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Research from Stanford Medicine reveals that aging happens in sudden shifts — not gradual decline. Here is a roadmap for deciding when your money should be used when factoring in good health.
When Your Body Peaks vs When Your Money Peaks
I’ve sat across from a lot of people who spent their financial lives doing everything right. They contributed significantly to their 401(k). They stayed the course through volatile markets. They deferred and saved and planned.
Then, they retired at 65 and watched their nest egg continue to grow; the habit of not spending had calcified into the default mode of their lives. What most current and prospective retirees don’t know, and what many financial plans don’t factor in, is that there’s a risk in financial planning that doesn’t show up in projections or Monte Carlo simulations: Capability Risk, or the risk that your wealth arrives after your ability to fully use it. Money compounds, but your ability to enjoy it doesn’t.
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How Travel Became a Protected Expense in a Fragmented Economy  Have you been to an airport lately?
Lines at security, crowded gates, flight after flight going out full. It feels like this century's Roaring 20s, an unexpected dynamic in an economy that, by most traditional measures, appears to be slowing down. Anecdotal as it may be, the crowding reflects a meaningful shift in how households are spending their discretionary dollars. Experiences, especially travel, have moved to the top of the priority list. There are several possible explanations: a post-pandemic reordering of priorities, the relentless visual pressure of social media status, or simply a growing acceptance of what psychologists have argued for years — that experiences tend to deliver more lasting satisfaction than material goods. I'll leave the cause for another day to focus on the outcome: travel has moved out of the discretionary bucket and into something that feels closer to a personal necessity. That thesis is becoming increasingly visible in company reporting. Even as consumer sentiment reflects ongoing concern around inflation, unemployment, and broader economic conditions, the travel industry is booming. My takeaway: the trip has become non-negotiable, but the way we travel has become increasingly fragmented across income levels. Why people consistently make the mistake of confusing the two  Over the past few weeks, the headlines have looked increasingly uncomfortable.
February Payrolls unexpectedly fell by 92,000 and the unemployment rate ticked up to 4.4%.¹ Retail sales slipped.² Oil launched to the largest percentage gain in one week since 1983.³ Inflation expectations are rising again.⁴ Consumer sentiment, as measured by the University of Michigan, sits at 56.6, compared to a historical average closer to 84 (a level that often appeared only on the eve of a recession in prior cycles).⁵ Judging by the comment sections on these headlines, you might think the economy is headed for complete destruction, and your investments along with it. While volatility is certainly starting to pick up lately, the S&P 500 remains well within range of its peak; at these levels, the 'crisis' is mostly just noise. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the current market action proves to be a mere footnote in the 2026 performance report. It is a disconnect that leaves even seasoned investors baffled. If the macro environment feels this fragile, shouldn't the indices be much lower? This misconception has tripped up many generations of investors: the stock market is not the economy. Conflating the two is an expensive mistake, yet it’s one that countless investors make every single cycle. Many People Don't Need to Hire a Financial Planner. Here's How to Know If You're the Exception.3/3/2026  The financial advice industry operates on a simple assumption: professional guidance improves outcomes, no matter the client background. The reality is more conditional than absolute.
Some people try to captain their own financial ship and pay dearly for avoidable mistakes. Others would simply be giving away money by hiring an advisor. The goal of this article is not to sell you either way, but instead to help you figure out which type of investor you are, and whether you actually need to hire a planner based on that determination. Financial advice is more of a tool than an obligation, and like all tools, its value depends entirely on who’s using it and in what situation.  There is roughly a 50% chance that at least one partner in a married couple will live into their 90s.¹ And the 90+ population is projected to grow rapidly as medical advancements continue to push life expectancy further into the 21st century.
Simply put, we are living longer than ever, yet we continue to invest as if life ends at 65. From the autopilot glidepaths of Target Date Funds that begin cutting growth decades too early, to retirees who stay "defensive" five years into a thirty-year retirement, the typical investor has traded the temporary discomfort of market volatility for the permanent risk of outliving their money. While a number of factors contribute to seniors’ affection for low-risk assets (the 24-hour news cycle, structural pessimism², etc.), the advice industry itself has normalized excessive conservatism as the default. My view is more straightforward: unless you are in the Retirement Risk Window (the critical five-year window immediately surrounding your work exit date), over-allocation to safety has likely harmed long-term outcomes more than it has protected them.  This year's tax refund season is shaping up to be quite a boon for taxpayers. Early reports have the average IRS tax refund is up 10.9% so far this season, with an average refund amount of $2,290.¹
For many Americans, this means a check of several thousand dollars or more landing in their bank account. The annual question remains: save it or spend it? Research suggests the answer depends less on your willpower and more on how your brain categorizes that money.  I recently watched Jay Kelly on Netflix, where George Clooney plays a fictional movie star who dedicates his life to his craft and succeeds by every external measure. The catch? He later admits to choosing his career over his family, only to realize he’s missed many of life’s most meaningful moments and relationships.
I don’t generally sit down to watch a movie looking for financial metaphors, that would be weird. But every so often, a story brushes up against a question I already spend time thinking about. In this case, Jay Kelly’s story happened to remind me of the FIRE movement. Whether it’s Coast, Lean, or Fat FIRE, the core philosophy is the same: front-load sacrifice in your early years to buy freedom later. The math is sound. Saving aggressively from an early age is essentially the equivalent of a financial superpower. The appeal is also undeniable. Who doesn’t want the freedom to do whatever they want in their 40s? I’ve always joked that my dream job is retirement, and FIRE is a good mechanism for getting me there. But the FIRE movement raises a complicated set of questions. What are the movement’s disciples missing by deferring their lives in their 20s and 30s? And how do we find the "goldilocks" zone between saving responsibly for the future and actually living along the way?  Budgeting may easily be the least sexy habit in personal finance. And to be honest, it can really suck. It’s tedious, it’s boring, and it often confronts us with truths we’d rather keep in the background.
In my line of work, I routinely hear clients say: “Well, we tried tracking our spending, but life just got in the way and we couldn’t keep it consistent. If things ever get tight, we’ll hunker down then.” But that’s just kicking the can down a road paved with hidden stress. Eventually, a "surprise" expense or heavy financial decision reveals that we weren't as prepared as originally thought. We avoid facing the discomfort for the sake of "ignorant bliss," but as with any bad habit, the cost of that clarity-avoidance compounds.  As gold rockets toward historic highs, analysts are rounding up the usual suspects: sticky inflation, shifting interest rates, geopolitics, and the maneuvers of central banks. All of which are valid.
Underneath the technical explanations, however, sits a powerful force: gold is acting as a live read on public emotion. When uncertainty and greed take the wheel, gold stops behaving like a commodity and starts behaving like emotional insurance. It has become a primary vehicle for investor anxiety, a way 'do something' when the world feels unpredictable. The result: portfolio allocations designed to feel protective in the moment that can often work against long-term outcomes. At The New Diligence, I spend a lot of time on how psychology quietly drives financial decisions. Few assets capture that dynamic more clearly than gold during periods of stress. It reveals a fundamental truth about our nature: we don't buy 'safety' when it’s cheap and boring; we chase it when the fear is loudest.  William is a 63-year-old who plans to retire next year. His portfolio is heavily concentrated in technology stocks and a handful of individual companies that have delivered spectacular returns over the past decade. He's watched his nest egg grow substantially, far outpacing his more conservative friends who diversified into bonds and international equities.
When his financial advisor gently suggests rebalancing into a more age-appropriate allocation, William pushes back: "Why would I change what's working? These holdings have funded my entire retirement." William believes his success validates his strategy. In reality, he may be falling victim to a classic behavioral trap: the status quo bias. And at this life stage, the stakes are high.  What is it about the flip of the calendar that makes us feel ready to turn a new leaf?
A new year feels like a clean slate. A fresh start. Suddenly, it seems like the right moment to get back to the gym, eat a little better, and finally get our finances in better shape—as if somehow, an arbitrary number can help us mentally separate who we were from who we want to become. It’s one reason financial resolutions are so common in January. Saving more, spending less, and investing more thoughtfully are among the most popular and sincere goals people set. And yet, by February, many of those resolutions have quietly faded. The temptations haven’t changed. Unexpected expenses still show up. Daily life looks a lot like it did last October. So why does this keep happening?  We are taught to measure wealth by what we keep, yet we define ourselves by what we give. During the holidays, this paradox is put to the ultimate test. For some, giving is a grounding act of agency; for others, it is a performative tax that leaves them feeling depleted rather than connected.
The holiday season has a way of exposing the subtle difference between giving that feels joyful and giving that feels heavy. The difference isn’t how much money is involved (though of course, having more money never hurts). It’s what giving represents. True generosity, it turns out, requires a kind of intentionality that holiday pressure can dilute. It's about finding a way to turn giving into what it's meant to be: a meaningful expression of care rather than a demonstration of resource management.  When you hear the word advertisement, what comes to mind?
A TV commercial? Maybe a billboard on the highway or a bus? The painfully unskippable 30 seconds before a YouTube video? For decades, advertising announced itself. And over time, we learned how to ignore it. Popups, sponsored news content, promoted websites. We’ve become increasingly attuned by filtering out the noise. But of course, every time we adapt to a new style of advertisement, a more effective one takes its place. Today, social media has essentially erased the boundary between content and advertisement, making it increasingly difficult to spot an ad six inches from our face. One moment we’re watching a humor-filled reel. The next, we're being pitched products by an influencer in their messy (but familiar) bedroom. We don’t brace ourselves for a sales pitch because it doesn’t feel like one. After all, who expects an ad from someone who looks like a friend? Ads have never been this well camouflaged, and the numbers prove it's working: social media advertising hit $276 billion in 2025 and shows no signs of slowing down¹. Companies are following the returns, and those returns are staggering. In this article, I want to unpack why social media ads are so profitable for companies, how they’re getting increasingly invasive, and what we can actually do about it.  The democratization of investing has been heralded as one of the great financial achievements of the digital age. With just a few quick taps on a phone, virtually anyone can execute trades in milliseconds and track their portfolio in real-time. Apps like Robinhood transformed investing from something distant and complex into an accessible, even thrilling, experience for younger investors.
But with that progress comes a hidden downside. Digital platforms amplify one of the most dangerous biases in investing: Overconfidence. Digital overconfidence is basically a modern manifestation of the classic overconfidence bias that has plagued investors for generations¹. What makes it particularly difficult to navigate today is the way digital trading platforms have engineered features that effectively exploit our vulnerabilities, turning casual investors into overconfident traders who mistake luck for skill and activity for expertise.  You're reading this just after Black Friday and Cyber Monday, the unofficial Olympic Games if impulse spending. Billions of dollars flew across checkout pages in a 96-hour sprint, and retailers everywhere are still high-fiving their data scientists. The party isn’t over, however, as it’s time to gear up for the next round: holiday shopping, Secret Santa pressure, and the constant drip of “last chance” year-end deals.
Somewhere in the last decade, online shopping has transformed from a convenient alternative to purchasing goods to a finely engineered behavioral machine designed to get you to overspend. The digital economy depends on our wallets, and it’s increasingly turning to addiction science to extract more of our hard-earned dollars. Just look at the numbers: this year, Americans are expected to take on $55 billion in post-holiday debt, with the average shopper dropping $300–$340 on Black Friday and Cyber Monday alone¹. And that’s before the December avalanche even begins. Consumer debt is one of the biggest obstacles to long-term financial well-being, so it’s worth understanding what we're up against. What makes online shopping so exhilarating? What is that irresistible feeling we get right before clicking purchase? Why does that impulse make it so difficult to stop? By analyzing this unconscious pressure, we can gain the tools to combat it and reclaim our spending decisions. 
If you had to guess, how much money would you say you spend on monthly subscriptions?
...It’s hard to remember without looking at a statement, right? For reference, my household spends $133/month on subscriptions before counting gym memberships, Wi-Fi, or cell phone bills. My point is: the subscription model is so seamlessly woven into our daily lives that it feels normal. Streaming platforms, fitness apps, software tools, meal kits, medical products, even toothbrushes! Behind the convenience lies a system that exploits human psychology. And the financial consequences may be more damaging than you realize. At The New Diligence, I like to explore how subtle behavioral patterns shape financial behavior. Few systems illustrate this better than the modern subscription economy. |
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