$pent Millennial

Dear Reader,

Future me is so spoiled.

She has me looking out for her.

And nobody knows how to spoil me like me.

I know exactly what I like. And how I like it.

For as long as I can remember, I have been future-oriented. Intrinsically motivated. Always thinking a few steps ahead. Sometimes to a fault.

It shows up in small ways. Like stopping at the store on a Friday night for laundry cash and ingredients for Saturday morning breakfast when I am already exhausted, and the couch is calling my name — because I know Saturday morning me will be grateful to wake up and make breakfast without another errand hanging over my head.

It shows up in hurrying to finish the vacuuming after a long workweek because I know how much calmer it feels to wake up Saturday morning with that chore already done.

And it shows up in bigger ways,  too. Saving for holidays before they arrive. Setting aside money for car repairs before something breaks. Contributing toward retirement. Spending intentionally in the present so future me has options, flexibility, and peace.

It is less about restriction and more about care-taking. Stewardship. An act of love toward a version of myself I have not met yet.

Looking out for future you matters. Especially because so much of our culture encourages the opposite.

There is a retirement crisis in this country. Many people are struggling to save at all. And to be fair, I understand why. It is hard to prioritize future you when current you is drowning. When rent is high, groceries are expensive, wages are stretched, and you are just trying to keep your head above water.

But there is also another mindset at play sometimes — the “live for today” mentality taken to an extreme. Doom spending. Buy now, pay later. Financing lifestyles that cash flow cannot actually support. Bigger houses than budgets can reasonably sustain. Credit card balances that quietly grow heavier month after month.

And often, it is not one or the other, but a complicated mix of both. People trying to create moments of comfort, joy, or relief in the present while unintentionally making life even harder for future them. The result is that catching up becomes harder and harder. Future them never gets a chance to breathe.

Still, there is another danger too.

The danger of living so much for future you that you forget to actually live- because future you is always one year away.

Ramit Sethi, author of I Will Teach You to Be Rich, says, “It is tragic to live a smaller life than you have to.”

And lately, I have been sitting with that question:

When is it discipline… and when is it playing small?

This thought came up again this past week. Our cabinets, fridge, and freezer were looking lean, and our grocery budget was gone — as tends to happen toward month’s end.

We still had enough. More than enough, really. Monday’s spaghetti night — a little ritual I created to make Mondays feel easier — was still happening.

But dinner that night looked a little different. We split two plant-based meatballs between us and each had half of a garlic knot alongside our pasta.

Could we have stopped and bought another box of garlic knots? Absolutely. Our cash flow would have allowed it, and honestly, we probably would not have even noticed the extra few dollars.

But for us, it was about principle. About honoring the budget we had already decided on.

And it did not feel like deprivation — likely because we knew we could if we wanted to, and I do not dismiss the privilege in that. Instead, it felt intentional. Grounding.

There was gratitude in it. Gratitude for the spaghetti, the sauce, the little extras of meatballs and garlic bread that made an ordinary Monday feel comforting.

And honestly, there was something strangely beautiful about it too. A humble reminder of where we have been and how far we have come. Because there were seasons of life where we truly did not have the extra few dollars for more garlic knots.

This grocery budget has done a lot of good for us. It has helped get us here.

Sure, we could increase it to better “keep up” with rising prices. But we know every dollar allocated there is a dollar pulled from somewhere else — from guilt-free spending that allows us coffee dates and occasional meals out, from charitable giving, or from savings that protect and provide for future us.

So for now, we are keeping it where it is, even if some meals feel a little leaner or simpler near the end of the month. To us, that does not feel like living small. It feels mindful. Grounded. A quiet confidence that enough is enough.

But there is another area of our lives where this question — about living smaller than we have to — has been lingering a little louder.

Housing.

One of the financial choices that has helped us build stability while still enjoying a beautiful life has been our apartment. We have been fortunate to find a reasonably priced place in a beautiful, walkable neighborhood.

And despite the occasional frustrations that come with apartment living and older buildings, this setup has allowed us to maintain relatively low housing costs while still enjoying a quality of life we genuinely love. It has given us room to save, plan, and care for future us.

But lately, we have been talking seriously about buying a house.

And honestly? It is hard not to feel overwhelmed.

Everywhere you look there are warnings: interest rates, rising costs, stories of homebuyer’s remorse, impossible housing markets, unexpected repairs. Pair that with the awareness that our current housing situation has felt a bit like a financial “hack,” and it becomes difficult to know when making the leap is wise… or reckless.

And yet, this is one of those places where staying exactly where we are is beginning to feel a little like living smaller than we have to. Not in a dramatic way. But in the quiet sense that eventually, growth asks something new of us.

So lately I have been wrestling with this question:

How do we know when to keep honoring the habits and choices that got us here… and when to recognize that they may not be what carries us into the next chapter?

How do we stay grounded in gratitude and discipline without becoming trapped there?

How do we honor where we came from while still allowing ourselves to grow into who we are becoming?

I do not think the answer is found in abandoning discipline. Nor do I think it is found in endlessly delaying joy and growth in the name of “someday.”

Maybe the balance is in caring for future you while remembering that current you is also deserving of a full, meaningful life.

Not a reckless life. Not a performative one. Not a life spent chasing bigger for the sake of bigger.

But a life that makes room for both wisdom and possibility. Security and growth. Contentment and aspiration.

A life that honors the past without forcing you to stay there forever.

Until next week — take care of both your current self and your future one.

Everett