I left school when I was sixteen and I’ve worked ever since, and continue to do so, albeit becoming semi-retired at the age of sixty.
For many years I’ve adhered to the view that not one person on their deathbed will ever wish that they’d worked more hours, accumulated more money in the bank or owned bigger and better possessions.
You can never underestimate the value of quality of life.
Yes, you do need money to survive because there are bills to pay, you have to eat and so on and so forth.
For me though, it’s always been work to live rather than the other way round.