Notes from a Life Without a Salary (So Far)
Last night we visited friends. I loved their apartment: light pouring in, designer furniture, view on the lake and a large garden. And I caught that little voice inside me: “If you had kept working, you could afford this…”
But what is “this”? Designer furniture? A full wardrobe? A sports car? Not really. Even when I was working and earning well, I never felt the need for expensive things. Letting go of our extra stuff to move onto Capsula, our sailboat, was liberating. I’d even recommend a stuff-cleanup session to anyone.
No, what draws me is not the stuff itself. It’s the feeling of safety these things signal. The apartment whispers: “You are secure. You don’t need to worry.”
And here’s the twist: we are secure. We live off our savings, and we spend slowly, carefully, far below what experts would consider “safe”. I know the numbers, I’ve checked the math countless times. On paper, this should feel effortless. In practice… it doesn’t.
Not having a salary drip into my account every month stresses me more than I expected. Every spending choice, from hiking trousers to cheese, becomes a mini deliberation (though the good cheese always wins). My brain knows we’re safe; my gut hasn’t caught up.
And maybe that’s fine for now. The stress melts at sea. And if it doesn’t, there’s always the option of going back to work.