How relevance deprivation syndrome has liberated me in my retirement

‘And since retiring I’ve blissfully, ruthlessly excised all those tedious tasks, projects and timetables – enthusiastically casting them to the winds.’ Photograph: Morsa Images/Getty Images

The human being is a complicated beast, and many of us suffer from all kinds of syndromes and complexes. In this era of measuring, naming and documenting everything, the experts keep coming up with ever more conditions for us to worry about.

Take Stendhal Syndrome, AKA Florence Syndrome. It has you fainting and possibly hallucinating when exposed to great beauty. And we’ve all heard of Fomo – the ever-present fear of missing out. The latter condition is fuelled by social media, and Facebook in particular. I can’t stand seeing friends posting about their fabulous trek through the foothills of Nepal, their Greek Islands pleasure cruise, or even their hip replacement. I want what they’re having.

I’m also affected by Nomophobia – the fear of being without your mobile phone. The symptoms include irritation (tick), stress (tick) and panic (tick) when you can’t find your phone. You get shaky, sweaty and short of breath. Of course, I’m pretty irritated, stressed and shaky about most things these days, and let’s face it, my phone is just one of many things I can’t find (keys, sunglasses, purse, the cat).

And we’re all suffering from Google Effect or Digital Amnesia. Why remember information you can find online? I used to know that Managua is the capital of Nicaragua, and look where that got me.

So imagine my anxiety when I discover another ailment called “relevance deprivation syndrome”. Apparently this happens to people when they retire. They grieve about the things they lost when they ditched paid work – things like structure in their day, social networks, intellectual challenges, tasks, projects, and timetables. They’re overwhelmed by feelings of incompetence.

I realise that there must be something wrong with me. I’m the opposite. I have Reduced Relevance Relief Syndrome (or RRRS).

At the end of my working life, I fantasised about endless days without structure or relevance. Days when I could pick up my guitar at will, paint a picture, phone a friend. As for social networks, I’m beating dear old friends off with a stick. I guess my social networks transcend and supplement those special work friendships. I simply adore having the time to ride my bike to catch up with a pal over a coffee.

I am now free to fully lean into my incompetence – a pleasure denied to me when working and suffering from Impostor Syndrome. Don’t ask.

The “gift of time” bestowed upon me by retirement allows me to puzzle over the cryptic crossword for hours and devour the books I always meant to when I was working – so there are more than enough intellectual challenges on offer.

And since retiring I’ve blissfully, ruthlessly excised all those tedious tasks, projects and timetables – enthusiastically casting them to the winds. I’m no longer on that treadmill, thank you.

There’s only one phobia I need to work on in the long and lazy retirement I predict for myself. It was identified in 2011 as FORO – the fear of running out (of money). In these days of global markets, increasingly uncertain superannuation returns and the rising cost of living, this is a real and present fear. So I’ll confess, I watch my spending and practise a modicum of fiscal restraint.

But I’ll still be riding my bike, chatting with friends and strumming the guitar.

• Sue Wighton is a Brisbane writer