Although I did not start out desiring or expecting this to happen, I wagered most of my retirement on what I sincerely believed was a new way forward—one rich with the meaning I longed for, the meaning I felt viscerally compelled to create. I set out to fully express the most authentic essence of my being and become fully alive. Along the way, I stumbled, erred in monumental ways, and fought a bloodied battle with self-doubt and a crumbling sense of self-worth.
That is all in the past, and I can do nothing about it. What is gone is gone. I cannot go back and undo anything that happened, no matter how frantically I hyperventilate, out of sheer panic and anxiety. All I can do is try to make the most of what now is, no matter how much it seems like it will always be less than it would have been had I not made the choices I made. That is just a good old-fashioned fact of life—one I seemed destined to be retaught every now and then.
The challenge I now face is the realization that, on paper, my financial future now appears to be somewhere between uncertain and perilous, unless something unforeseen and significant occurs. Since I am referring to the future, ‘unforeseen’ is inherent. How big my future unfolds boils down to the same two inputs that have always shaped my life’s success in the past— some hard work and a lot of luck.
From where I stand today, it is easy to peer into the future full of worry and anxiety. But what future am I speaking of? Twenty-five years from now? Fifteen years? Five? One year? I can lament all day long about how my long-term future seems much less secure than it might have been had I not chosen to pursue what I thought was right for me at the time. I had no idea then of the wars that would be waged inside myself along the way. This reason alone is both necessary and sufficient to warrant swift self-forgiveness.
Moreover, although I have no way of knowing what the long-term future holds and have no control over it, I do have some control over the near-term future. What happens in the next minute of my life is much more under my control, as it is shaped by the choices I make right now.
The future I must focus on is not the one that is out of reach. That is where my goals might reside, but it is not the future to which I should give my utmost attention. That belongs to the steps I take now to impact the outcomes one minute from now. Pennies, one at a time, add up to dollars. Similarly, minutes, one at a time, add up to years, and years add up to a lifetime.
In closing, I return to my opening sentence, which stated that I wagered most of my retirement on what, in essence, was and remains a deeply held dream and sense of meaning. I was tempted to include the modifier ‘foolishly’ before the word ‘wagered’. However, it is only in my fear-driven prognostications that my choice appears foolish. Therefore, I opted to drop it.