Being Sensible Doesn’t Always Pay Off.
Growing up, I lived in a home where my parents took jobs that paid the bills but didn't necessarily make them happy. My friend’s parents at school all did the same.
Dad had savings and was economically secure. He gave it his all to provide the most reliable home he could. He saved. Was thrifty. Never spent impulsively or excessively. Put money back for the future.
People in Thatcher's Britain were taught to do exactly that. Get a job, pay the bills, take no risks, and try and avoid being laid off and getting stuck on benefits. If you were lucky enough, you could buy your council house. (We didn’t). A comfortable retirement was the endgame. Woe betide you if you were in the wrong job, like a coalmine or the arts for example. A well-established shop or factory was an employer for life.
My dad worked in two factories consecutively, one for over 20 years and the other for over 20 years after being redundant from the first job. 40 years of back-breaking work to make someone else rich.
He spent quality time with us kids during his two-week summer break, taking us on day trips to the seaside or zoo. I have never had a proper holiday with my Dad. We never got further than 60 miles from the house.
But Dad had a dream. He wanted a campervan. And a motorbike. He'd have both when he had the time to make them worth having. Boy, was he going to use them.
Now, he has Parkinsons and Dementia, and is spending his retirement in a nursing home, believing he is still at work.
His illness became apparent a couple of years before he was due to retire. His feet shuffled when he walked. He got slower and his driving became a bit erratic.
One day I had to pick him up to drive him to work, as his car was in the garage.
This shell of a man shocked me as he carefully shuffled up the garden path, frail and old. He was holding his lunchbox with both hands, so he didn't drop it as he navigated two small concrete steps. Travelling up the gently sloping path seemed equivalent to climbing a mountain. He looked so tired.
This poor soul was expecting to work an eight hour day, again, as if he was still a sprightly young man.
He now spends his life looking for “files” on his TV, and being unable to work out why Microsoft Office won't work on it.
He believes he is on the factory floor. The nurses are his various family members or at other times, are the ladies who worked on the lines. The other residents? All factory workers. Forever at work.
Not exactly that campervan around the coast, and the zooming off on the bike, that he dreamed of for his later years. The dream he worked tirelessly for, now lost after all that time. 40 plus years wasted.
I do not want that for myself, or for you. There are things that hold greater importance than bills. Paying bills will always be necessary. But Life? What if one day we do not have the chance to live it? I already nearly lost my life to alcohol, and I have a perspective. Life is precious.
So why put off doing the fun stuff?
The Answer To A Happy Life.
But … I hear you cry … we have to earn money to keep a roof over our heads.
The alternative route is to make a living doing what you love. For me, that is dogs. Dogs and writing. What is it for you?
I'm dogsitting two beautiful dogs in a client's home, surrounded by stunning gardens, creating dog content for my clients. This may not be everyone's ideal job, but for me, it's perfect.
After raising my family, I didn't want to rely on benefits or settle for a mundane job. That meant I spent my life unfulfilled until I retire. If I was lucky enough to retire.
Waiting to retire before I do anything fun doesn't interest me.
Money is not the answer.
I'm not privileged, and had nothing of financial value my whole life. I've fought relentlessly and endured a life of poverty for 18 years as a single mother, with two kids who have additional needs. My long ago marriage left me with PTSD from the abuse. We live in social housing and have no savings. We eat chips with everything and keeping up with the bills is tricky.
I have never had an easy life handed to me. I left home at 15, worked as a waitress to keep a roof over my head, and struggled ever since.
But I am happy.
I'll be honest, I still don't make a ton of money, (though year on year my business has become profitable and I usually beat the previous year's total come the new tax year.)
Working out what things I found interesting (dog behaviour) and becoming educated in that was the key to my happiness.
For you it could be a craft? Or maybe you love seeing children learn new things? Or perhaps you have an interest in mechanics and like fixing things? There are a million things that you can learn.
Once you have more knowledge on a subject than the next person, you can use your knowledge to earn a living when they need your expertise.
I'm still paying off the money I borrowed to get courses under my belt. I learned about what lit me up and crafted a career around it. It will be a while before I am earning a comfortable living. I make the bills and that's about it.
But does that matter? After all, if I were wealthy, how would I spend my time?
I would spend it sitting in a pleasant house, surrounded by dogs, writing on my laptop. Spending time with my partner, kids, and own dog. Visiting the countryside. Going for long walks in nice places.
Just like I am now.
I have already built that life for myself by doing what I love. The answer to a happy life is to adjust your expectations, get off your arse, take a few risks and build it.
What does your ideal life look like? Instead of waiting for it, how can you live it now?
If I develop dementia and become like my Dad, I hope to be stuck in this time.
Already living how I want to live.
Happy. It wouldn't be such a terrible thing after all.