May Update: What I am doing to Invest in My Future (While Still Living My Best Life Now)

A woman at her desk, sipping coffee while working, surrounded by office supplies and a warm atmosphere

A little while back, I shared the 7 things I was doing to build a life that feels good; emotionally, mentally, and financially. That post was about grounding myself in the present. This one is about gently looking forward.

Because here’s the truth: I want to live fully now and make choices that support the future version of me. Not the anxious future I used to worry about endlessly; but the kind that feels supported, intentional, and light. I’m learning that investing in your future doesn’t have to mean spreadsheets and sacrifice. Sometimes, it just means trusting small, thoughtful decisions to compound quietly over time.

Here’s what that looks like for me this May.

I’ve stopped obsessing over five-year plans. I’m building rhythm, not rigid goals.

I used to feel like I needed to map everything out to the letter: career moves, property dreams, savings targets. But the more I tried to control every future outcome, the more boxed-in I felt in the present.

So lately, I’ve been building habits that are flexible enough to flow with life; weekly money check-ins instead of rigid monthly targets, saving in % rather than fixed amounts, and trusting that consistency will serve me more than control. 

I’ve also swapped out long-term planning apps for Notion dashboards that track habits and feelings, not just finances or tasks. I’ve started thinking in seasons, not just deadlines.

I'm making space for joy now-so burnout doesn’t steal it later.

One of the simplest shifts I’ve made is planning joy into my week the same way I plan work. Walks with music, mid-morning coffees in the sun, evenings offline. Not as rewards, but as essentials. Because what’s the point of working toward “freedom” if I don’t taste any of it today?

Small things-like taking Fridays slower or learning to say no to overpacked weekends; help me protect my energy for the long haul.

Try the “Daily Joy Journal” technique from The Therapy Edit Podcast - quick prompts to help you check in emotionally without overthinking it.

I started investing in things I actually care about (and understand).

One of the more unexpected ways I’m investing in my future? Whisky casks. I came across the idea and loved the thought of putting money into something tangible, elegant, and quietly growing in the background while I live my life. It's not flashy. It's not urgent. But it's there, maturing slowly; just like I hope to.

It reminded me that investing doesn’t have to be overwhelming. It can be slow, steady, and even a little personal.

Good With Money – A site that simplifies ethical investing, with guides for beginners.

I’ve stopped chasing “productivity” and started designing my days.

I used to fill every pocket of time with something “useful”- another task ticked off, another goal in motion. But lately, I’ve been exploring what it feels like to enjoy my time without needing it to be productive.

That’s meant building more ease into my routines, allowing myself to do less, and choosing projects that light me up-even if they don’t come with immediate payoffs. I'm learning that a day well-lived can be an investment.

Mind UK has great content on energy mapping and realistic work-life rhythms if you struggle with burnout cycles.

I’m finally giving future-me a safety net (without the guilt).

I spent years feeling low-key guilty every time I put money away, as if saving meant I was expecting things to go wrong. But saving isn’t about fear anymore; it’s about care. It’s me saying, “I’ve got you,” to a version of myself who might need that support one day.

I’ve started with small things: an emergency fund that actually feels comforting, a “future fun” savings pot for big life dreams, and even a folder of important life documents I never used to keep track of.

I’m investing in my friendships the way I used to invest in work.

In my twenties, I said yes to everything career-related and put off everything else for “when things calm down.” But the more I’ve lived, the more I realise it’s the people who walk beside you that make the journey worthwhile.

Now, I plan time with friends like it matters; because it does. Whether it’s dinner at home, walking catch-ups, or little weekend trips, I’m choosing to show up. Those moments? They’re my emotional pension.

I’m being kinder to myself about progress.

Maybe the most radical way I’m investing in my future is learning to be gentler with myself. Less “Why am I not there yet?” and more “Look how far I’ve come.” I’m learning to measure progress in how I feel, not just in what I tick off.

It’s not always easy. But it’s grounding. And I figure if I keep showing up for myself in these small, caring ways, the future can take care of itself a little more easily.

What I’m Reminding Myself This Month

Living well now and preparing for later aren’t mutually exclusive. I don’t need to choose between feeling alive in the moment and being secure in the future. I can do both, slowly, kindly, and in a way that’s truly mine.

Some of it looks like whisky casks. Some of it looks like weekday walks. All of it, I hope, adds up to a life that’s both rich now and steady later.

And that, to me, is the real investment.