Stop Sacrificing Today for a Tomorrow You Have Never Been Promised

There are people who spend their entire lives getting ready to live.

They work. They save. They sacrifice. They delay. They deny themselves nearly every unnecessary pleasure because one day—some glorious day in the distant future—they are finally going to relax.

The problem is that “then” is not a date on the calendar.

It is an idea.

And for some people, it never arrives.

They spend forty years sacrificing today for tomorrow, only to discover that tomorrow comes with health problems, different responsibilities, lost relationships, less energy, or simply another excuse to wait.

Some never reach it at all.

I am not saying you should ignore the future. I am not suggesting that you empty your retirement account, max out your credit cards, quit your job this afternoon, buy a boat you cannot afford, and move to the Bahamas.

That would not be living wisely. That would just be creating a different kind of misery.

I am saying there has to be a compromise somewhere between reckless living and refusing to live at all.

We Have Learned to Live Life Backward

From the time we are young, we are taught that life is always preparing us for the next stage.

Elementary school prepares us for middle school.

Middle school prepares us for high school.

High school prepares us for college.

College prepares us for a career.

Our career prepares us for retirement.

Retirement apparently prepares us for death.

At almost every stage, we are told that what we are doing right now is not the main event. It is merely preparation for something later.

People such as Tim Ferriss have challenged the traditional idea that we should spend the healthiest decades of our lives working nonstop so we can hopefully purchase freedom when we are old.

Gary Vaynerchuk frequently talks about gratitude, mortality, and the absurd amount of time people waste worrying about the opinions and expectations of others.

Dale Carnegie wrote about the importance of living within the boundaries of today rather than being destroyed by anxiety over the past or future.

These men have different philosophies, personalities, and approaches, but there is a common thread running through many of their ideas:

Not after you make your first million dollars.

Not after the children leave home.

Not after you pay off the mortgage.

Not after the business becomes successful.

Not after you retire.

Now.

Yet many of us keep behaving as though today is nothing more than a waiting room for tomorrow.

Tomorrow Is a Promise Nobody Made

Tomorrow feels guaranteed because it usually arrives.

You go to bed expecting morning, and most of the time morning comes. You make plans for next month, next year, and twenty years from now because you assume you will be there.

Planning that way is normal and necessary.

But eventually, for every person, tomorrow does not arrive.

That is not intended to be depressing. It should be clarifying.

• You may not reach retirement.
• You may reach retirement but no longer have the health to do what you postponed.
• Your spouse may not be there.
• Your best friend may not be there.
• Your children will certainly not be the same age they are today.
• The body you have now will change.
• The relationships you have now will change.
• The opportunities available now may disappear.

People often say, “We can always do that later.”

No, you cannot.

You may be able to do it later. That is not the same thing.

Later is a possibility, not a guarantee.

The Problem Is Not Planning. It Is Forsaking.

There is nothing wrong with saving money.

There is nothing wrong with preparing for retirement.

There is nothing wrong with buying an affordable car, living in a modest house, repairing things yourself, or borrowing something you will only need once.

Frugality can be wise.

Planning can be wise.

Delayed gratification can be wise.

But any good principle can become destructive when taken to an extreme.

The problem begins when you continually forsake your present life for the sake of your future one.

Some people will not buy anything for themselves because they mentally assign every dollar to retirement.

And I do mean anything.

The Six-Dollar Hammer

They could need a six-dollar hammer, but they will not buy one. Instead, they will call a friend, drive across town, borrow the friend’s hammer, use it, and eventually drive back across town to return it.

They may have burned six dollars in gasoline and consumed an hour of their life, but at least they did not recklessly purchase a hammer.

That six dollars is for retirement.

They buy the cheapest car possible, even when they could comfortably afford something more reliable or enjoyable.

They buy the cheapest house they can find and spend the next ten years renovating it themselves—not necessarily because they enjoy renovating houses, but because paying someone to do the work feels like stealing money from their future.

• They avoid vacations.
• They avoid restaurants.
• They avoid hobbies.
• They avoid convenience.
• They avoid replacing things that are worn out.
• They avoid nearly every present pleasure because they believe deprivation is automatically virtuous.

When Retirement Becomes a Religion

For some people, retirement is no longer a financial plan.

It is a religion.

Every sacrifice is made at its altar.

Every pleasure must be justified.

Every purchase is treated as a moral failure.

Every dollar spent today is viewed as a dollar stolen from the sacred future.

The retired version of themselves receives all the consideration.

The current version receives almost none.

But why?

Why is the 70-year-old version of you more deserving of comfort than the 40-year-old version?

Why does your future self deserve the vacation your current family keeps postponing?

Why does your future self deserve a reliable vehicle while your current self spends years driving something that breaks down every six months?

Why does your future self deserve freedom while your current self lives like a prisoner?

Yes, your future matters.

You may reach an age when you cannot work as much as you do now. You may face medical expenses. You may need savings. You may need to prepare for people who depend on you.

But preparation for the future should support your life, not consume it.

Money is a tool.

It is supposed to help provide security, opportunity, comfort, generosity, and meaningful experiences.

If you never allow it to do any of those things, what exactly are you saving it for?

I Do Not Understand the Dream of Doing Nothing

I also have to admit something.

I do not completely understand retirement.

I understand financial security.

I understand wanting the freedom to choose how you spend your time.

I understand wanting to stop doing physical work that has become painful or exhausting.

I understand leaving a job you hate.

What I do not understand is the dream of doing absolutely nothing.

Why would I want to stop working?

I like working.

I like creating things. I like discovering new ways to earn money. I like building businesses. I like solving problems for other people.

Work, at its best, gives me purpose.

It gives me something to think about, improve, develop, and pursue. My brain cannot comprehend spending forty years depriving myself so that one day I can stop being productive and spend the rest of my life trying to remain entertained.

What is the prize?

I finally get to sit down forever?

I get to wake up with nowhere to be, nothing to build, nobody to help, and no problem that needs solving?

That does not sound like freedom to me. It sounds like the possible end of purpose.

Of course, not everyone feels that way about work. Some people have spent decades in physically demanding jobs. Some have worked in environments they hated because they needed to support their families. Some people have earned the right to rest, slow down, travel, garden, fish, play golf, or sit on the porch without anyone asking them to join another Zoom meeting.

I am not against rest.

I am against treating inactivity as the highest possible human achievement.

You can work fewer hours.

You can choose projects that interest you.

You can mentor younger people.

You can volunteer.

You can build something without needing it to become profitable immediately.

You can solve problems because you enjoy solving them.

You can stop working for people you do not respect and begin working on things you actually care about.

That sounds far healthier than believing your purpose has an expiration date.

Your Future Self Is Not Automatically Better at Living

We imagine our future selves as improved versions of who we are now.

That person will have more money.

More time.

More patience.

Less stress.

A paid-off house.

No demanding schedule.

Perfect blood pressure.

A strong back.

An open calendar.

Apparently, our future selves will be financially secure, physically healthy, emotionally peaceful, and ready to enjoy every experience we postponed for them.

That is a nice story.

It is not necessarily reality.

Your future self may have more money but less energy.

You may have more time but fewer people with whom to share it.

You may finally be able to afford the trip but no longer be physically capable of enjoying it.

You may finally have an empty calendar because the children grew up, moved away, and filled their own calendars.

There are experiences with an expiration date.

• You only get so many vacations while your children are children.
• You only get so many healthy years with your spouse.
• You only get so many afternoons with your parents.
• You only get so many opportunities to call an old friend before there is nobody left to answer the phone.

You cannot store those moments in a retirement account.

There Will Always Be a Responsible Reason to Wait

There will never be a perfect time to live.

There will always be a bill.

There will always be uncertainty.

The economy will be doing something alarming.

The stock market will be too high, too low, or suspiciously normal.

The business will be busy.

The children will have activities.

The car will need tires.

The house will need repairs.

Flights will be expensive.

Hotels will be overpriced.

It will be too hot, too cold, too crowded, or too inconvenient.

Next year will appear easier.

Then next year will arrive with an entirely new collection of reasons to wait.

The greatest danger is not postponing one vacation or deciding against one purchase.

The danger is developing the permanent habit of postponing your life.

You begin saying “someday” without realizing that someday is not a plan.

It is often a polite word for never.

Build Tomorrow Without Abandoning Today

The answer is balance.

• Save for retirement, but take the family trip.
• Pay down debt, but enjoy an occasional meal you did not cook yourself.
• Build the business, but go to your child’s game.
• Work hard, but have dinner with your spouse without staring at your phone.
• Buy the affordable house, but do not spend every weekend for fifteen years repairing it if you hate the work and can afford help.
• Borrow the specialized tool you will use once.
• Buy the six-dollar hammer you will need again.

You do not have to choose between responsibility and enjoyment.

You can build a future while still acknowledging that today has value.

You can save money without worshiping it.

You can work hard without allowing work to consume every meaningful moment.

You can make sacrifices without making sacrifice your entire personality.

You can prepare for old age without acting as though your younger years are disposable.

Today Is Not the Waiting Room

Today is not merely the hallway leading to the important part of your life.

Today is your life.

This ordinary afternoon is your life.

The conversation at the dinner table is your life.

The fishing trip, the birthday party, the drive with your child, the evening with your spouse, the project you are building, the ridiculous joke that makes everyone laugh—this is it.

These are not interruptions keeping you from your future.

These are the moments your future self may someday wish he could experience one more time.

But stop sacrificing every beautiful thing you have today on the altar of a day you have never been promised.

You do not need to spend irresponsibly.

You do not need to throw caution to the wind.

You do not need to abandon wisdom, discipline, or long-term thinking.

You simply need to remember that the person you are today deserves to live too.