“If the beginning is so difficult,” as Louise Glück put it in one of her last poems, “imagine what it will be like to finish.” This question was on my mind recently when a friend surprised me by he asked me what I thought the last session with my patients in psychoanalysis would be like. For many, the decision to retire can be a relief. For others it can seem like a threatening burden. It depends on the factors involved. In a world of low-paying, often unpleasant and unrewarding jobs, retirement is considered highly desirable; However, a surprisingly high percentage of people retire unexpectedly because they have little or no control over their exit conditions.
The impact of retirement on mental health is a growing concern. According to the National Statistics Institute (INE), the population over 64 years old in Spain amounted to 9.5 million people in January 2022 – almost 20% of the population. Several EU countries have raised the retirement age and reduced the generosity of pension protocols as population growth and increasing life expectancy have put enormous pressure on social systems. While reforms that prevent early retirement could contribute to the sustainability of public finances, they also risk deteriorating the quality of life of retirees.
We hope that retirement will eliminate work-related stress and precarious work environments, that retirees will have more free time and opportunities to participate in motivating activities such as sports and expand their social contacts, which would have a positive impact on mental health. However, it can also bring significant stressful changes that have a negative impact on you: the loss of interaction with colleagues and other contacts and related activities. We leave our identity behind, as was the case in our professions: labeled, measured, respected and rewarded by the outside world – although unfortunately in many cases this is not the case. Additionally, lower income creates uncertainty and requires a readjustment of expectations at a time when one is ironically “free” to consider activities such as travel. Consequently, these lifestyle changes, coupled with deterioration of the body and potentially poor health, can have negative effects.
The good news is that advancing age tends to bring about a slow and mysterious but powerful change in the inner forces that drive us to create. It is very likely that the time limit represents a pressure, an incentive, that plays a crucial role in the creativity of many long-lived artists. How did Matisse manage to avoid falling into the abyss of depression and create his most surprising collages in bed or in a wheelchair, while at the same time caring for his various chronic ailments with a certain devotion? Artistic creativity does not prevent aging of the body, nor does it preserve mental agility or spirit of adventure; The explanation of the impetuous art of the great creators must be sought elsewhere. What does psychoanalysis say about the emergence of this dawn? Perhaps the key is to be able to grieve over missed opportunities and come to terms with the prospect of one’s own death, allowing each phase to be experienced as something new.
There is also the inevitable consequence that longevity provides an opportunity for experimentation and learning. Goya’s drawing “I Still Learn”, taken from his exile in Bordeaux, is a symbolic self-portrait that has become a reference for the spirit of the octogenarian artist, expressing his unwavering desire for personal improvement. Edward Said, a pioneer of postcolonial studies, now considers it a “late style,” the way in which the works of some great artists acquire a new language toward the end of their lives. And what if age and illness do not produce the serenity of maturity? This is the case with Ibsen, whose final works destroy the artist’s career and craft. Far from finding a solution, they suggest an angry and disturbed artist for whom the dramatic medium offers an opportunity to evoke even more fears and leave audiences even more perplexed than before. According to Said, the late style here implies “an inharmonious, non-serene tension and, above all, a kind of deliberately unproductive productivity that is directed against….”
But the prerogative of those who carry on is different. Samuel Beckett sums it up: “I cannot carry on. I will continue.” As I grow older, these reflections lead me to my friend’s question: Time, loss and grief are essential parts of every psychoanalysis, from beginning to end. In the words of psychoanalyst Jean Laplanche: “The goal of psychoanalysis is to to put an end to it so that a new life can begin.”
David Dorenbaum He is a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst.
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