We all build a bubble out of our daily routines, our immediate circle, and the invisible baseline of our own thoughts.

We assume everyone else is operating on roughly the same frequency until something, or someone, pricks the bubble and lets the real world in.

Lately, the outside world has been knocking to remind me that I am different. Three times in the last few days, I was reminded that I am not normal. If there is even such a thing as normal.

My first friend is in his late thirties. His family decided his wife would stay home while their kids were young, and she only returned to work full-time this year. It’s a standard, family-first decision, and I completely get it.

But it comes with consequences. Being a single-income family until the kids hit Grade 2 and 3 means trading a decade of dual income for presence at home. They’ll likely need to work into their mid-sixties or beyond to catch up. I respect that trade-off.

In our case, with the benefit of hindsight, our kids had a fantastic childhood in daycare. Looking back, that choice was probably more pure luck than brilliant financial planning on our part. We stumbled into finding an incredible caregiver, a wonderful woman who practically became part of our family (The Richest Life in 700 Square Feet).

A second friend took the leap into business ownership in her medical field in her early forties, sinking a chunk of her savings into the practice. But as a medical provider, the business only makes money when she is physically working.

She makes a great income, but a lot of it goes straight to business loans, living expenses, and a mortgage in her mid-fifties. She’ll likely work until 60 or longer, banking on a buyout down the road.

A third friend, in her late forties, also owns a practice and makes a crap ton of money, and spends most of it. Beautiful home, vacation properties, private schools.

From the outside, they’ve grabbed the brass ring. On the inside, they are up to their eyeballs in debt. The cash flow is massive, but it gets sucked up just as fast. She is chained to her career, relying on a future buyout in a small town.

From the outside, society looks at these three couples and calls it the dream. But regardless of income, they are all bound to the standard playbook: working into their sixties to pay off debt and build a finish-line cushion.

That is society’s baseline for normal. It is the standard Imperial March, where everyone stays in rank and keeps the machine running.

Retiring (soon) in our early fifties feels almost weird by comparison. It wasn’t magic. It was just a long series of small but important decisions: passing on the bigger house, skipping the new cars, and saying no to lifestyle creep.

Those choices didn’t buy stuff; they bought unhurried time.

Society conditions us to trade away our fifties in exchange for a finish line in our sixties. But these are supposed to be our go-go years. I want to have the knees, energy, and health to actually enjoy life.  Even in my early 50s I can feel the slippery slope of declining health.

I can’t imagine what the next 10 years would bring to my health if I continued to work at a desk. I need these years to get my health back, not to lose more.

Retiring (soon)  also reclaims a short window with our kids. They are growing up fast, getting ready for university, and moving toward their own lives. Having this time now means we actually get to be around for these last few years under the same roof, rather than giving them whatever leftover energy is left at 6 PM after a grind at the office.

It doesn’t mean my lifestyle is any better then or that my decisions were the right ones in life. Many times I have thought about the nicer house. Many times I have thought about new cars or bigger vacations. Somehow we have refrained from making that big purchase. Sometimes we were too busy to take that bigger vacation. And that is why we are where we are.

Our life experiences and small inflection points in life help form our decisions. Mine has led to a little early retirement in the near future. There have been many forks in the road that could have led us to a typical retirement. Somehow we are where we are. Led by some magical “Force”.

We all have different paths. In the end no one is normal. Especially Vader.

Professional help at its finest – we’re listening