, humans are professional imitators.

We learn what’s valuable by watching other people value it.

We want the career because respected people want it.
We want the bigger house because everyone else seems to be upgrading.
We want the recognition because it signals that we “made it.”

This is what Burgis calls mimetic desire, desire formed by imitation. We don’t just want things; we want things because other people want them.

Here’s the dangerous part: once we absorb someone else’s desire, we usually forget where it came from. We tell ourselves a comforting story that it was our idea all along.

By the time retirement arrives, many people realize they were chasing a script rather than a calling.

The Retirement Wake-Up Call

During your working years, mimetic desire has a built-in disguise. It wears productivity, ambition, and responsibility like a nice suit. Society applauds you for wanting more. No one questions it. We all like money, some of us more than others.

But retirement removes the costume.

Suddenly, there’s no boss to impress, no ladder to climb, no quarterly target demanding your attention. That’s when the old desires either deepen, or collapse entirely.

I’ve spoken with retirees who reached financial security only to discover they didn’t actually want the lifestyle they’d imagined. The big house feels like work. The luxury car feels unnecessary. The endless travel feels oddly exhausting.

They didn’t fail at retirement. They succeeded at someone else’s version of success.

The Danger of “Thin” Desires

Burgis makes a distinction that I think every retiree should understand: thin desires versus thick desires.

Thin desires are the ones we absorb from the outside. They’re highly contagious and socially reinforced. Status. Prestige. Applause. Numbers on a statement. Titles on a business card. They feel urgent and important—until you get them.

Then they evaporate.

Thick desires, on the other hand, come from lived experience. They grow slowly. They’re tied to meaning, contribution, curiosity, and relationships. They don’t photograph well, but they last.

The danger isn’t wanting nice things or financial comfort. The danger is building your entire life around thin desires without realizing it. Because thin desires don’t sustain a long retirement. They leave you restless, bored, or quietly disappointed.

And boredom in retirement isn’t about having nothing to do. It’s about not knowing what you actually care about.

Why Comparison Gets Worse After Retirement

You’d think comparison would fade once you stop working. In reality, it often gets worse.

Now you’re comparing:
Who travels more
Who seems happier
Who looks healthier
Who “retired better”

Social media pours gasoline on this fire. Suddenly, everyone else appears to have figured out the perfect retirement—while you’re wondering why pickleball didn’t magically solve everything.

This isn’t because you’re ungrateful. It’s because mimetic desire doesn’t retire when you do.

If anything, it becomes more dangerous when you have fewer external structures guiding your days. Without awareness, retirement becomes a competition no one signed up for.

The Rivalry Trap and How to Avoid it

Here’s something Burgis explains beautifully, and once you see it, you can’t unsee it: competition doesn’t come from difference, it comes from sameness.

We don’t envy people with completely different lives. We envy people who are just close enough to trigger comparison. Same neighborhood. Same age. Same income range. Same retirement window.

That’s why rivalries feel so personal. We’re not just wanting something—we’re wanting it instead of someone else.

In retirement, this can quietly poison friendships, families, and even marriages. You start measuring joy instead of experiencing it.

That’s a terrible way to spend the most hard-earned years of your life.

Learning to Question Desire (Without Killing It)

The goal isn’t to eliminate desire. Desire is energy. It’s what keeps retirement alive rather than stagnant.

The goal is to interrogate desire gently but honestly.

When something suddenly feels important, ask yourself:
Where did this come from?
Who modeled this desire for me?
Would I still want this if no one else saw it?
Does this energize me—or impress others?

These aren’t judgment questions. They’re clarity questions.

Retirement gives you something incredibly rare: the chance to choose your desires intentionally rather than inheriting them unconsciously.

Choosing Better Models

One of Burgis’s most hopeful ideas is that the solution to mimetic desire isn’t isolation, it’s better imitation.

We will always imitate. The question is who.

Instead of copying the loudest, richest, flashiest models, retirees thrive when they imitate people who demonstrate:
Calm rather than constant motion
Depth rather than accumulation
Contribution rather than consumption
Peace rather than performance

These people don’t always get attention—but they get something better: contentment.

A Better Question for Retirement

Instead of asking, “What do I want now?” try asking:
“What kind of person do I want to become?”
“What feels meaningful even when no one is watching?”
“What desires still make sense when comparison disappears?”

Those questions lead to thicker desires—and thicker lives.

Final Thoughts

Retirement isn’t just a financial transition. It’s a psychological one. And nothing shapes that transition more than understanding why you want what you want.

If you don’t examine your desires, you may spend retirement chasing new versions of old goals that never truly satisfied you in the first place.

But if you do examine them—carefully, honestly, and without shame—retirement becomes something far richer than rest.

It becomes a life that finally feels like it belongs to you.

Don’t wait until it’s too late, get your financial house in order today!

Happy retirement planning!