Why? . . . Ooohhh, why!

I had lotsa reasons for FIREing at the end of 2021. 

Cuz I had long tired of didn’t love (or, to an ever-larger extent, like) the work that I did? Check!

Cuz a lot of the lawyers I painfully had to endure people I worked with were increasingly grating on me? Yep!

Cuz there was job-related stress that I despised didn’t care for? Oh, yeah!

Cuz I wanted total more control over my schedule? You betcha!

Cuz I was tired of bending the knee to superiors when I’d so rather not reporting to people and, on occasion, biting my tongue in the workplace? F’sho!

Cuz I wanted to stop toiling for the dark side volunteer more and maybe try new things on the occupational front if I decided to go back to work? Absolutely!

Cuz wanted unlimited free time to do anything but work exercise/read/watch and listen to other content? Surely!

And more. Much more. 

This is to say nothing of the financial aspects of wanting to FIRE. Not the least of which was a single-minded desire for financial security. 

Any questions?

But since FIREing, never—not once—was I asked point blank, “Why did you retire?” 

Now, sure, because I’ve told very few people that I FIREd, the opportunities for this question to be posed necessarily have been few. But a few dozen people know my sitch and could’ve asked.  

Many of said people aren’t in the FIRE community/pursuing financial independence, and/or are unfamiliar with FIRE at all. So, while I figger that FIRE community people would mostly get why I wanted to FIRE, I also figger that others would find my nominally “retiring” so unusual that it’d seemingly necessarily prompt the question of “why?!”

Alas, no. Until recently. 

Lemme set up the scene. 

The Missus, Thing Two, and I attended a Passover Seder hosted by some friends. Attendees included a married couple I’d never met. We’ll call them Husband and Wife.

Husband and Wife seemed to be smart, lovely, and accomplished people. While engaging in something a little deeper than small talk before the Seder started, Husband or Wife asked me what I did for a living. 

The further I’ve gotten from the date that I FIREd, the more comfortable I’ve become telling people flat out that I’m retired. Less lying and making up a story about doing contract work in the area I worked in during my full-time career. That contract work being stuff I did in my first two years after FIREing. And less saying I’m semiretired, which while technically true (cuz of my part-time funemployment job and gig work) isn’t the full or real story. Nope, I’m increasingly saying that I’m retired. Even if I sometimes follow up by mentioning my “work.”

So, when asked the question by Husband or Wife, I said that I’m retired. And waited for the reaction. I glimpsed surprise in Husband’s and Wife’s eyes at my response. After processing the answer, Wife said something like, “Pardon me for saying so, but you look pretty young to be retired!” To which I responded, “yep!”

The conversation then turned to other subjects. By the time we were instructed to go to the Seder table, I sensed that Husband and Wife were still thinking about what I’d said. 

Soon after we were seated, I learned a little something about Husband, whom I was seated next to. He was, and still sorta is, something of a big shot. A real do-gooder. Highly accomplished. Very active.

After the Seder’s initial stages were complete, the meal was served. And then it happened. A few minutes after we started eating, Husband asked me, “So . . . why did you retire?”

Such a simple question. But because it was asked so succinctly, directly, and in an improbable setting for such a question, and because I’d not been asked it before, I was caught completely off balance. 

In a flash, I simultaneously thought: (1) of all the reasons mentioned earlier in this blog post, (2) how do I answer this seemingly simple, but also profound, question?, and (3) should I answer truthfully, or hedge and simplify things to make the explanation something I thought would be more understandable to a non-FIRE person?

And the answer is . . . 

The response that came out of my mouth was unplanned and surprised even me: “Because I wanted to and I could.” 

I instantly processed what I’d said. And, frankly, I was pretty darned pleased. Sure, my response left out so, so much more. But its paradigm was so different than what I’d have answered had I mentioned all the reasons stated above. The answer sat well with me. Really well.

A moment later, I thought about the motivation for Husband’s question. I settled on this: Husband is physically and mentally firing on all cylinders and in the prime of life. Being anything less than fully active and engaged in service to doing good likely is unthinkable to him. Doing nothing at all? I suspect he’d consider that all but unconscionable. I imagine that my response completely short-circuited his brain.

Now, I have all the admiration in the world for Husband. If everyone were like him, the world would be a better place. Immeasurably better. But as much as my life likely isn’t at all—at least for now—for him, his life isn’t at all for me. 

No, I don’t want a big life doing big things to change the world. Or to move large organizations forward. That’s not to say that those aren’t admirable goals. They absolutely are. Others in my life are doing just those things. But it’s never been my jam. And it ain’t now. And I don’t see a day when it will be.

Rather, I want to do other types of things. What I might describe as big things for me. I wanna be happy and content and enjoy my life. A relatively simple life. Exploring things and places that interest me. Learning all manner of new things. Volunteering on a one-on-one basis. And being there to support my family and friends. 

I imagine that the people who do what I think are conventionally “big” things might think that my “big” things are really small. But, I don’t. I think they’re maybe the biggest of all.  

And in the end . . . 

Funny thing about my feelings about the question “Why did you retire?” Before I FIREd, and for a while thereafter, I relished the opportunity to be asked it. Then I stopped thinking about the subject at all. And maybe started thinking it was more trouble than it was worth to have to answer. But now? I think I’m at least back to being comfortable being asked. So, go ahead people, ask me!