In a world where we stress so much about money, have you ever stopped to consider the price we pay for simply existing instead of pursuing the lives we truly desire?
Everything costs more than it did years ago…
- Bills are more (don’t even get me started on homeowners, earthquake, and car insurance).
- Groceries are outrageous.
- David and I can’t seem to eat out for less than $100 for the two of us (and that’s a pretty modest meal in LA these days…)
- Traveling (OMG, when did hotels start costing $500/night, and has anyone else noticed the diminished airplane experience?)
- My gym membership goes up by $15 a year, and I don’t even remember how much it costs, but it’s more than my car payment in my 20s.
The only thing that’s not climbing these days is our paychecks, and Forbes says that in 2023, 78% of Americans lived paycheck to paycheck, a 6% increase from the previous year.
About ten years ago, I remember watching the news, and a segment played about remote work and how it was drastically going to affect the cost of housing. High-paying tech jobs were starting to allow employees to take their $200k+ salaries and move to inexpensive but beautiful cities with homes that cost only $200k, and I thought, uh oh—this is going to be a problem.
Back then, homes were available for as low as $100k—maybe not in the most desirable city, but still, for $100k, someone could lock in a mortgage payment, put their hard-earned money towards their home’s equity, and have a place to live in retirement. Now, those same homes are $300k or more, and so many people simply cannot buy a home of their own.
In Los Angeles (where I live), the cost of living is astronomical—homes that were $1M five years ago are now nearly $2M, public schools are rarely desirable, and a takeout sandwich will run you $20. I hate how expensive everything’s become, but at the same time, no amount of complaining is going to change it, and I need to control what I can.
Right now, my top priority is not to let the weight of life get me down. While I strategize and work towards my goals, I’m accepting reality and living without things I don’t need, and the more I roll with it, the more peaceful I feel.
Have you thought about your goals? See where to focus with this free quiz.
After the pandemic, David and I traveled to New York a couple of times, where we rented fancy apartments, ate at Per Se, and took black SUVs around town. We went to Hawaii twice and rented a home on the beach and a private sailboat. The other day, I realized we haven’t even been on a big international trip since Greece in 2019 and was thinking what boring homebodies we’ve become now, vacationing in Idyllwild (a tiny mountain two hours east). And then it dawned on me that subconsciously, we’ve been choosing to live within our means.
We also hardly ever eat out anymore. I love cooking, and David loves baking, and we’re both really good at it. When we dine with friends, we often host at our house, and not only is the food better and healthier, it’s also much cheaper.
Lately, I’ve been surprised by how much joy I find in the small, mundane, and inexpensive activities around the house. In this stage of life, reading, gardening, taking a bath, playing Scrabble, and going for walks all bring me so much happiness. And at the same time, I hate worrying about money.
Things here aren’t actually that tight, but we have surrogacy on the horizon. We’re both starting businesses and hope to squeeze a wedding in, too. We’ve saved very well, and I’m learning to accept that with finances, it’s inevitable that with the good times come some bad, and resisting that fact just causes suffering.
In my whole life, I haven’t known anyone who worries about money more than I have, and one of my biggest accomplishments is learning to trust that it will all work out in the end.
Still, I aim to attain complete financial freedom soon. I don’t desire to be wildly rich or have a boat (though I’d not turn one down), but I want to earn enough money and invest it wisely so we can live off its return and never have to worry about money again.
I think most of us are afraid to admit what we want. We’re taught that to desire is to be selfish, that the world is scarce, and that life is a zero-sum game. We’re told to be grateful for our blessings, which stifles us from pursuing our dreams, becoming who we want to be, and living the lives we desire to live.
Last week, a friend said to me, “Gratitude and desire aren’t mutually exclusive.”
Up until two years ago, I was afraid to let myself desire, which is why I couldn’t admit I wanted to be a father until I was almost 40 and why my career hasn’t provided much fulfillment until now.
We dwell on the cost of living, but there’s a much higher cost in waiting.
