After decades of sacrificing adventures and family trips to build the perfect retirement fund, I discovered at 72 that my arthritis-riddled hands can't open the jar of dreams I'd been saving for.
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Last week, I sat in my doctor's office staring at another test result that reminded me why the dream retirement I'd meticulously planned for two decades feels more like a mirage now.
At 72, with arthritis in my hands making it hard to open jars and energy that fades by mid-afternoon, I realize I spent the best years of my health preparing for years when I can't fully enjoy what I saved for.
Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for financial security.
But, looking back, I see how fear drove me to trade irreplaceable experiences for a savings account balance that can't buy back the vitality I once had.
After my first marriage ended and left me financially vulnerable, I remarried and became obsessed with never feeling that exposed again.
Every vacation postponed, every adventure declined, every "maybe next year" added up to a retirement fund that's robust and a photo album that's surprisingly thin.
If I could sit down with my 40-year-old self, here's what I'd share over coffee, probably while she checked her investment portfolio on her phone.
1) Your body has an expiration date that arrives before your retirement party
When you're 45 and can still hike ten miles or dance until midnight, it's easy to believe you'll always have that energy.
You tell yourself that Europe can wait until retirement, that you'll learn to ski when you have more time, that you'll take that cross-country road trip when work isn't so demanding.
Here's what actually happens: By the time you retire, your knees might need replacing (mine did, at 65 and 67).
Those cobblestone streets in Rome that looked charming in travel magazines become mobility obstacles; the stamina for long flights diminishes, and the adventure spirit remains willing, but the flesh grows increasingly weak.
I started learning Italian at 66, preparing for that long-awaited trip to Italy.
The irony wasn't lost on me that I was finally studying the language when my hearing had started to decline and my pronunciation would never be quite right.
We made the trip, and it was wonderful, but I couldn't help thinking how different it would have been with 50-year-old knees and 40-year-old energy.
2) Security is an illusion no matter how much you save
After my first marriage crumbled and took financial stability with it, I believed money could protect me from uncertainty.
So I saved, and saved, and then saved some more.
Every bonus went into retirement; every raise got diverted to investments.
I thought I was building an impenetrable fortress against life's uncertainties.
But here's what all that saving couldn't prevent: Unexpected health issues, the emotional toll of putting life on perpetual hold, the regret of missing my children's invitations to join them on trips because I was "being responsible."
Security is about knowing you lived fully while you could.
3) Your children want memories with you, not your inheritance
How many times did I tell my kids we couldn't afford something when what I really meant was that I couldn't afford to touch the retirement fund?
The family reunion in Hawaii, the summer rental at the lake, the spontaneous weekend trips they invited me on during their college years.
I always had the same response: "That money needs to go toward the future."
Now, my children are in their 40s with busy lives of their own.
When we do gather, they don't talk about hoping for an inheritance.
They share memories of the times we were together and express regret about the adventures we didn't take; they would have traded every penny I'll leave them for more time together when we were all younger and more energetic.
4) Experiences compound interest differently than money
Einstein supposedly called compound interest the eighth wonder of the world.
However, there's another kind of compounding that spreadsheets can't calculate: The way experiences build upon each other, creating a rich tapestry of life lived fully.
The cooking class you take at 45 leads to dinner parties that deepen friendships, the weekend workshop in photography transforms how you see the world for decades, or the month-long artist residency you almost didn't take becomes the story you tell most often, the one that shaped who you became.
When I downsized my home recently, I realized how little the possessions mattered.
What I cherished were the photos, the ticket stubs, the journals from the few trips I did take.
The expensive furniture I'd saved up for? Just stuff to sell or give away.
But those memories of dancing at my nephew's beach wedding when I was 58? Priceless, even with my replaced knees.
5) The future you're saving for might not look like you imagined
Have you ever noticed how retirement commercials show silver-haired couples playing tennis and sailing into sunsets? At 45, I bought into that vision completely.
I pictured myself at 70 as simply a grayer version of my current self, finally free to do everything I'd postponed.
Reality check: At 72, I need reading glasses to see the menu at those fancy restaurants I can finally afford.
My idea of adventure has shifted from mountain climbing to finding a coffee shop with comfortable chairs and good lighting.
The energy I saved my money for doesn't match the energy I saved my money with.
6) Balance is a necessity
The word "balance" used to make me uncomfortable.
It sounded like an excuse for people who weren't serious about their financial future.
I wore my imbalance like a badge of honor, proof of my dedication to responsibility.
However, balance is about recognizing that life happens in seasons, and each season has its own gifts that can't be deferred, saying yes to the anniversary trip at 47 and finding a way to make the budget work, and understanding that your 50-year-old self deserves joy just as much as your 70-year-old self deserves security.
Final thoughts
I'm not suggesting anyone should abandon financial planning or spend recklessly.
What I'm advocating for is intentional living that honors both present and future selves.
Save for retirement, yes, but also invest in experiences while your body can fully enjoy them.
Create security, but don't let fear rob you of joy; plan for tomorrow, but don't forget to live today.
The view from 72 is beautiful in its own way, but it's also tinged with the recognition that some opportunities have passed forever.
Don't let your 40s and 50s become decades of deferred living.
Trust me, your future self will thank you more for the memories than for an extra zero in your bank account.
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