I live in the American Mountain West, an objectively beautiful part of the world, with generally fantastic weather most of the year. It’s a major reason we moved here from the American Midwest, where the weather sssuuuccckkkssss is decidedly not like that. Whereas I complained . . . every . . . single . . . day . . . about the weather in the Midwest, in the Mountain West, I’m just as likely to say with giddy delight, upon walking outside my door, “Ooohhh, it’s absolutely lovely out!” The improved weather situation—looking at you, Dr. Sunshine—has undeniably transformed me from a miserable curmudgeon to a quite happy curmudgeon.
Oh, what a beautiful mooorrr-ning! . . . that I won’t be enjoying
In the last few years in the job I just left (still feels super weird to write that!), I essentially worked a part-time schedule. In theory, at least, that allowed me more time to enjoy the outdoors.
Were that it was so.
In part, that’s because “part-time” sometimes translated to “full-time” in practice. Other times, I felt compelled to be close to my computer, lest a time-sensitive project or task come in. So, getting outside to enjoy the day wasn’t easy, or possible on a regular and predictable schedule.
I blame myself for that. My sensitivity to experiencing stress and being wired to respond promptly, do good work, and carry—at least—my load (and as much more as necessary) served me well as a worker. But those traits destroyed any ability I had to enjoy the moment. Especially on workdays.
Many times, when I’d leave my house on a weekday to run some errand—or even to actually do something fun, like take a mid-day bike ride—I’d see someone taking a leisurely stroll down the sidewalk, or just hanging out at a park. Inevitably, I’d think to myself, “man, I’d give just about anything to be that person and to live in and enjoy the moment.”
But . . . each . . . and . . . every . . . time, I failed. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I truly lived in and savored the moment during my working days. Sure, those bike rides required me to be completely aware of what was going on around me so that, you know, I wouldn’t get myself killed. And, of course, I wasn’t blind to every nice day I enjoyed. Same with when I’ve taken hikes, gotten together with friends, and spent quality time with The Family. But always . . . always . . . there was that ever-present thought of work and/or other obligations, lingering like a blanket of fog.
In a moment
Just a few weeks removed from working, I can sense the green shoots of change. With no formal work to be done, I now look out my window and smile, instead of thinking to myself, “What a beautiful day! I wish I could enjoy it.” Even better, I can—and do—get outside and enjoy it. Not just because I usually have no competing and overriding obligations, but far more so because my flea-addled brain is relatively unencumbered by stress and the anticipation of work.
On the one hand, this change is due to simply not working. But that’s not nearly the whole story. I mean, I’ve had a few periods in which I’ve not worked during my working career, both voluntary and involuntary.
This new situation is wholly different for one main reason: FI. Because, not only am I not working, but I have the invaluable security blanket of knowing that, financially speaking, I objectively don’t need to work. For me, that appears to have made all the difference in the world.
The last time I was able to live in the moment was at least as far back as college, about 30 years ago. Maybe even as far back as high school. I now think that this is because that’s the last time didn’t have to think about work and my financial wellbeing. I then had the security—and incredible privilege—of being completely subsidized by the Bank of Mom and Dad. FI of a different sort, if you will.
Ever since then I’ve had to provide for myself. I’ve fortunately always been able to do so. But as the responsibility was always dependent upon me (and for the last two+ decades, jointly with The Missus) working, my job was a necessity and a fundamental element and focus of my daily life.
It’s been a long slog.
I won’t, and can’t in good conscience, say that “I’ve paid my dues.” I mean, I still have soft hands and a body generally in good working order. In no small part because I haven’t engaged in physical labor as a major element of my work. And I’ve FIREd several years shy of traditional retirement age.
But I have put in time. And whatever the physical toll of blue collar work, my white collar work certainly exacted a mental toll. I suspect that many others might say it’s done the same to them.
I didn’t bank on FI having the effect I’m finding it to have. But I did hold out some hope that it would. I’m happy to find that that hope appears to have been well placed.
And in the end . . .
Finding myself more able to enjoy the moment and the day has been every bit as wonderful as I might’ve dreamed. And made the pursuit of FIRE wholly worth it. It’s great to finally be able to completely enjoy each day without thinking about work. Especially the mockingly beautiful days.
