This post makes a bold claim: instead of chasing happiness, we should aim for purpose and accept struggle.
Sit with that for a minute. Happiness is just a fleeting feeling—like the red dot cats chase. We’re obsessed with it. Even in a society with more material comforts than most people in history, many of us still feel empty. There are endless books about how to be happier—Gretchen Rubin seems to dominate the shelf. If you haven’t read a happiness book in the last few years, you’re practically missing out.
Here’s the catch: happiness comes and goes on its own. It’s like a sunny day that shows up sometimes but can’t be counted on. Contentment is a steadier aim—less fickle and longer lasting. If you’re content, you’ve achieved things, feel loved, or reached milestones that quiet the noise. But contentment can also deceive; just when you think you’ve arrived, hedonic adaptation and Maslow’s needs remind you it’s not permanent.
Early retirement opens doors—give up the day job early and new possibilities appear. If the cubicle feels like a trap, you’ll probably find activities that keep you away from a screen. Figuring out purpose and passion could mean staying home to raise kids, traveling to volunteer, or helping out in your local community—there are needs everywhere. But you can also fall into the trap of retiring early just to flee a bad situation. That’s why this blog often asks: what comes after early retirement?
I’ve written about avoiding a life you’ll regret, which helps me build the confidence to actually step away when the time feels right—maybe late next summer?
A line I keep returning to lately: “The key to a deeper, healthier life isn’t knowing the meaning of life — it’s building meaning into your life.” I’m a seeker by nature—I want to know the meaning of life. As a planner who’s always picturing the future, that idea keeps me grounded. Who doesn’t want a richer, healthier life? Yet our culture seems determined to remove struggle and purpose from daily life. Instead we get 24-hour news, social media, and drone delivery.
It’s interesting: the longer I’ve been in my career, the easier it is to tolerate workplace nonsense. Fresh out of college I barely knew anything, but I needed a job. Over the next decade or so I ground myself down trying to understand emotional intelligence and self-awareness. Somehow the last ten years have brought a kind of mastery. Stick with something long enough and you figure it out. Instead of banging your head against office politics, you learn to navigate the waters.
Stuck on a team with a toxic culture? Get out of there. But don’t abandon the idea of work just because one place is bad. I’m at a point where I can control enough variables to make my job workable. It’s almost tolerable—great boss, good people, a strong culture, and a high-performing company. I can even bike to work and shower with hot water. Compared to life in Yemen, I have nothing to complain about.
Anthony Bourdain’s death still feels unreal. I’m selfishly upset—mad that he’s gone. I never met him, but if anyone had the dream job it seemed to be him: traveling the world, seeing beyond tourist spots, learning about people and food, and highlighting inequality. He was the ultimate seeker—restless, tirelessly working, worn by past addictions and depression. Maybe signs were there, maybe not.
In my search for what makes people thrive, I keep coming back to the Blue Zones studies. Want to know what makes a long-lived, healthy society? Look at what they don’t have: many of the modern distractions we treat as must-haves. Cut through those distractions and finding purpose becomes easier. As for me, I’m still working on many of the Blue Zones habits—there’s a lot of room for improvement. I’ve also wondered whether travel—something I dream about—could be another form of escape, like quitting the cubicle.
A recent article I read about “Deaths of Despair” among middle-aged white Americans grabbed my attention. Do those deaths connect to the early-retirement, frugal-stoic lifestyle that many bloggers promote? Can focusing on purpose and struggle help?
The alarming finding: life expectancy for middle-aged white Americans dropped while it rose for European whites over the same 15-year stretch. For decades after World War II, life expectancy climbed year after year—now we see a reversal. Anne Case and Angus Deaton point to the disappearance of steady, well-paying jobs—skilled factory or mining jobs often backed by unions, with decent pay, health benefits, and pensions. These jobs allowed working-class families to afford homes, cars, and a middle-class life.
Since the early 1980s, many of those jobs moved overseas. Whether the goal was to outspend the Soviets in the Cold War or to boost profits, the result is the same: the kinds of jobs that once supported communities aren’t as common. Do we still expect to enjoy the postwar spoils, or do we need to compete in new, more complex parts of the global economy while preventing huge gaps between haves and have-nots?
A different study offers clues. The 2017 report on the World’s Happiest Countries puts Norway and Denmark at the top; the U.S. sits at 14. I’ve visited Norway—beautiful, with active, fit people. Norway is wealthy—thanks in part to offshore oil—but it doesn’t flaunt that wealth. Norwegians and Danes have more equal societies and value useful trades as well as higher education. The American white working class of the 1960s and ’70s had something like this: steady, well-paying work and social stability. Modern Scandinavia looks similar in some ways to that old American middle class.
Maybe the answer is obvious in principle: stable, meaningful work that pays middle-class wages and includes benefits is a huge part of the puzzle. Without that, social ties fray. That’s the “struggle” side of purpose: work that matters and supports you. In the U.S., growing wealth gaps, drugs, alcohol, and excessive screen time weaken community bonds.
Once a society provides meaningful work, health care, education, safety, and so on, what can an individual do to find contentment? Look to the Danes and their idea of hygge—finding joy in simple pleasures and strong relationships. The early-retirement crowd often shares that mindset: we aim for meeting basic needs, tending relationships, and avoiding the pointless pursuit of big stuff like McMansions and flashy toys. Early retirees work hard to build safety nets and then focus on family, gardens, and everyday tasks.
Sound perfect? If only we could clone Denmark. But we’re not Denmark. The early-retirement community is a small slice of mostly college-educated people. Many American communities—across races and regions—are in real pain. Are policy changes part of the fix? Maybe, if we can agree that smart policy is essential. Some resist “big government” yet still expect leaders to solve problems. Maybe the right approach mixes policies that give people a start and then empower them to do more. That’s a big topic—someone else should write that post.
I’m an optimist. I’ve felt down, but I’ve never had clinical depression and I count myself lucky. Carol Tavris put it well: as TV grew in the 1950s and ’60s, inventors and DIY people declined. Many choose passive pleasures that numb the mind and stop the search for meaning. But those challenging activities are where real satisfaction lives. Happiness isn’t about endless pleasure; it’s about meaningful challenge, focused possibilities, engagement with the world, and doing things yourself. An unlived life isn’t worth examining.
I don’t want readers to think I’m linking Bourdain’s suicide to a lack of purpose. He did more than most to build compassion and understanding for overlooked communities, and he seemed to find joy in his work despite the exhaustion. He had purpose, he struggled, and still depression can reach anyone.