Gen X, 65 million Americans born between 1965 and 1980, is fast approaching retirement, and unlike the boomers before them, they’re the first generation whose retirement rests on a 401(k) rather than a pension. Only 14% of Gen X workers have a traditional pension, compared with 56% of baby boomers.
And as latchkey kids, Gen X grew up to be the workhorses: the generation most likely to define themselves by output and impact, and the least likely to ask for help. Just 26% of Gen Xers work with a financial advisor, compared with 43% of boomers. These two facts drastically change what retirement looks like for this generation.
Which is why, for many, it doesn’t feel like an invitation. It feels like a threat to their identity — and a challenge unlike any they’ve faced: turning decades of savings into an income stream. A hurdle where they may have to ask for help — something they’re not used to doing.
The biggest retirement shift in a generation is starting to happen and once again, nobody’s watching. A generation sandwiched between the boomers and the millennials, Gen X built careers in the gaps, ran companies from the middle, grinding away while everyone else got the headlines.
I should know. I’m a Gen Xer. Born in 1967, I’m a bona fide latchkey kid. My mother was a registered nurse, and every day after school I unlocked the door for myself and my two younger siblings, got us a snack, and watched The Brady Bunch. I built my career from the ground up and spent more than two decades in the 401(k) industry, helping Fortune 500 companies design their plans—then retired four-and-a-half years ago.
Why Gen X Says “One More Year”: Net-Worth and Self-Worth
If you spend time with Gen Xers nearing retirement, you’ll likely hear this line: “One more year.” But it’s not a plan—it’s a stall. “One more year” is two questions in disguise—one about money, one about identity.
Net worth gets all the attention in retirement planning. But self-worth is the other barrier, the one nobody talks about, and it holds people back just as much. Solve for both, and “one more year” becomes this year.
I know because this would have been me had it not been for a voluntary buyout offer I received. Former colleagues — older than me, and after decades as senior executives, likely better positioned to retire than I was — didn’t take it. Many expressed to me they didn’t know how they’d fill their time and it was easier to keep working than to deal with those existential questions.
Net worth
Gen X has no pension-eligible retirement date. That 401(k) balance, large or small, never reads “this is enough.” It fluctuates with the market, and raises daunting questions: Annuitize? Bucket strategy? Stay in plan or roll to an IRA? Convert to Roth? When to take Social Security?
Rather than dig into those daunting questions, “one more year” becomes seductive. It feels like prudence. But it’s often fear wearing prudence as a costume.
Gen X spent 40 years accumulating—most heeded the advice: take the company match, don’t take loans, don’t cash out when changing jobs, and let compounding do the work. And for many, it did. The average 401(k) balance for Gen Xers is $215,600, but when you look at Gen X’ers who continuously contributed to their plan for 15 years it jumps to $648,800.
But now they have to shift gears. Accumulation was an automated habit, every paycheck, money socked away without a thought. Decumulation is the opposite: withdrawing for the first time and no paycheck refilling it. It feels like a leap of faith.
I know because I experienced a worst-case scenario in my first year. I retired in December 2021 and the S&P 500 fell 19.4% in 2022. My portfolio was designed to sustain such drops, but it was hard to stomach, knowing I wasn’t refilling my pot.
Self worth
When a workhorse can no longer pull its load, it loses its defining purpose. Historically, that meant being put out to pasture, or worse. Its value was tied to its function.
Gen X learned to rely on themselves before they were old enough to know that was unusual. Self-reliance wasn’t a value they adopted; it was all they knew. As they grew up, that competence—being capable, being needed, being the one who handles it—moved from the front stoop to the job and became the core of who they are. Their careers turned into the scoreboard of an identity built on “getting ’er done.”
So retiring isn’t just an income-stream challenge; for many it’s an identity crisis. An advisor can run the Monte Carlo simulations a thousand times and show the plan succeeds in 95 of 100 scenarios—and they’ll still hesitate. Because the question they can’t quite articulate is “who am I when I’m no longer the one with the answers, the one who gets ’er done?”
“One more year” postpones both—the drawdown and the identity reckoning. That’s why showing them the numbers is rarely enough. The numbers were never the only thing.
I know this now. After spending decades in the 401(k) industry, retirement prep was all financial: solve for that and you’re ready. I thought retirement was the ultimate vacation. But when I retired, I learned it was nothing like any vacation I’ve ever taken — a vacation is an escape from your life. Retirement is your life.
That left me asking not just “What now?” but “Who am I now?” One friend described being attending her retirement party as like “being alive at your own funeral.”
Most people don’t talk about this. I thought it was just me — it wasn’t. I took to social media, shared my struggle, and overnight my first video received 80,000 views — many felt the way I did. As a bona fide Gen Xer, this was a gap, and I was going to figure it out.
Workhorse or Thoroughbred?
What Gen X became, over four decades of figuring it out, isn’t a workhorse, it’s a thoroughbred. When thoroughbreds come off the track, they don’t get put out to pasture; they’re too valuable. They find new ground: dressage, jumping, trail riding. Same horse. Same fire. Different course. But even thoroughbreds need trainers.
The most valuable thing an advisor can offer isn’t a sharper projection. It’s permission, backed by a financial plan that works. Three out of four Gen Xers don’t have an advisor today, but they’re going to need help. The latchkey kids taught themselves to unlock the front door. This is one door they shouldn’t have to open alone. Advisors should be there to say: You have enough. You’ve done enough. You can stop now. At last, someone will be home.
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