I don't know the difference between 'maturing' and 'changing'; it all depends on one's outlook. I do know, since I started thinking, dreaming, then planning, and then actually 'prepping', my approach and goals have changed significantly -- hopefully for the better. Two in particular stand out.
1. I can't -- and won't '' prep for everything. Until I was about 55, my plan was to be 'ready for everything', get firearms and sharp tools, buy a remote and inaccessible hideout, make sure the batteries for the Geiger counter were fresh, and on and on. When the Y2K fiasco (remember that?) came along, a group of friends and colleagues actually set up our own prep clearing house, primarily comprising engineers and medical people, with ideas toward designing survival items, health care, etc. But we never could decide how we were going to prep for all possible scenarios involved with Y2K; power outages (of course) disease, lack of food, insurrection, maybe even a nuclear exchange.
Finally, we sat down and did a 'business plan' (two of us were in an MBA program at the time), where we drew up a list of possible disaster scenarios, ranging from electricity out in a snowstorm or layoff from a job up to the Second Coming of Jesus. Then we applied a score for five parameters: * How likely will it happen in a month? * How likely will it happen in two years? *How serious will it be? * How long will it last? * What is the cost and time frame to ameliorate it? At that point it was pretty easy to quantify it, and we planned accordingly. The really low scores were things that could happen and likely would, but would be easy to plan for. Save three gallons of water per person, a coupla bags of charcoal for the dutch oven, and don't forget the can-opener, and you were set for the five days without electricity. Asteroid Strike: don't bother, spend your money on something better.
If we and/or our group can agree on at least trying this kind of prioritization, I think we'd be a lot better off, especially since most of us don't have enough money (or time) for both another thousand rounds of 5.56 and a small farm in southern Chile. Figuring out (and prioritizing) what concerns and goals my wife and I shared, we chose living near a small (pop 3000 town within a short drive of a big (pop 48,000) town in southern Idaho, and it seems to fit us fine.
You need a bigger survival group. It doesn't matter how many guns you have, you're going to need a place to get parts for your tractor, a medical clinic, preferably with a dentist and an optometrist, a school for your kids, someone to run the store, an administrator and managerial group to keep things running more or less smoothly, some people whose full-time job is to keep everyone safe (think cops), a large-animal vet, and folks who drop by with conversation and maybe some zucchini in the afternoon. That Swiss Family Robinson crap might've worked a couple hundred years ago, but we have wired ourselves to be a part of a larger infrastructure for our physical and emotional health. That's why I live within a short distance of a small town and after four months have already met (and visited with) six or seven families within a mile of me. I believe that people skills, including friendliness,willingness to help, willingness to ask for help, and the ability of working in a group -- whether to raise a barn or vote in a new school -- are at least as important as knowing how to field-strip your AR or set a trot line.