For a long time, I believed money would get me somewhere. Somewhere freer. Lighter. More fulfilled. A version of myself I hadn’t yet met.
I chased money with the quiet conviction (almost universal) that something was missing.
But one morning, while thinking about my life, my sons, and my work, I realized this: I already live much of what I thought money would bring me.
Money can buy freedom.
But I am free. Free to be the woman I want to be. Free to do work that feels aligned with who I am. I’m not confined to a role or trapped in a life that suffocates me.
Money can buy time.
Yet I have time (real, sacred time) to spend with my teenage sons. Time to be present, to be with them, not just around them. My husband reminded me recently that this, too, is a privilege.
Money can buy health.
I live in a country where I can access good food and proper healthcare. And I am healthy.
So why the constant pressure to earn more?
I don’t need money to be free.
I don’t need money to be present.
I don’t need money to feel alive.
But yes, I still need money.
To support my daily needs. To travel. To invest in myself, in my family, in the projects I’m building. To give. To create. To build a life with more spaciousness and ease.
Not from a place of lack. Not from fear. But from the desire to sustain and expand what already feels meaningful.
This is not a race anymore. It’s not a chase. It’s a grounded desire for stability, for anchoring, for flow.
And maybe the real work is to remember this: I’m not starting from empty. I’m starting from full — from a life already rich in love, time, freedom, and health. Full of meaning.
What if the work isn’t to earn more, but to remember that we already have so much — and to build from that fullness?