A woman once told me exactly how much money she thought she needed before she could retire. She had done her homework. She knew what she spent each month, had looked at her Social Security benefits, reviewed her retirement accounts and thought carefully about the kind of life she wanted after work.
Then she gave me the number.
“That’s it,” she said. “If I can get there, I’ll feel comfortable.”
A few years later, she got there. So I asked her a question I thought would have an easy answer.
“Do you feel ready now?”
She laughed.
“Actually, I’ve been thinking I should probably have a little more.”
“How much more?”
She paused.
“I’m not really sure.”
And there it was.
The number had changed, but there wasn’t a new goal attached to it. She hadn’t suddenly decided to buy a larger house or travel around the world. Her everyday lifestyle hadn’t become dramatically more expensive.
Somewhere along the way, “enough” had simply moved.
Most of us understand why financial goals change.
Inflation happens. Healthcare costs change. Markets rise and fall. Family circumstances evolve. Sometimes we learn something new and realize our original assumptions were unrealistic.
Changing a financial plan when the facts change is sensible.
But that’s different from changing the finish line because reaching it didn’t produce the feeling we expected.
Perhaps you once thought: “If I can just pay off the house, I’ll feel secure.” Then the mortgage was paid off, and another concern took its place.
Or perhaps it was: “If I can get my retirement account to this number, I’ll stop worrying.” You reached the number. Then you started wondering whether another $100,000 might make you feel better.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with wanting an additional cushion. The interesting question is whether you know what that additional money is supposed to accomplish.
Because if there is always another number waiting beyond the current one, when do you actually arrive?
Retirement has become surrounded by numbers.
We hear how much the “average” retiree has saved. We read estimates of how much someone “needs” to retire comfortably. Friends mention what they have accumulated. Headlines announce another magic retirement number.
It can begin to feel as though there must be one correct answer.
There isn’t.
Someone who owns a modest home outright and enjoys a simple lifestyle may need something very different from someone with a large mortgage and expensive travel plans.
A woman with a pension may look at retirement differently from someone whose income will depend primarily on savings and Social Security.
Health, housing, family responsibilities, debt, longevity, lifestyle and personal priorities all matter.
Someone else’s retirement number tells you remarkably little about whether yours is enough.
And yet comparison can quietly move our finish line. We hear someone has more. We wonder whether we should have more. Then yesterday’s “enough” begins to look inadequate even though nothing about our own life has changed.
“Enough isn’t necessarily a number. It’s the point where your resources and the life you want them to support finally meet.”
Maybe the problem is the question itself.
“Do I have enough?” sounds straightforward, but it is surprisingly difficult to answer because the word “enough” has no job attached to it.
Try adding three words:
Enough for what?
These are very different questions.
Once we identify what we actually want our resources to accomplish, “enough” begins to become less abstract.
For homeowners, the resources available in retirement may extend beyond savings and monthly income. Understanding how home equity can fit into a retirement plan can be one part of seeing the complete financial picture rather than judging preparedness by the balance of a single retirement account.
The goal isn’t to use every resource available to you. It’s to understand what you have and what you want it to do.
There is another reason the finish line can keep moving. Sometimes we’re not really pursuing a number. We’re pursuing a feeling.
Security.
Independence.
Control.
The reassurance that whatever happens, we’ll be okay.
Those are deeply human things to want, particularly later in life when a regular paycheck may have stopped and there are more unknowns ahead.
But feelings don’t always respond to mathematics the way we expect them to.
If $500,000 doesn’t make someone feel secure, she may assume $600,000 will. When she reaches $600,000, perhaps $750,000 begins to sound safer. At some point, it’s worth asking whether the next number is solving an identifiable financial problem – or whether we’re asking money to eliminate uncertainty altogether.
Money can do many useful things. Eliminating uncertainty isn’t one of them.
The next time you find yourself thinking, “I’d feel better if I just had a little more,” try asking: What would having more allow me to do that I cannot comfortably do now?
There may be an excellent answer.
If so, you’ve identified a purpose for the money.
But what if you can’t answer the question?
That’s worth noticing too.
None of this means we should stop planning or pretend retirement doesn’t contain financial risks.
It does.
People are living longer. Healthcare can be expensive. Inflation affects purchasing power. Homes require maintenance. Markets can decline at inconvenient times.
A thoughtful retirement plan should account for risks, maintain appropriate reserves and be revisited when circumstances change.
For homeowners who want additional financial flexibility, it can also be useful to understand the home-equity options available in retirement before deciding whether any of them belong in a broader plan.
Being prepared matters. But preparation and perpetual postponement aren’t the same thing. A good plan should help us make decisions. It shouldn’t become a finish line we’re afraid to cross.
I sometimes think retirement planning conversations begin with money when perhaps they should begin somewhere else.
Once those questions have answers, the financial questions become more meaningful. Because now the money has a purpose. It is no longer simply a number we’re trying to make larger. It’s a resource supporting a life.
I think back to the woman who reached her retirement number and immediately decided she needed another one.
Perhaps the most important question for her wasn’t: “How much more do I need?” Maybe it was: “What would having more allow me to do that I cannot already do?” If she could answer that, she’d have a new financial goal worth considering.
But if she couldn’t, there was another possibility. She might no longer have been pursuing a financial goal at all. She might have been pursuing a feeling. And feelings don’t always have finish lines.
There will always be another “what if.”
There will always be someone with more.
There will always be a headline offering a new number we’re supposed to reach.
At some point, each of us has to decide what enough means for our own life. Because perhaps the purpose of retirement planning isn’t to accumulate the largest possible pile of resources. It’s to have enough resources to support the life that matters to you – and enough confidence to recognize when you’ve arrived.
Has your definition of “enough” changed as you’ve gotten older? And if someone asked you today, “Enough for what?” – what would your answer be?