Another lie we believe.

Another lie we believe and tell ourselves is that we need to stay busy to be successful.

Now, before you start throwing all the facts of your life at me, hang on.

Whose idea was it that you NEED the money?!

I fully realize that there are those among us whose day-to-day reality consists of not knowing where their next meal will come from or whether their kids will have winter clothes this year. For them, working harder and earning more isn’t some inherited illusion about success. It’s a matter of survival. And I want to be clear: this post isn’t about questioning that reality. It’s about questioning the choices we make when survival is no longer what’s at stake.

No, I dedicate it to you, moms and dads of the upper-middle socioeconomic class who can afford a Netflix subscription and own a relatively recent version of the iPhone. Who worry about money when it comes to their next vacation, early retirement, or a sudden economic crisis. Who consider it “unfortunate” that they can’t travel the world due to limited finances or have to choose between upgrading their kitchen and sending their oldest to private school.

Don’t get me wrong. Those are real choices. But the story we tell ourselves that we don’t have enough money is simple bullshit.

And more accurately, it’s a belief that we have inherited from our parents, and they from theirs. Just like the belief that marriage means love and happiness (statistics on divorce and long-term misery in marriages suggest otherwise!), we’ve inherited the belief that more money means more success and is therefore necessary for happiness.

Research tells a more complicated story. While money certainly matters for meeting our basic needs and creating security, its relationship with happiness becomes less straightforward as income rises. Beyond a certain point, more money doesn’t necessarily translate into a more meaningful or satisfying life.

Think about it. You could be making $60K per year and be more satisfied with your life than someone making $350K! That seems unbelievable, and yet money alone is a remarkably poor guarantee of happiness. As Jim Carrey famously said, “I wish everyone could experience wealth and fame, so they’d learn it’s not the way.”

If more money meant more happiness and satisfaction, then addiction, depression, and suicide would be practically obsolete among the rich and famous. And yet, we see plenty of suffering there, too.

So what’s the deal?

Why is a young, 32-year-old man willing to drive himself into the grave building his business, at the expense of his marriage and mental health, when he recognizes that a smaller house and a smaller business would probably make him happier?

Why does a 45-year-old mother of two work full-time at the expense of being present for her teenagers, despite her financial advisor saying they could afford for her not to work for a few years and focus on the kids?

Why do I refuse to cut back on my budget despite being recently divorced, instead adding more and more clients to my workload? Fully knowing what I’ve just written above?!

Have we all gone mad?! Have I?!

But I know something else you might not (yet): as humans, we don’t do what’s rational. We don’t necessarily do what makes sense in any given moment.

We do what we know. What we’ve learned. What we learned keeps us safe.

And what kept us safe for generations was hard work.

America was built on hard work. It was built on buckling down and putting the financial success of your family above all else. We’re immigrants or children and grandchildren of immigrants. We have learned hard work from the milk of our mothers.

We are survivors. We never stop.

We are survivors of the Great Depression, World War II, the Cold War. The only reason you and I aren’t living below the poverty level is because our parents and grandparents didn’t let that happen. Or if they did, you sure as hell learned not to.

And here we are.

In 2026.

Walking around with deeply seated beliefs: “I have to work,” “There’s never enough,” and “Tomorrow isn’t promised.”

In the meantime, we secretly cherish little fantasies of selling our big homes and moving to farms, or selling our businesses and moving to low-key communities in Europe. We dream of vacations and getaways. We watch our kids grow up in front of us, but without us being fully present, and have a glass of wine somewhere between guilt and a pat on the back that surely our kids have it better than we did.

They do.

But they deserve better.

We deserve better.

How many dreams were buried in Silicon Valley? Not financial dreams, but soul dreams?

How many artists, writers, and horse whisperers sold their souls to the Golden Calf under the guise that they were doing what’s right? Being upstanding citizens? Making their parents and kids proud?

How many singers, dancers, and musicians? How many spiritual leaders? Philosophers? Caregivers?

How did we allow ourselves to be so fooled by something so obviously false, something Christ had warned us about, and something we know deep in our souls to be true?

How do we continue to make excuses, day in and day out, justifying our incessant obsession with more money by insisting that our kids need private schools or trips to Europe or new cars?

How did we become so blind and so ignorant?!

I know how.

I, too, am afraid.

I, too, am afraid to see the truth because of the changes I’d then have to make.

“I already barely have enough money. How will I be okay with working less?!”

“What will so-and-so think of me?!”

“But my kid NEEDS this and that!!”

Excuses and more excuses.

Fear covered up by good intentions.

You know what else was paved with good intentions? The road to hell.

Today, I almost didn’t write. I almost quit writing completely. Because I took on more clients to make up for the lost income after my divorce.

Makes sense, right? Good idea?

I sold my soul to the devil this week. Covered up my misguided choices with the mask of “good judgment” and being “responsible.”

I led myself astray. As I do, less so now, but still do. As we all do, being human and all.

We make mistakes. We miss the mark.

Today, I begin again.

Staying true to what matters.

My boys. Writing. Meditation. Loved ones.

No more “I don’t have time for that.”

I do.

I choose not to.

I choose to believe the false, old, outlived beliefs based on fears that were real for someone else. For my dad, my mom, my grandparents. Even for me when I was young.

But not today.

Not now.

Today, I renew.

Onwards, my dear humans! Good luck humaning around, and please don’t forget to stay true, brave, and in fellowship with one another!

With love,

Your Messy Magid