I Want to Retire in the Next 5 Years. I Am 34 Years Old. People Tell Me This Is Nuts.
They completely misunderstand what I’m saying.
Retirement is an archaic construct. I don’t get it.
You supposedly work for back-to-back decades with a four-week vacation in-between each year. You’ve got to get a piece of paper for an education before you can qualify to work. Then you enter in some low-ranking job, probably working for free or minimum wage.
You bust your chops. You impress everybody you encounter. You do the right thing. You stay off social media and make sure you don’t talk too loudly. But you talk loud enough so people don’t think you’re weird, or lonely. You keep plodding through work like Big Foot. You’re slow, steady, and take heavy steps. Your dreams are mostly put on the back-burner.
You love to write, or paint, or climb mountains. Except you ignore these joys in life in favor of work.
You put placeholders for things you love, to look forward to ‘one day.’ One day is a fancy way of saying, “I’ll do it in retirement.” I see it with writers all the time. They want to publish their first piece of work online but then message me and say they are too busy to do it. Their job is in the way of their dreams.
