When money isn’t just money

When I was setting up my home after my separation, I bought things without looking at the price.

A particular sofa I had wanted for years. Things for the kitchen. Cushions. Plants. Little things that made the house look the way I wanted it to.

I would see something and think, I want this. And buy it.

There was so much joy in that.

A very real kind of joy.

Because I remember a time when I couldn’t buy anything I wished for.

I knew what it was like to look at something I loved and calculate first.

Can I afford this?

Is it necessary?

Maybe later.

Maybe I don’t really need it.

So there was something deeply freeing about being able to choose simply because I wanted something.

Not because anyone would notice.

Just because I liked it.

And I think this is one of the most beautiful things money can give us.

Choice.

The freedom to say yes.

To travel somewhere we have always wanted to go.

To eat somewhere beautiful.

To create a home that makes us happy.

To buy the thing we have wanted for years.

To give our children something we couldn’t have.

To make life a little softer.

Money can genuinely make us feel more alive.

And there is nothing wrong with wanting that.

Nothing wrong with wanting wealth.

But sometimes, after the joy settles in, something else quietly enters.

You buy the watch. And wonder who will notice.

You take the holiday. And check who saw the photograph.

Someone notices the brand and there is that tiny little lift inside.

You mention the price even though nobody asked.

The car isn’t only a car anymore.

The restaurant isn’t only a restaurant.

The house isn’t only a house.

They start saying something.

I belong here.

I can afford this.

I am doing well.

And once belonging enters, comparison is not very far behind.

Someone has a bigger house.

Someone is earning more.

Someone is travelling more.

Someone your age seems to be so much further ahead.

And you can be genuinely happy for them and still feel that small, ugly little pinch inside.

Why them?

Why not me?

What am I doing wrong?

Sometimes it isn’t even that you want what they have.

You just don’t want to be the one who has less.

Because there is a particular feeling that comes with being the one who has less.

You know it.

The way you suddenly become quieter.

The way you start comparing.

The way you notice what everyone else is wearing.

The way you calculate your own life against theirs.

The way someone else’s success can make you question your own.

And maybe this is where money gets complicated.

Because the same money that once gave you freedom can slowly become tied to your place in the world.

How you are seen.

Who you belong with.

Whether you feel important.

Whether you feel enough.

And sometimes there is a person from the past somewhere inside all of this.

Someone who had more.

Someone who made you feel small.

Someone whose approval you wanted.

Someone who didn’t choose you.

Someone who made you feel like you weren’t quite enough.

And without even realising it, some part of your success starts talking to them.

See?

Look at me now.

I can afford this.

I belong here.

You cannot look down on me anymore.

I am not that person anymore.

And this is where I have to stop and ask myself some uncomfortable questions.

Because I genuinely love beautiful things.

I genuinely want a beautiful home.

I genuinely want to earn more.

I genuinely want the freedom money can give me.

So when does wanting more change?

When does “I want this because it makes my life richer”

quietly become “I need this because of how it makes me feel about myself”?

If nobody knew what my watch cost, would I still want it?

If I couldn’t post the holiday, would I still take the trip?

If nobody from my past ever knew what I became, would I still want to become this successful?

And perhaps the hardest one...

If someone else’s money makes me feel small, what is their money touching inside me?

Because money can carry so much.

Joy. Freedom. Pleasure. Choice. Security. Belonging. Envy. Jealousy. Smallness. Pride. Proof.

Sometimes all of it. At the same time.

And maybe that is why our relationship with money is rarely just about money.

Maybe the question isn’t only, “How much do I want?”

Maybe it is, “What am I hoping this money will allow me to experience?”

And, much more quietly, “What am I hoping it will finally make me feel?”