I did something kind of dumb this year.
After losing my job last year, I rolled my 401(k) into a brokerage account. I felt pretty accomplished just getting the paperwork done and seeing the money land safely in its new home.
Then… I forgot about it.
Well, not exactly forgot. I just assumed it was doing what it had always done before—quietly growing in the background.
Nearly a year later, I happened to look at it.
In almost eleven months, it had earned about 1.5%.
I stared at the screen in disbelief.
How had I gone almost an entire year without realizing I still needed to invest the money?
No one had ever taught me that part. When my retirement account lived with my employer, everything happened automatically. Once the money was in my own hands, it was my responsibility.
Lesson learned.
I invested it that day.
Three months later, it’s already grown more than it did in the previous eleven.
That one mistake got me thinking.
Not just about retirement—but about time.
I found myself wishing I’d done more for Future Lexi years ago.
I wish I’d contributed a little more to retirement.
I wish I’d started investing sooner.
I wish I’d been more consistent with my health instead of waiting until I felt motivated.
I wish I’d spent a few minutes drawing every day instead of assuming I’d “have more time later.”
None of those things required giant leaps. They just required showing up, over and over again.
It’s funny how easy it is to underestimate what small actions become after ten years.
One dollar.
One page.
One sketch.
One walk.
One workout.
One chapter.
One tiny decision, repeated often enough, eventually becomes part of who you are.
These days, as I’m building a business of my own, I think about the future differently.
There’s no employer contributing to my retirement anymore. No one setting aside money on my behalf. No one mapping out the next step for me.
That’s my job now.
And honestly? That’s a little scary.
But it’s also strangely empowering.
Because if my future depends on the choices I make today, then today matters a whole lot more than I used to think.
I’ve stopped asking myself what I wish I’d done ten years ago.
Instead, I’ve started asking myself what I hope ten-years-from-now Lexi will thank me for.
Maybe it’s putting a little extra toward retirement.
Maybe it’s going for today’s walk.
Maybe it’s practicing my drawing for fifteen minutes.
Maybe it’s reading one more chapter before bed.
The days are long, but the years really are short.
Ten years from now is coming whether I prepare for it or not.
So I’m choosing to do something—however small—for Future Me today.
I hope she’ll be glad I did.
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