I’ve been thinking a lot lately about a concept that I stumbled across a few years ago.

It’s the idea that there are three things we’re all navigating in life: time, health, and wealth.

And the very cruel irony is that most of us never have all three at the same time.

In your 20’s , you have time and health but have less money. I certainly can attest that this was the case when I was in my 20s, and see it now with my kids.

In your 40’s, you might have more money and health but absolutely no time. (And the money is often dedicated to mortgage payments and all things kids).

And by your 70’s, you might finally have time and money, but your body is starting to have other plans. And frankly, for many, time is also ticking (not trying to doomsday anyone, but reality is it is a gift to get older and not everyone is so blessed).

But there’s a window. Usually somewhere in your 50’s and early 60’s, where all three can overlap.

Where you have enough money (maybe not everything you dreamed of, but enough).

Where your health is still cooperating.

And where time starts to open up in ways it hasn’t before.

A while back, Rob and I read a book together called Die with Zero by Bill Perkins. We were on a road trip and started it on Audible, and then just kept listening in the evenings because neither of us could stop thinking about it.

I ended up doing a whole podcast episode on it because it impacted me that much (you can watch it here

Some of what we read was validation for decisions Rob and I had already been making for years. And some of it was a wake-up call about decisions we still needed to make.

One of the things Perkins talks about is this exact framework. Health, wealth, and time.

And he asks this question that I think was so good: would a 20 something trade places with Warren Buffett? One of the richest people in the world?

And most people say no. Because even with all that wealth, the time and health factors are shorter. 

We say we value wealth, but when we really think about it, most of us value health and time more.

The question is whether we’re actually living that way.

I think a lot of people miss that window entirely. And I think the reason they miss it has very little to do with logistics or finances or planning. 

I think they miss it because their nervous system won’t let them step into it.

I want to talk about that. Because Rob and I are right in the middle of ours, and I almost missed it too.

Two Health Scares That Changed Everything

When Rob was 42, he had a widow maker heart attack. If you don’t know that term, the name tells you everything you need to know. The fatality rate is around 90%.

Spoiler alert 😀: He survived.

And honestly, for a while we just kept going because that’s what you do, especially when you are busy raising 5 kids and navigating tricky family dynamics around shared custody. But you feel grateful, you feel shaken, and then life pulls you back into the chaos – good and bad.

Then at 53, Rob was diagnosed with prostate cancer.

I’ve written about this before, but the short version is that my dad died of prostate cancer when my second son was four months old.

So even though every single doctor told me Rob’s situation was different, was treatable, he was going to be fine, my nervous system only knew one story.

And that story ended in loss.

Rob went through treatment. He’s OK. We’re OK.

But something shifted in both of us after that second scare.

Something that I don’t think fully shifts until your body (or your partner’s body) reminds you in the most visceral way possible that time is not guaranteed.

When you hear the word “cancer”, regardless of prognosis, your nervous system has a stake down, and that for us triggered deep contemplation.

We decided we needed to stop saying “someday.”

Perkins writes about how people in their later years keep saving and saving their money, and he wants to ask them: when exactly is this huge party you’re saving for?

And when exactly do you stop? You work and work and work, and if you end up with extra money at the end, that means you could have worked less and lived more.

So after two health scares that could have had different endings, the questions of what are you saving for and when do you stop found their way into our everyday conversations…

The Math We’d Been Doing Our Whole Lives

Rob and I have always played a little game with our finances. And I’m not sure if the “real financial gurus” would agree with our game, but it worked for us.

We’d put as much as we possibly could into our RSPs (retirement savings plan in Canada where you get a tax break) every year, always taking advantage of any company match (which Rob was lucky enough to have; I never did bcs I’ve been self employed our whole marriage), and then we’d take whatever came back in our tax return and put it toward travel.

Travel was our absolute number one priority.

We were never the couple who does the big renovations or redesigns frequently with new furniture.

I like to say our house is loved and lived in, and yes, some things could definitely use updating. (Our kids make fun of us because we have two old TVs in our house, and one is really pretty small.)

But we made a choice very early on that we were going to be “experience and travel people”, not reno and accumulation people. That’s not a judgment on anyone who chooses differently. It’s just what felt right for us. And we couldn’t afford both, especially with 5 kids.

But the research actually backs this up, and since I’m all about research, I had to oblige…

There’s a concept called hedonic adaptation (sometimes called the “hedonic treadmill”) that shows we tend to return to a baseline level of happiness after any purchase. You buy the new car, you feel great for a while, and then it just becomes your car.

But experiences work differently. They become part of your identity, your stories, the way you connect with the people you shared them with. You don’t adapt to a memory the same way you adapt to a thing.

Another thing we also invested heavily in is our brains. Courses, trainings, certifications (mainly me!), hobbies (mainly Rob!).

These are things that may not look like traditional “investments” on paper, but I genuinely believe add years to your life because they keep you curious and growing and connected to something that matters.

Now I want acknowledge that not everyone comes from the same starting place. Rob had a good, steady job for 30 years. I’ve been successfully self-employed for over two decades. We have been genuinely blessed, and we know it.

So when I talk about choosing experiences over accumulation, I want to make sure I acknowledge the mix of privilege and choices (for both experience and accumulation people).

We had the privilege of steady employment with income to make choices with. And then we made choices that not everyone would make, and not everyone would agree with. Both of those things are true.

I share our story not because I think everyone should do what we’re doing, but because I think the questions are worth asking regardless of where you’re starting from.

A friend of mine says something that I come back to all the time: “We can always make more money tomorrow.”

And she’s right. But we cannot make more time.

We can always makes more money tomorrow. But we cannot make more time.

Investing in Memory Dividends

This is one of my favourite concepts from Die with Zero, and it’s one that Rob and I have lived with for years without knowing it had a name.

Perkins talks about “memory dividends,” the idea that when you invest in an experience, you don’t just enjoy it once. You get to anticipate it beforehand, enjoy it in the moment, and then relive it every single time you recall or retell it. And those memories compound over time. The earlier you invest, the more dividends you collect.

When Rob and I met, we were both in our mid-thirties and had each been through a divorce. We felt financially behind. But our kids were between 3 and 10, and we knew that time with them at those ages was finite. Our oldest would only be with us for about eight more years.

So we made a choice. We were going to save for the future, yes. But we were also going to invest in experiences with our kids, especially travel, because that was a huge priority for both of us.

And the dividends from those investments? We are still collecting them. 

Every family dinner where someone says “remember when…” and we’re all laughing about some mishap from a trip years ago? That’s a memory dividend.

Every time one of our kids references something they experienced on a family trip that shaped how they see the world? Dividend. We didn’t know the term back then, but we were building a portfolio of experiences, and it has paid us back over and over.

I look at my kids now and their own sense of wonder, adventure and travel. I consider those all memory dividends for both them and me.

Asking: What Are We Actually Saving For?

Here’s where things got interesting for us.

Because Rob and I both went through divorces and had to start over financially, we are not where a lot of our peers are at this stage. We have a big mortgage. We don’t have the same nest egg that some people our age have been building for decades without interruption.

And for a long time, that felt like a reason to keep our heads down and keep saving. Keep being responsible. Keep waiting until the numbers looked “right.”

But then we watched our five kids go out into the world now and live these adventurous lives. Gap years, backpacking through Europe and Asia, studying abroad. 

And Rob and I kept looking at each other saying, how come they get to do that?

But then we looked at each other and asked, “what exactly are we saving for?”

Are we saving so that we can do these things at 70, when our bodies might not cooperate the way they do now? Are we saving so we can look at a bank account and feel secure while the window quietly closes? Are we saving to leave our kids an inheritance (and while I know they will probably say “yes!!”, I’m pretty confident they will be building their own lives too and chances as any inheritance will only land with them when they are in their 50’s, 60’s or 70’s (I plan on living until 98 like my grandmother!) 

Perkins talks about “time buckets,” the idea that different seasons of life are suited to different experiences. There are things you can do in your 30’s that you can’t do at seventy. And things you can savour at 70 that you wouldn’t have appreciated at 30.

The point is to be intentional about matching your experiences to the season you’re actually in, instead of putting everything on a “someday” list that keeps getting pushed forward.

Rob and I looked at our season (50’s) and realized we were sitting right in the overlap: Still healthy. Enough resources to make it work. And for the first time in our adult lives, our kids are all launched (well, some of them are in partial launch mode, but enough…)and living their own lives.

I’m not saying we threw responsibility out the window. My nervous system truthfully could not support that right now. I am still running my business remotely. And Rob, after 30 years of steady employment followed by some job changes after his treatment, is looking for his next opportunity. Something that actually aligns with who he is now, because after working for so many years and going through what he went through, that matters more than just finding the next paycheque.

We had actually been planning and saving for a formal gap year down the road. We had a good plan. And then life rearranged it for us. Rob’s job changes created an unexpected opening, and instead of waiting for the “perfect” version of what we’d imagined, we asked ourselves: what can we do right now with what we have?

And that’s how we ended up in Europe for several months. First Portugal (where this whole Substack series started), and now we’re writing this from Montenegro with five more weeks of travel ahead of us.

A Word About Kids and Being “Good Parents” 

I want to say something here that I think a lot of midlife parents feel but don’t always feel permission to voice. At least, this is what I hear from many in the circles I move in. 

When your kids are young, you pour everything into them. Your time, your money, your energy, your identity. And that is beautiful and worth every second.

We helped all five of our kids with their education. We saved for them from the time they were born, not to cover 100% (because we believe they need to invest in themselves too), but enough to give them a meaningful foundation.

But there comes a point where you realize that your kids are adults now, making their own financial decisions, building their own lives, choosing how to spend their time and money. And you start to notice that you’re still operating like the person whose only job is to give.

The shift that happened for me wasn’t about my kids doing anything wrong.

It was about me realizing that I am more than just a parent. I have a life to explore. I have experiences I want to have. And giving myself permission to invest in those experiences is not selfish. It’s necessary.

If we have things to give or leave for our kids, we will. We love our kids and we always want to be generous with them. But we are also taking care of ourselves now. We are living now. And I’ve stopped treating that like something I need to apologize for.

Perkins actually talks about this too. He calls it “stealth inheritance,” the idea that if you’re going to give to your kids, giving while you’re alive and while they’re at a stage where it can make a real difference has more impact than leaving it behind. I love that concept. I also love the idea that some of the best things I can give my kids right now are shared experiences and memories together (and frankly they do not have to cost money, or mean I have to sacrifice my own experiences). 

I am also mindful that my kids have many years ahead of them to work and save for their future. Make decisions on how to earn, save, and spend.

We may not have the same luxury, so it is ok for us to be looking out for us now.

What Your Nervous System Does With the Window

I also want to share that even though I can write all this, and it can make perfect logical sense (at least to me!), my brain still does a number on me.

And I don’t think I am alone (at least I hope not!). I think a lot of people can see “the window” intellectually. They can look at their lives and recognize that they have enough health, enough resources, and more flexibility than they’ve had in years. They can see it.

But they can’t step into it.

And I think the reason is that their nervous system is still in saving mode. And I don’t just mean financially.

I mean the kind of saving where your body has been in “prepare for the worst” mode for so long that it doesn’t know how to shift into “this is actually okay right now.” 

Where decades of responsibility and sacrifice and being the person who holds it all together have trained your system to brace. To scan for what could go wrong. To treat any moment of ease with suspicion. 

I know this because I lived it. I am still living it some days. 

(If you don’t believe me, just ask Rob. It kind of drives him crazy (I definitely have been infected more lol).

When Rob and I first got to Portugal, I wrote about the waves of anxiety I was feeling. Not because anything was going wrong, but because my nervous system could not reconcile “we are doing something adventurous and uncertain” with “we are going to be OK.” 

I also kept asking myself, am I enjoying this enough? Am I appreciating this? Am I maximizing this?

And then I realized (with a little help) that those questions were just my survival brain doing what it has always done: trying to control the experience so it could feel safe.

The window I’m talking about doesn’t ask you to have it all figured out. The window asks you to step in while it’s open, even if your system is still catching up.

Perkins talks about the “net fulfillment curve,” the idea that saving too much can actually decrease your overall life satisfaction. 

I think there’s a nervous system version of that curve too. There’s a point where the bracing, the scanning, the constant calculating of “are we OK?” stops protecting you and starts costing you the very experiences you’ve been working toward.

It is a constant back and forth with my brain and nervous system about this…still. First step is awareness though, right?

Experience Over Accumulation (Even When It’s Scary)

It’s fair to mention that I am not writing this from some place of financial freedom where the numbers don’t matter.

The numbers matter.

But, I am learning they just don’t get to be the only thing that matters anymore.

We have made a conscious choice, again and again throughout our lives, to prioritize experience over accumulation. And sometimes that choice is easy and exciting, and sometimes it is genuinely scary because the math doesn’t look perfect and the future isn’t certain.

But I keep coming back to this: Rob survived a 90% fatality rate heart attack at 42. He beat prostate cancer at 53. My dad did not get that chance.

We are not waiting for the window to open wider. We are climbing through it right now, and we are doing it while it’s still open.

What I Invite You to Sit With

If you’re reading this and you’re in midlife, I want you to think about the window. 

Your window.

Not as some financial planning concept or retirement strategy. But as a real, physical, time-limited season of your life where your health, your resources, and your time might actually be overlapping right now.

And then I want you to ask yourself what your nervous system is doing with that information.

Is it letting you step in? Or is it keeping you in bracing mode, telling you to wait a little longer, save a little more, get a little more certain before you allow yourself to really live?

Because the window doesn’t send you a notification when it starts closing. It just closes.

And from what I hear from people who are further down the road, the thing they regret isn’t the money they spent. It’s the window they didn’t use. The trip they kept delaying. The relationship they didn’t invest in. The experience they kept saying they’d get to “when things settled down.”

Things don’t settle down. You just run out of time.

Whatever your version of climbing through the window looks like (and it doesn’t have to be travel, it doesn’t have to look like ours), I hope you’ll think about whether you’re actually stepping into it or watching it from the other side of the glass. Maybe it’s the trip. Maybe it’s the course or the training or the hobby you keep putting off. Maybe it’s investing in time with the people who matter most, right now, while everyone is still healthy and able to show up for it.

We’re in Montenegro right now. The city, the water, the mountains are all gorgeous. The pace is slow. 

And I still have moments where my brain wants to spiral about all the things that aren’t figured out yet.

But we’re here. Inside the window. And I am so glad we didn’t wait.

xoxo