Lesson More

Hello, again, Dear Reader! All the ones of you! 

In my last post, I rambled on about discussed the importance (to me, at least) of automating payments. Both of the push and pull variety. 

I hung my head in shame, admitting that I’d failed to automate pull payments such as retirement account contributions after starting my own company. But also push payments, like post-FIRE deductions from liquid investment accounts to meet living expenses. I mentioned that, for me, automating those would’ve proved mighty helpful mentally.

This got me thinking about lessons I’ve learned since FIREing. Lessons I probly couldn’t have learned but for actually going through the events/experiences. Let’s go through some of these, shall we, Dear Reader? 

Lesson One — Donald deduct

As for those post-FIRE investment account deductions to meet living expenses that I failed to automate, let me first rationalize my mistake (You, Dear Reader, will not be mistaken for finding this reasoning stupid. Because it was).

First, I didn’t necessarily think to do so. I guess I figgered I’d just deduct money as needed. Given that I (and, in my defense, just about everyone, including brainypants folks) thought that the U.S. economy would continue chugging along into 2022 as it mostly had for years, I had reason to believe that our investments would grow. And the longer I left the growth untouched, the less macro impact any deductions I made would have on the investment nut. My don’t-touch! instinct became only more rigid once our investments started sliding, which happened almost immediately after I FIREd. 

In time, I discovered two things about myself. First, because our investments were taking a hit, each deduction I initiated was painful. The more things slid, the more painful each deduction became. Simultaneously, however, I also began discovering that I missed getting a paycheck at regular intervals, which automated post-FIRE deductions could have replicated. As a result, I both dreaded and longed for automated push payments. 

I’ve not yet rectified these problems. But I will. 

Lesson Two — Cash out

Next, and dovetailing with Lesson One, was that I hadn’t built up enough of a cash buffer by the time I FIRE’d. We consequently burned through the too-small cash buffer within several months of my FIREing. My anxiety (mind you, this wasn’t outright panic by any means; rather run-of-the-mill anxiety) brought on by our sliding investments, which could’ve been allayed by having an ample cash cushion to help us weather the storm, festered, unmolested. 

If I had it to do over again, I would’ve built up a far bigger cash cushion. I think at least one year’s worth. It’d have hurt to have all that money just sitting around earning little if any interest (interest rates for most of the first year of my FIRE life were very low). But the mental comfort it’d have provided would’ve been well worth it.

Lesson Three — Grace under FIRE

This leads to the next lesson that I learned. More accurately, I relearned it. Namely, to give myself grace. For as much as I beat myself up about not automating payments/deductions, it wasn’t like that did material harmful damage. Financially, we’ve weathered things since FIREing well. Even if not perfectly or optimally. Our investments have recovered much of what was lost after I FIREd to boot. To be close to where we were financially right after I FIREd—notwithstanding having withdrawn a not insignificant sum from our liquid investments in the meantime—still blows my mind.

Lesson Four — Guided by voices

I freely admit that I didn’t retire to something, as many in the FIRE community advise that you ought to do. Rather, I planned to take some indefinite period of time to do whatevs, then see if unforeseen opportunities, or mere whimsy or curiosity, took me in directions I couldn’t have known. 

And you know what? My plan worked. At least it has so far. I’ve had time to myself, which I love. And unforeseen opportunities, whimsy, and curiosity have all factored into my post-FIRE life.

Ironically, one opportunity that I’d suspected might come my way—to do contract gigs in the area I worked in professionally—did in fact do so. But after taking some of those gigs, I found that I don’t really care for the work anymore, notwithstanding very healthy compensation. That was a revelation I couldn’t possibly have come to otherwise. And quite a welcome one at that.

As for the other opportunities and whimsy- or curiosity-driven pursuits that’ve come my way, I not only couldn’t have known what they’d be, but also, that I’d find myself enjoying them. That’s been fun.

Lesson Five — Open wide

Which brings us to lesson number five that I’ve learned. Namely, to be wide open to new opportunities, interests, and passions. 

I don’t always say “yes” to things. Nor do I constantly look for and/or go out and try new things. But I keep an open mind and am pretty mindful. So, I often spot new things that I might not have were my brain focused on, and always clouded by, the work I used to do, and the fact of having a mentally taxing and stressful full-time job. I really never feel like I’m forcing myself to do/try things. Rather, such things come at a regular enough pace to keep me happy. 

Lesson Six — Peace dividend

Which leads to the next lesson I’ve learned. Sometimes, those opportunities and/or new things don’t always spark joy work out. After realizing finding that something I’ve tried/undertaken just ain’t doing it for me, I typically say to myself, “whelp, that’s no fun,” and then cut and run. Or, where possible, try to pivot to see if I can make the best of things and maybe make it altogether appealing. 

For example, the first time after FIREing that I took a consulting gig in the area I worked in professionally, I structured the engagement such that it would’ve been almost ideal when I was working full time. But, wouldn’t you know it. Even with that sweet arrangement, I found that I didn’t enjoy the work so much. 

When a second consulting gig came my way, I didn’t reject it out of hand, but pivoted and structured it so that it was even more tailored to what I, pre-FIREing, would have considered ideal. That allowed me to see whether it was just that first consulting gig that didn’t appeal to me or whether I’d completely lost my enthusiasm for the work I used to do altogether. Ultimately finding that this second gig didn’t do it for me either, I’ve made peace with the fact that I’m basically done with that work. And, notably, the phase of my life in which I did it. I’ve a twinge of sadness in coming to that realization. But more joy making peace with it. 

And in the end . . . 

And that brings me to the last lesson I’ve learned. Actually, that’s not entirely accurate. Because this “lesson” is something I always knew. And that lesson? I’m just about one of the most fortunate knuckleheads on the planet. That’s true in every sense. Literally and figuratively.

I mean, notwithstanding legit tough adversities I’ve faced over the decades, how charmed has my life been that I can stop working and make my own days and do as I please, while simultaneously having ample resources to sustain my, and The Family’s, life?! And not deplete, or even just sustain our financial resources, but grow them?!* That’s bananas!

Oh, what a lucky man I am.

*  We’re not there yet, as of the publishing of this blog post, but I have reason to believe that we will be soon.