It's one of the most taboo subjects on the planet, and yet we spend our lives obsessing over it. Dreaming of it, chasing it–wishing we had more of it. But once we do have more of it, we raise the bar. It never seems to be enough. And what is enough anyway?
So the quest begins. We work our asses off. Because that's what we're supposed to do, right? Graduate. Get a good job. Make money. Hopefully, a lot of it. Everything works out. But does it? We then define ourselves by how much we have, and often judge others based on how much they don't have. After our basic needs are met–food, clothes, housing–we rationalize spending the rest on what means the most to us (or so we think)–vacations, more clothes, eating out, and stuff. And more stuff. But none of these things ever seem to do their job of making us happy.
I remember always having my eye on something I wanted to buy. Without fail, there would be that new shiny object that I thought would do the trick. But then like clockwork, I would feel that perpetual sadness once the allure of the object wore off. Ironically, it was the same feeling that often seeped in while flying home from vacation. The high would vanish. So logically, I got back on the make/spend treadmill–only to slip back into a consumption coma all over again.
Finally, I grew tired of having the "once I get more money, I will (fill in the blank)" conversation with myself. I wondered when exactly the chase would end. More importantly, why do we constantly want more of what we don't need? Intent on getting answers–I ventured down the research rabbit hole of financial pioneers and even the Dalli Llama for insight and clarity.
Once I started evaluating my spending habits, I realized I was completely disconnected from my relationship with money. That much of my beliefs about it were rooted in childhood, media, and cultural ideas I had developed along the way. Even more daunting, how I was letting it slip away due to boredom, convenience, and keeping up with society's idea of what I needed to be happy.
I came to the sobering realization that how we spend our money tells a lot about who we are and how we see the world. But if we uncover our disillusions of what it means to us, we can actually break the cycle. That regardless of what everyone else is doing, what really matters is how these objects and experiences make us feel. And perhaps the most valuable discovery–if we truly understand how much we need, we can then reevaluate what we're willing to do to get it.