Money is worthless. Or rather, once the goalpost moves, it just adds a new layer of complexity to your existing problems.
When you’re broke and sad, money provides a hit of pure dopamine, like an intoxicating drug. Make a quick sum of cash in a short window and you’re ecstatic. But what happens when the drug stops working? Chasing that dragon usually leads to dark places. The absolute value of the money never changes, but you’ve moved up the food chain. When you’re carrying a heavy heart and a large bank account, cash loses the very thing that used to pique your dopamine receptors.
The word “a lot” is entirely relative. If you’ve never known anyone with $100,000 to throw around, you’ll relate to this writing the more your own account grows. But be grateful if a stray $1,000 still gets you going. Take advantage of that relative position, because if you stay on the path I’m on, that feeling will eventually cease.
The $100,000 Silence
For me, the shift started when I hit the $100,000 milestone a couple of years ago—and realized I had nobody to celebrate it with.
Now, thousands of dollars feel like just another Tuesday. An amount that used to take me weeks of hard labor to acquire happens in a single day, and I don’t feel a single twitch of excitement. The goalpost just moves. Maybe $20,000 in a day will do the trick?
The “Must Be Nice” Tax
Welcome to the new complexity. In our society, it’s a crime to talk about financial success; it’s immediately labeled as arrogance or flaunting. In social settings, it breeds envy. You enter a rabbit hole of paranoia: Is this person using me? Have I been used? You become fundamentally unrelatable to everyone you used to know. “Must be nice,” they say. And it is nice not having to worry about my next meal, but human psychology has a way of negating the pros.
When I try to tell people they can achieve the same thing, my belief is blamed on a lack of empathy—as if I didn’t start from ground zero just like them. It’s not all rainbows, though the food does taste better.
I used to say money would solve all my problems. Maybe when I have Elon Musk money they will? (There goes that goalpost moving again). The truth is, finances are just a small piece of a much bigger equation. Wealth enables gluttony, not just in yourself, but in the people around you. Like a dog that doesn’t know when its next meal is coming, people hoard. Sometimes I look at my actions and ask what the hell I’m doing. Sometimes I look at those around me and wonder if my success is doing them a disservice.
What the Market Takes Back
Maybe I should give it all away. Nah, I’m not at that point yet. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that old feeling back—the pure rush of making a couple hundred bucks in a few hours.
What money has actually provided me is security. It ensures a roof over my head and hot meals for the next few years. Many people go through life searching for this ever-escaping safety, and I’ve watched people I love suffer a psychological death chasing it. Without the right mindset, it’s just a hamster wheel.
So, what do we do with it when we finally get it? Study behavioral finance, I guess. That’s a topic for another day.
The Takeaway: Embrace exactly where you’re at. If you’re broke right now, realize that it’s a gift. Take advantage of the dopamine responses you still have. Go make a chunk of cash and actually feel the high of it. Bask in that cheap dopamine while it still works, and enjoy it with the people you love the most. At that stage, you can be absolutely certain they don’t love you for your wallet.
Life can be pretty paradoxical. You finally get the one thing you always wanted, only to realize something else was taken away—an unequal trade at the market. I guess we can’t have it all.