It’s just one of those days.

One of those mornings where you wake up and, quite frankly, just want to cry. It’s not because something catastrophic happened in this specific moment; it’s just the cumulative weight of a bunch of little things. They all add up, clouding your perspective until your mood is dark and stormy.

For me, today, it’s just there. That heavy feeling of wanting to crawl back into bed and close out the world. Poor me. Life just feels… off.

Part of this gloom stems from Padme’s recent journey through a brutal season of work burnout. As discussed in Vader’s Third Law: The Law of Emotional Contagion, everyone’s mood eventually spreads across the room. With her being off and in recovery mode, it inevitably affects my own frequency. I’m thinking of her, I’m concerned for her, and I feel like I cannot be weak in these moments. Naturally, that makes me want to be.

Overall, Padme is doing well. She has been off for a month now, taking it easy as she should—binging TV shows, reading books, and simply enjoying her time. It is a strange sight for me; I’ve never seen her truly lean into stillness like this before. I only hope she can continue to carve out this kind of time for herself, wherever she eventually ends up.

Meanwhile, I’m down because I feel like a total lump lately. I’ve skipped my exercise routines, doing nothing besides walking the dog. My energy is cratering. I feel my age—maybe even older. Age has a way of sneaking up on you: one injury here, one discovery of a thing you used to do but no longer can there. Your 50s are a decade that simply cannot be done passively.

It doesn’t take much to bring on the funk. Maybe it’s too much routine. Maybe it’s a lack of new things to shake up the status quo. Whatever it is, it represents the true danger of the Dark Side.

Because. Just because.

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The Pendulum and the 50% Slide

Ironically, it was through this mood that I made a new discovery—a rare place where the Dark Side and the Light Side actually agree. It’s about retirement.

My thoughts on retirement are like a never-ending pendulum, swinging back and forth with a momentum that is utterly exhausting. Straddling this fence is painful. One day, I’ll make a decision to retire (or not) with an 80% confidence level. Then, life events slowly erode that number back down to a shaky 50%.

On the “swing” days, I talk about changing my life immediately and making work fit around those changes. I envision reducing my schedule to a 32-hour week and gradually sliding into retirement. It’s a transition period—like a wild animal being introduced back into the forest. I’d be gradually learning how to fend for myself while still having the feed tank to return to when necessary.

The very next day, the pendulum snaps to the other side: “This is my retirement date—all stop.” I decide I’m going to hit my number and rocket off the launch pad to get as far away from work as possible. Nothing gradual. No safety net. All systems go.

To be clear, these thoughts have nothing to do with money. Logically, I know our numbers are good. For me, this is entirely about the mental game.

Sunk in the Funk: The Escape Hatch

I’ve noticed that my mood has a massive impact on where that pendulum lands. On my personal happiness scale, I am currently a hard 4, and sometimes lower. Part of this is the empathetic weight of watching Padme struggle, and part of it is my own inertia of inactivity.

The more I talk about the checklist of things I need to do to change my life, the clearer the path becomes. But the clearer it becomes, the more I compare my current reality to what I should be doing. To be frank, I haven’t been doing well. I know what to do—honestly, we all know what we should do—but inertia is deadly.

Surprisingly, being “in the funk” makes me want to retire full-stop. The emotional (Dark) side starts to believe that life will be magically better the day after I quit. It holds out hope that being work-free is the ultimate magic bullet. It views retirement as an escape hatch, convinced that turning the page on work will automatically reveal an adventure on the other side. It doesn’t consider that things could actually get worse. The deeper I sink into the funk, the stronger the feeling gets: that retirement is the Holy Grail of happiness.

My unemotional, logical side knows this is a crock. It knows that only day-to-day lifestyle changes will actually shift my mood. Being off work without making those changes beforehand could lead to even darker places; I’ve been there before during previous stints away from work. Because my logic and emotion are at odds, the funk gets a little darker and the path forward gets fuzzy.

The Light Side: The Victory Lap

So, where does the pendulum swing when I’m in a great mood? Ironically, the other end of the spectrum agrees with the “Sunk in the Funk” side.

When I’m feeling confident and high-energy, my emotional side screams, “Why the $%^% not fully retire?” I read fantastic blogs, like Life in FIRE, that showcase how great life is on the other side. They talk about how adventure awaits and how controlling your own time is the only place to be. It convinces my emotional side to make the leap. It gives me a sense of invincibility. In this state, retirement looks like a victory lap. I feel strong enough to handle the void, so I want to leap into the adventure right now.

But again, the logic side pulls me back. It argues that I need to make the lifestyle changes before I am ready to leave. It suggests I should dip my toes in the water first. It argues I should only leave work when my new life is so full of “the fun stuff” that work is finally the thing impeding my progress. It reminds me that if I can’t find the energy to do more than walk the dog while I have a routine, finding it when I have zero routine will be a Herculean task.

The Emotional Barbell

It is a fascinating dichotomy. Both the very Dark Side and the very Light Side scream for a “full retirement.” Meanwhile, everything in the middle says “ease into it.”

It’s an Emotional Barbell. The heavy ends are “Go for it!” while the bar in between says, “Relax, take it easy, transition slowly.”

I am honestly surprised by this. I would have thought the choice would be more black and white—one side for “yes,” one side for “no.” Instead, when I am in a strong mood (either way), the answer is a radical “all stop.” But when I’m in a normal, everyday, “grey” mood, the answer is “ease into it.”

Who would have thought both the Dark Side and the Light Side would find common ground, leaving me to fight back against both of them? Maybe I am part Vulcan, constantly battling the emotions that push me toward the extremes.

Tick, tock. What will it be? I don’t know yet.

More ass splinters from the fence coming up.

crawling back into bed – always an option