I’m having serious second thoughts about writing another net-worth update—or even continuing to blog. To be completely honest, my interest evaporated the moment AI started stealing website hits like actor-turned-politicians in the Philippines loot public funds.

And if you’ve been following along, you’ve probably noticed I haven’t written a single non‑recycled update in one year. Not because life got boring—retirement is anything but—but because the motivation just wasn’t there. It’s hard to get excited about hitting ‘Publish’ when the spark that kept this blog going for a decade suddenly flickers.

Over the years, I’ve written more than 155 posts — some funny, some painfully honest, all chronicling the messy, rewarding journey toward financial independence. That’s a lot of words, spreadsheets, and screenshots documenting one man’s slow march toward freedom.

Yet here we are again. Another Labor Day weekend rolls around, and with it, my stubborn annual tradition of oversharing my financial life on the internet. Except this isn’t just another routine ledger check—it’s the 10-year milestone. A full decade of obsessive spreadsheets, balance sheet screenshots, and boldly pretending I don’t hit ‘refresh’ on my brokerage account every fifteen minutes.

And speaking of milestones…

My wife and I officially retired last April — no more commutes, no more meetings, and absolutely no more pretending to look busy on Teams. And for her, no more twelve‑hour shifts, no more charting after a long day, and no more doing the kind of “gross” work nurses quietly handle every day, including wiping someone else’s butt when nobody else will. I’m incredibly proud she finally gets to rest. After everything she’s done for patients over the years, she deserves every slow morning and every peaceful afternoon. Now we’re just two retirees trying to figure out how we ever had time to work in the first place.

So even though blogging doesn’t excite me the way it used to, this update still matters. It’s a decade of discipline, growth, and questionable financial decisions that somehow worked out. And honestly? It wouldn’t feel right to skip the anniversary.

The 10-Year Scorecard: From Grinding to Financial Independence

Back in September 2016, when I first started tracking this publicly, our net worth sat at $969,665. We were hovering just below the two-comma threshold, carrying a six-figure mortgage, and grinding away at our day jobs wondering when—or if—we’d ever feel ready to pull the retirement trigger.

Longtime readers might remember that back in November 2016, we crossed the $1M mark right after Trump won—and trust me, you won’t ever catch me in a red cap. The post-election market didn’t care about my political panic, staging a rally that dragged my screaming portfolio straight into the two-comma club anyway.

Fast forward a decade, through bull markets, bear pullbacks, pandemic insanity, and relentless automated index fund contributions, and here is where we landed for our official retirement update:

• September 2016 Net Worth: $969,665
• September 2026 Net Worth: $4,733,595
  
• 10-Year Total Growth:+$3,763,930 (+388%)

Hitting $4.73 million feels completely surreal. It’s easy to look at a neat 10-year timeline and assume it was all calculated brilliance, but reality was much more boring: spending less than we earned, maxing out tax-advantaged accounts year after year, and largely staying out of our own way.

Where the Money Lives (September 2026 Breakdown)

Here is the unvarnished look at the balance sheet as we step into our first year of full retirement:

1. Cash & Banking: $11,002

• Checking & Savings: $11,002
• The story: We keep one or two months’ worth of expenses ready to pay the bills.

2. Investments & Retirement Accounts: $3,905,486

This is the engine powering our retirement freedom. In 2016, our portfolio was around $744K; today, it’s knocking on the door of $4M:

• 401(k) Accounts: $2,390,102 (Account 1: $1,224,850 | Account 2: $1,165,252)
• Roth IRAs: $635,017 (Roth 1: $484,161 | Roth 2: $150,856)
• Traditional IRAs: $258,610 (IRA 1: $92,963 | IRA 2: $165,647)
• Taxable Brokerage: $291,887
• 529 College Savings: $258,985
• HSA: $70,885

3. Real Estate: $825,300

• Primary Residence (Zestimate): $575,300
• Manila Property: $250,000

4. Liabilities: $8,193

• Mortgage:$0
• Credit Cards: $8,193 (paid off in full monthly)
• The story: Paying off the primary mortgage back in 2020 remains the best psychological decision we ever made. Entering retirement without a mortgage payment gave us the peace of mind to pull the rip cord with zero hesitation.

The 10-Year Milestones That Actually Moved the Needle

Looking back over the full archive of spreadsheets, our growth wasn’t linear:

Switching from Accumulation to Decumulation

For 22 years, our entire financial psychology was wired to save, hoard, and invest. Every bonus, every tax refund, and every spare dollar went straight into the index fund machine.

Now, the mental switch flips: we have to learn how to spend.

It’s surprisingly uncomfortable. When you retire, there’s no Friday direct deposit coming to replenish your checking account. Every cup of coffee, every grocery run, and every plane ticket now comes directly out of the nest egg you spent decades protecting.

On paper, the math is bulletproof. With roughly $3.9 million in investable assets and zero debt, a conservative 3.5% withdrawal rate gives us a safe ceiling of around $136,000 a year without touching principal—far more than we need for slow mornings, visiting family, and traveling while our health is good. But the gut doesn’t read spreadsheets. Watching your portfolio balance dip to pay routine bills triggers an instinctual panic: Are we breaking the machine?

To take the emotional friction out of decumulation, we stopped treating spending as an ad-hoc harvest and engineered a blended, automated cash flow pipeline.

Our primary engine is a steady $6,100 monthly distribution from our 401(k)s, unlocked completely penalty‑free under the IRS Rule of 55. This deliberate drawdown chips away at our pre‑tax balance year by year, defusing the future tax bomb of oversized Required Minimum Distributions. The rest of our $8,000 monthly living baseline is covered by harvesting capital gains from our brokerage reserves while staying within the 0% long‑term capital gains rate. I know, I know — we’re underspending. But we fully intend to loosen the purse strings as retirement life continues to unfold.

The real beauty of this setup is that it threads the needle for ACA health insurance subsidies. By capping our taxable retirement distributions and pulling the remainder from capital and foreign rental income, we keep our Modified Adjusted Gross Income low enough to secure significant premium tax credits for our family plan. It manufactures a dependable monthly paycheck that covers daily life and protects our healthcare today, all while leaving our Roth IRAs and long-term equities completely undisturbed to compound for the future.

Final Thoughts: Signing Off the 10-Year Experiment

Before I wrap this up, I want to say thank you — sincerely — to everyone who has ever stopped by this little corner of the internet. Whether you read one post, all of them, or just accidentally clicked a link while googling something completely unrelated, I appreciate you.

This blog has been part of my life for more than a decade. It saw the ups, the downs, the “why is the market doing that?” moments, and the slow, steady climb toward retirement. Writing here kept me accountable, curious, and occasionally entertained by my own financial misadventures.

Now that we’re officially retired, life feels different — in a good way. And while I’m having second thoughts about writing another net‑worth update (let alone another full blog post), I didn’t want to disappear without saying thanks. You made this journey more meaningful than a spreadsheet ever could.

I may not be posting much anymore, but I’m keeping this website up — probably forever. It’s part of my story now, and I like the idea of it quietly living on even if I’m not updating it every year.

This is probably my last post… unless something interesting happens. And let’s be honest — something always does.

Here’s to whatever comes next.