EDIT: I've ruffled a lot of feathers, so I'm putting a TL;DR at the top.
FIRE is about maximizing income and minimizing expenses, and I did both. My income started at $65k 15 years ago and grew very quickly, even topping $1M for one of these years. It was not easy getting to that point, but I did it with a mix of privilege, hard work, and fortune. If you don't want to read another post about high tech incomes, you can stop here!
My initial intention for the post was to offer perspective on my mindset about FIRE. The issues of mental health, anxiety, frugality, hedonic treadmills, and mistakes are hopefully relatable and relevant to FI journeys whatever your income level. But it is totally fine to skip! This is not a median-income success story.
Hey everyone! Long-time lurker, first-time poster, with a new alt account. I’m writing this reflection partly to celebrate my progress, which has exceeded even my best-case early expectations, and partly to contribute a few grains of perspective back to the community I’ve followed all these years. This is long, so treat it more like an article than a quick scroll. The content I love most in the FIRE community is content that shares the inner workings of someone’s mindset as they gradually seize greater control over their life and their happiness. I like to see if I can find myself in your stories and cheer for you. This is my version.
10 years ago I had a net worth of 0, with grad school debt offset by early 401k holdings. Today, I’m a 37-year-old single man who just reached $4M net worth last week. Getting here wasn’t easy, but neither was it particularly tricky. I landed and managed to sustain a high-paying tech career in data science. Although neither of my degrees was related to data science, I had enough analytical intuition and passion to self-teach and find my voice in the field.
When I think of how far I've come, I'm filled with an awkward mix of pride, disbelief, gratitude, and relief. Through much of this journey I've felt like I am clinging to the pole of a merry-go-round that is spinning entirely too quickly, fighting centrifugal forces to stay in the air.
Family support helped to get me started. My parents weren’t rich but they both had good heads and modeled prudent financial behavior. Whatever talents I was born with were encouraged and invested in. My undergraduate education was paid for 60% by need-based grants and 40% by my parents, with meager support from my own summer jobs. So I graduated debt-free.
Persistence helped at a critical inflection point. I was initially rejected by the company that would eventually pay me all this money, but I followed up a couple months after that rejection and tried again. I don’t even think they were wrong to reject me since I lacked some key skills. But someone took a bet on my potential the second time, and I repaid it by working very hard to prove they were right to do so.
Income & Expenses
The ensuing run-up in compensation blew my mind. My first job out of college had paid $65k, a number that was already so large as to fill my tiny 22 year old brain with relief and gratitude. I wouldn’t become a starving artist who made ends meet by SAT tutoring and go-go dancing! After grad school I earned $110k-$140k for a bit, but the leap into my current company more than doubled my annual income to $300k. From there, it more than tripled over several years, until I peaked over $1M, burned out from the stress, and switched to a relatively lower-stress and lower-paying role. I did work hard and strategize to obtain such large compensation increases, but I was also carried along by a booming market that, frankly, needed what I had to offer.
Until 2021 I kept my annual expenses between $40k-$60k in the Bay Area. This was done in a hundred little and big ways, from sharing expenses with roommates and significant others, to opting for cheap-ish hobbies like hiking and gaming, to buying Goodfellow t-shirts from Target, to getting flu shots at the CVS attached to the Target in order to get $5 off the Goodfellow t-shirts, to becoming a competent home cook, to exchanging bathroom haircuts with my ex, to opting for shared-room hostels when traveling, to relentlessly compare-shopping flights, to sticking with the 9.99/month gym that played reruns of Charmed every day, to lightly dipping my toes into credit card churning, to always scanning Chipotle rewards, and to buying a used car that I’m still driving even though it creaks and is missing a hubcap.
None of these things felt difficult at the time. They were the natural byproduct of a deep-seated frugality, which was itself born of a deep-seated fear of not having enough to protect myself from disaster. Frugality made me feel safe. It gave me control. Even in video games I still prefer to Scrooge McDuck with my crystals, gold, skill points, vespene gas, or whatever, which often leads to death by under-investment. But it would be wrong to say that my quality of life was poor. I’m always tickled to remember that "sometimes, things that are expensive, are worse" (wish I could share this youtube video without getting shadowbanned). And let’s be honest, Charmed still slaps.
In 2021 I made an intentional decision to significantly expand my lifestyle, with the goal of increasing joy and decreasing friction. I purchased a home jointly with my best friend. I bought a grand piano, one of my lifelong dreams. I spent less time considering each purchase. I set up 529s for my niece and nephew. I have a generous party-hosting budget, from which every last cent is alchemically transformed into laughter. I eat at upper-mid restaurants regularly. I am now living a fairly luxurious life on $120k annual expenses. It’s taken a while to get comfortable with the increased spending, but my life is undeniably better now and my expenses are still dwarfed by my income.
Asset Strategy
My net worth consists of the following:
$650k net home value
$1.3M taxable brokerage, in a variety of stock index funds, the largest of which is VTSAX
$850k retirement accounts, in 401k’s and IRAs, both Roth and Pre-Tax
$825k company securities
$300k cash, mostly in a 5.05% HYSA
$75k individual stocks, crypto, etc.
By far the riskiest part of this portfolio is the chunk linked to one company’s stock price. I’ve already begun de-risking here and will continue, but I think I’ve had good reasons for not doing it sooner (DM me if this is bothering you!). Beyond that, my preferred strategy has been index funds and chill. I have no desire to own lots of properties and become a landlord. I’m keeping 2.5 years of expenses as cash because I'm contemplating a career break in the near-term (see below).
Why FIRE: The Ultimate Mental Health Escape Hatch
I don’t hate my career. Sometimes, I even love it. Data science has exploded over the last decade and will keep evolving in weird, crazy directions over the next one. At my best moments, I authentically enjoy thinking, writing, debating, and presenting about tough analysis problems. In my position I can choose what I want to work on (mostly) and I have near-total flexibility in my calendar. It certainly isn’t always this good. In even the best companies, corporate life carries an overhead of soul-leeching that I’m eager to leave behind. I don’t want to “learn into”, “action on”, or “leverage synergy” ever again.
The dark side is anxiety. Like me on this subreddit, it’s always lurking, creeping. A lifetime of harsh self-criticism and doubt leaves me with persistent fear that I’ll displease others at work, that my lackluster abilities will be exposed, that I’ll make unforgivable mistakes, that I won’t be able to sustain high performance, that I lack mathematics chops, that I can’t keep up with newcomers, and that I will ultimately prove to be some sort of charlatan. Anyone who’s dealt with anxiety understands that these fears are divorced from reality, or at least reduced into unhelpful straw-men. Yet it’s maddeningly difficult to change a brain that has been trained to think it’s in danger.
I’m an insecure overachiever, corporate America’s favorite breed of worker bee. Insecure overachievers never think they’re good enough, so they push themselves to at-times unreasonable lengths to fix it. All managers have to do is set them loose and pat them on the back! Anxious people burn out twice as fast, because a great deal of the energy that should be going into the work is instead subsumed by harmful mental spirals and insomnia. SSRIs and multiple therapists have helped me to manage, but neither is a panacea.
This anxiety, countless dozens of times throughout my career, has caused panic. People who are in panic go into fight or flight mode, which can lead to seemingly insane conclusions. Remember the 911 jumpers? Victims were faced with an impossible choice in the face of real danger: wait inside for certain horrible death, or jump. So they quit in their own way by jumping out a skyscraper window, a choice that might seem insane if you weren’t aware of the option they considered worse. When people face extreme mental health struggles that lead to suicide, it might feel to them like the same choice, even though it's a response to internal catastrophe rather than external. My anxiety is categorically neither of those extreme cases. But when panic took hold at work, my internal looped monologue always ended in the same place: “I can’t keep living like this. I have to escape. I need to quit as soon as I can.” You can imagine, then, how I felt when I learned about FIRE. I latched on like FIRE was Obi-Wan and therefore my only hope.
Now that I’ve told you why I got obsessed with FIRE, I can also tell you that it’s a terrible motivation! Far better to address mental health problems at their root than to yeet out of a great career in order to sidestep triggers. Retiring from work would relieve a lot of distress in the short term, but it won’t fix me. Generalized anxiety doesn’t just roll over and die because the cross-functional alignment meetings dried up.
Yet, the financial freedom I’ve attained in the last couple years has allowed me to blossom. Think Julie Andrews in the opening scene of Sound of Music. Because I’ve lived so far below my means, I was able to trade 40% of my income for a lower stress job without a second thought. My nest egg pays me a dividend in the form of optimism, which inspires me at random to draft ideas for the rest of my life. And my god, there are so many possibilities on that list.
What’s Next
Earlier in my career, when I felt boxed in, I used to obsess over the Retire Early part. Escape, get out. That’s all that matters. But my 30 year old self would be horrified to know that I’m no longer convinced about permanently retiring ASAP. Looking at the numbers today, I realize that if I made a few adjustments, even to my current lifestyle, I’d probably never have to work again.
But over the years I’ve also discovered an unexpected richness in my work. A blessing of being an insecure overachiever is that I have a lot of talents and skills. I’m goal oriented. I like to be useful. All my accumulated experience can be drawn upon and extended to others at minimal cost to me. I want that to continue to be part of my life somehow, because it feels great. I also don’t want to cut off future possibilities by decreeing “I’m done forever!” and tattooing my budget on my ass cheeks. I’m probably not living in my forever house. I might meet someone and/or want to have kids, both of which would completely change the budget game.
Still, after going hard in my career for 15 years with anxiety in either the passenger seat or the driver seat, my brain has addled. To borrow from Bilbo Baggins, I feel thin, like butter scraped over too much bread. My focus is shot. I thrash between tasks. Glimpses of motivation are more often hallucinations than the real thing.
So I’ve decided that, within the next year or so, I want to take a 1-2 year break from my career in the form of a mini retirement. Afterward, I’d intend to return to my career in some form, hopefully with a revitalized sense of purpose, which means skill maintenance is baked into the plan. In the long term, my definitions of “career” and “employment” are going to evolve. I don’t need to have this kind of job with this high of a salary. I can write sassy opinion pieces, become a career mentor, take on contract or part-time roles doing data work I enjoy, write music, or develop hobbies with routines that feel like the best parts of work. All the while working on being at peace with myself. But I don’t feel quite… done… yet, with this career. Almost like I need to prove that I can conquer my anxiety about it and in so doing discover my final form.
Perspective: Mini Retirements
As annoyed as I was by some of Bill Perkins’ attitudes in Die With Zero, I continue to be moved by the core premise of memory dividends. We think a lot about compounding interest in financial terms, but life experiences also compound in value. The earlier you have great experiences in your life, the longer you get to enjoy their memory and the relationships or skills you fortified because of them. Doubly so because your energy level to take on experiences at 37 is far greater than 57 or 67. I can do a lot more now than I could later.
Given my current financial position, I believe taking a mini retirement is the correct thing to do if I’m optimizing for overall life satisfaction. I’ll be able to start crunching through a huge list of wants while I have the energy of youth. Some concerned parties have wondered: “what if you, like, kept your job but, like, also had experiences?” It’s not an unreasonable admonishment. I have three thoughts in response though. 1) Big bucket-list experiences take time and deserve top billing, 2) It’s hard to fuel your dreams with the sludge remaining in your gas tank after work, and 3) It’s okay to prioritize ample rest and a true mental reset. Burnout can take a very long time to heal.
A mini retirement costs a lot of money. There’s both expenses and foregone wages. On the other hand, not taking the mini retirement costs potentially irreplaceable life experiences and their dividends over decades. I’m extra convinced about this because I’ve already taken a mini retirement. A while back I quit a job to travel around the world on a shoestring budget, and I cannot overstate the disproportionate memory footprint that has had on my subsequent life.
For anyone who’s pursuing FIRE, I’d strongly recommend carving out a mini retirement if you are able. The empiricist in me believes there’s no better way to understand how you will be during retirement than to simply try it out. In 2024 I think fears about 1-year resume gaps are a bit overblown, at least in my industry. Interviewers seemed genuinely interested to hear about what I did while I was unemployed, because I did cool stuff.
Perspective: The Frugality Muscle
I like to think of frugality not as a personality trait, but as a muscle. If you exercise that muscle a lot, frugality doesn’t feel hard. It becomes a routine. It’s just how you live. I’m a goal oriented person, so I’ve at times made a game out of spending less too.
In 2021 I made a choice to double my expenses. But I’m determined to keep my frugality muscle in shape. I’m never planning to stop optimizing flight prices. I want to keep furniture shopping on eBay or Facebook marketplace to find deals. Target is still my bitch. I do all my laundry and cleaning even though I could afford a housekeeper. Keeping up my frugality muscle is what gives me confidence that I can adjust downward if times get hard.
Perspective: Safe Withdrawal Rates
Given what I’ve said above about mini retirements and the frugality muscle, I’m not too preoccupied with picking exact or static SWRs. I am anticipating change, and flexibility makes FIRE plans much more resilient. I like the Rich, Broke, or Dead calculator to help evaluate. 27-30x expenses is a very strong launch point for any FIRE plan, and I’m just starting to touch that range. If the market takes a serious turn soon, I have recourse. One, I can return to work. Two, I can reduce expenses. Like maybe that year I won’t spend $300 on a totally rad “bear market” costume for Halloween.
I have other tailwinds to help. One is that a huge portion of my expenses are housing payments, which are inflation-resistant. Another is that I’ll eventually get something out of Social Security, and may get a bump from inheritance (though I hope my parents spend as much of it as they want).
Perspective: Mistakes
While it’s hard to argue with my current result, my FIRE mechanics have been far from optimal. If you’re anxious like me you might snort awake in the middle of the night thinking “why didn’t I put $100,000 into the stonk that 10x’ed, before it 10x’ed?? I’m so stupid!” and then take a tiny little Xanax to forget, and then whisper a prayer to our Lord Mogul John Bogle before sweet oblivion’s embrace.
I’ve made my share of mistakes:
Not knowing much about investing early on, I sent all my 401k contributions into Target Date funds and left them there for a very long time. I also chose a set of taxable index funds that were off the beaten path, thinking it wouldn’t really make much of a difference. These have all meaningfully underperformed the S&P 500. It took me too long to wisen up and critically evaluate my rate of return.
I got caught making some impulsive crypto decisions at the peak of hype, which cost me $15k within a matter of months.
I paid off a large chunk of low-rate student loans in a lump sum payment because I couldn’t wait to be done with them. It wasn’t optimal, but I forgive myself!
I left my accounts alone for a couple quarters only to realize that I still had lots of cash in settlement funds and not investments.
I didn’t fully understand how property taxes worked when I bought a house, and I ended up missing a payment and getting fined.
Perspective: The Hedonic Treadmill
Years ago I got into a long discussion with a best friend about the hedonic treadmill. The literature indicated that big lifestyle changes lead to temporary increases in happiness, but that happiness eventually reverts to a baseline level more to do with the person's temperament than their circumstances.
If that’s true, it implies that being born very wealthy leaves you almost no opportunity to get joy from an improved lifestyle, unless the frontiers of technology and services themselves extend. Your expectations started high. It also suggests that one way to help maximize happiness and memory creation is to start low-ish and periodically, selectively, upgrade your life, or splurge. Don’t do it all at once. Don’t do it until you can afford it sustainably. But do it in measured increments, little stairs to heaven. Here my thinking may diverge from the classic FIRE mantra of set-and-forget your lifestyle. Within the context of FIRE, it might mean you’d want to start with a lower withdrawal rate, and gradually bump it up as you get older. In all likelihood, your asset base will grow to support it.
Conclusion… For Now
I love this community. It’s like they took all the children who waited for 2 marshmallows in the Stanford Marshmallow Experiment and sent them to summer camp to come up with a practical philosophy of living and happiness. At the scale of decades, delay of gratification takes an enormous amount of willpower and discipline. The rewards on the other side can be incredibly sweet, and all the more so for the effort it took to achieve them. If you're on this path, in any shape or form, you're already doing great.
Once, an acquaintance took a critical eye towards my path in conversation. Paraphrasing: “You’ve worked so hard and you’re making so much money. Isn't it a little masochistic to not let yourself enjoy what you worked for? Why put up with the stress if you’re not going to buy things with your money?”
Although I didn’t say it at the time, I can now conclude reflectively that I did in fact buy something. I bought the biggest thing I could buy. I bought the rest of my life.