Posted: Jan. 29, 2012 | 2:02 a.m.

When the Rev. Jerry Blankinship retired as chaplain at Sunrise
Hospital and Medical Center, it felt right.

"I had worked for almost 50 years in one pastoral ministry or
another and 32 years at Sunrise as chaplain," says Blankinship,
78, who even had waited until he was almost 75 to retire
because, at 65, "I didn't feel like retiring at all.

"But I just felt -- I don't know how to put it, except to say
that enough is enough. It was time."

So, just more than 2½ years ago, Blankinship retired. Two
months later, he began to feel physically and mentally
exhausted. Adrift. Depressed.

All about doing something millions of American worker bees
dream about, the good Lord and Social Security willing, doing
themselves someday.

It turns out that retirement can be a tough transition, at
least for some prospective retirees, and Blankinship's reaction
to the prospect of days upon months upon years of clockless
free time isn't uncommon.

The problem often begins when prospective retirees think of
retirement only in terms of subtraction, by eliminating the
responsibilities of a job from their lives but not thinking
about what they might replace it with.

"I think a lot of it is people often want to get off the
treadmill, they want to get out of the grind," says Dr. Lisa
Rosenberg, a geriatrics specialist and assistant professor of
medicine at Touro University Nevada College of Osteopathic
Medicine. "But, for many people, their plan is not to do
anything, and that's not good for us physically or mentally."

Inactivity can make retirees "prone to depression" and diminish
"cognition, our ability to think and remember and process," she
says. "Our brains are like anything else: We lose our abilities
if we don't continue to use what we have."

Generally speaking -- and ignoring the issue of money, which,
alone, can go a long way toward shaping a retirement -- "the
people who are most successful in retirement ... are people who
have a plan of what to do with their time," Rosenberg says.

Some prospective retirees approach retirement with "almost like
a vacation mentality," notes Donna Wilburn, a licensed marriage
and family therapist.

"When you go into retirement, you expect it to feel like a
vacation. Then you are going through the honeymoon phase, which
feels like a vacation and might be one month or six months. But
once reality hits you that you're not going back, then you have
to restructure your identity: What am I supposed to do for the
next 20 years?

"Now it hits you. You feel empty. You don't feel like you have
a purpose. You feel kind of aimless," Wilburn says. "And people
are not expecting that. There's no retirement counseling, that,
'OK, you're ready to retire. We're going to send you to a
counselor so you can understand the process.' "

Blankinship felt more than ready to begin this new phase in his
life, joking that he even had studied geriatric issues as part
of his counseling training. He felt fortunate that he was
retiring on his own schedule, that his finances were in place,
and that he had activities and friends to keep him busy.

But what Blankinship didn't expect was discovering how strongly
he was "self-identified by my job. And when I was no longer
senior chaplain at Sunrise Hospital, I began to wonder, 'Who
the heck am I?' and 'Who am I now?'

"I had defined myself by what I did, like I think most people
do. We define ourselves by what we do, and when you aren't
doing something, then there's kind of a moment where you say,
'My gosh, who am I?' And, I became depressed."

It's not uncommon, Wilburn says. For some newly minted
retirees, "the loss of identity and purpose is huge. It can
trigger a major depression."

Men tend to do it more often than women, Wilburn says, while
Rosenberg notes that it is particularly common among
professionals.

"A lot of businesspeople, doctors and lawyers are kind of
classic people who can't let go because their identity is very
much tied to what they got paid for," Rosenberg says. "So, it's
healthy even before retirement to have other outlets -- an
artistic outlet or a strong network of friends -- because if
your whole life is work and you leave, you're really stuck
starting over."

Doctors, teachers, ministers and others in helping professions
also may find themselves more susceptible to a rougher
transition from workplace to retirement.

"They've become very accustomed to people needing them, and it
can be quite addicting to feel needed," Rosenberg says. "So if
people are used to feeling needed and appreciated ... people
can miss that."

Not even a two-month transition period during which Blankinship
worked part time with his successor helped to ease his
transition into retirement.

"The day I turned in my keys and beeper, it was a loss," he
says. "It was a period of grief. I came home and didn't know
what to do with myself. I was depressed and I was sleeping,
like, 12 or 14 hours a day. I was so tired."

The sudden separation from daily contact with workplace friends
and colleagues -- "the interplay, the camaraderie" -- also hit
home, Blankinship recalls. "All I wanted to do was sleep.

"Then I went to see a doctor -- my regular family doctor -- and
he nailed it when he said, 'You're in a grieving process.' "

Janice Alpern, 72, retired in 2006 from her job as a customer
service representative for the Las Vegas Valley Water District.
When she retired, Alpern discovered that a paycheck represents
more than money.

"One of the first feelings was the paycheck and that you have
no worth without a paycheck," she explains. "That was my
feeling: That you do something, you get your paycheck, and that
was a reward for your hard work and you earned your reward."

Like Blankinship, Alpern loved her job and was confident that
it was time to move on. But she, too, was surprised to find
that she missed the routine of her job, the people with whom
she worked and the satisfaction she gained from doing her job
well.

Then there was the matter of simply filling a large chunk of
time each day. "The week loomed large," Alpern says, "and I
didn't know how to fill it."

Then, Alpern heard about the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute
at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. She signed up for a few
programs and, during an open house, saw a booth for the Nevada
AARP and became a volunteer for the organization.

Alpern notes that most workers who are planning to retire
review their finances and the other nuts-and-bolts aspects of
living without a regular paycheck. But, she says, few take the
time to figure out what they'll actually do during retirement.

"So many of us are living longer," she says, "and you need to
fill your time in meaningful ways."

Margaret "Peg" Rees, vice provost for educational outreach at
the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, says new retirees who are
seeking activities to pursue in retirement often do begin with
classes and programs offered through UNLV.

"I think people just switch their energy into new directions,"
she says. "Some cook, some come back to school to get retooled,
some take professional development classes and some go off in
an entirely new employment direction. Even when we look at the
university/academic side, we have people that are in their 70s
and 80s finishing their degrees because that's something
they've never been able to do and, now, want to and have the
time and resources to do it."

Also beneficial, Rees says, is that such programs offer
retirees a reason to get out of the house and a way to make
social contacts. (For more information, visit http://continuingeducation.unlv.edu
or call 895-5486.)

Social isolation can lead retirees into depression, Rosenberg
notes. "People who have strong social ties tend to be
physically and mentally healthier. Isolation is bad."

Blankinship toughed out his depression for about three months.
Then, he says, "a pastor friend of mine took me out to lunch
and said, 'How are you doing?' I said I wasn't doing very
good.' "

The friend suggested that Blankinship take on a bit -- just a
little bit -- of volunteer work. Blankinship did, "just a
couple (of) hours of work a week at the church" and doing a few
home visits.

"The thing I discovered is that there needs to be some routine
in your life. The difference between working and not working
is, the routine is optional, but it's still important," he
says.

Today, Blankinship schedules standing get-togethers -- lunches,
dinners and other events -- with friends and family. He
volunteers. He reads (mostly history), takes in movies ("I've
seen probably more movies in the three years since I retired
than I did the 32 years I was at Sunrise" ) and has more easily
embraced the new rhythms of retired life. Also, helping to
reinforce his daily routine is caring for Glamis, his
enthusiastically friendly mixed-breed dog.

Blankinship says he now enjoys retirement, largely because he
has been able to create a new identity for himself that isn't
built upon what he does.

"Little by little, through the help of some friends, not so
much intentionally but just by accident of nature, I began to
realize that who I am is not dependent on what I do, that who I
am is who I am," he says. "I'm a father. I'm a grandfather. I'm
a friend. It doesn't have to do with academic degrees or clergy
ordination."

Based on her own experience, Alpern suggests that those who are
considering retirement give serious thought about how they wish
to spend it. She also suggests checking resources such as those
at UNLV "ahead of time," and urges prospective retirees to "not
be one-dimensional" but, instead, seek out a variety of
interests to pursue.

Rosenberg suggests building social networks through clubs,
alumni groups and professional organizations before retiring,
while Blankinship urges prospective retirees to give as much
thought to the emotional aspects of retirement as they do to
their finances and other basic necessities of retirement.

And, Blankinship suggests, think positively.

"I would think you need to look at the glass as half-full," he
says. "I think we all could complain about things, but what
good does that get you?"

In fact, Blankinship now realizes that one of retirement's
blessings is the array of choices it offers.

"I think when I first was retired, I didn't realize how many
choices I had," he says, smiling. "You've got zillions of
choices. You could do anything."

These days, when Blankinship stops by the hospital to visit
somebody, "everybody is glad to see me and they say, 'Would you
ever think of coming back?' "

Blankinship laughs. "No. No, no, no."

Contact reporter John Przybys at jprzybys@reviewjournal.com or
702-383-0280.

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Transition To Retirement Can Leave People Feeling Unmoored