By 
Self-help has always had a really awkward relationship with money.
You see, the basis for a lot of this stuff is in eastern philosophies, which focus on prioritizing discovering who you really are, pursuing what you really want, and reaching a place of spiritual bliss instead of worrying about people liking you, or having an ass-warmer in your kid’s carseat because “the Fergusons have one!” It’s driven largely by the “Find yourself, follow your bliss, fuck external desires” stuff.
This is problematic for people trying to sell it because while people who enjoy self-help often see themselves as enlightened, and seeking out deeper pleasures in life, what they often really want is a chef’s kitchen in which to microwave their Lean Cuisines, and a 24 karat toilet in which to drop their turds. Many of us like to think we’re above the materialistic desires and horseshit that pollute our every day lives, and many of us aren’t.
So the result is that a lot of self-help twists and turns itself until it can effectively pander to both the enlightened, self-fulfilled superhero we like to think we are, and the superficial garbage heap of humanity that we actually are. It uses these largely eastern philosophies while cramming in some pandering to shitty western white people.
So if you look at the subtext, a lot of modern self-help can largely be summarized with the following: “Find your true bliss. Feel the satisfaction you’ve always desired. Create love, and everlasting joy, and get in touch with your infinite spirit and also make a shit ton of cash. Namaste.”
It’s about as natural and subtle as a bat to the head.
So why does this awkward discord exist? Because there is a big, real stigma around wanting money–particularly in younger people. The feeling is that wanting money makes you superficial, shallow, and sometimes evil, and not all like your cool, enlightened, smarmy asshole self.
Many see it this way, because, especially in America, a lot of people do want money for stupid reasons. People day dream about having a mansion, four Bentley’s, and to have caviar helicoptered to their home straight from the ocean every morning, and served to them by a dwarf on bended knee. They tell themselves that traveling to the Bahamas eight times a year will make them happy. They think about having a house that’s so big, it has a room just for their purses, and they think, “Okay, if I have that, then I’ll be okay,” (hint: If you think like this, you totally won’t be okay because you’re a nightmare of a human being.).
Many from our generation have stopped prioritizing money, because we’ve seen not only the horrible side effects of blind financial ambition in older generations, but also because we’ve seen how it has left many older people feeling hollow and miserable after a lifetime of hard work at a job they barely tolerated.
And let’s be clear. Materialism, elitism, and buying something fancy in an attempt to justify working a job you hate–that is all bullshit. That all is in fact superficial, stupid, and doesn’t make you happier for more than like eight minutes. It is worth slapping a stigma onto that, and if that is why you want money, your values suck and you should probably stop like, everything about yourself.
But there’s the thing: That’s not what wanting money is usually about, and that’s where a bunch of young idiots (young me included) go wrong. Some of us have leapt too far to the other side of the spectrum where we act like money is completely irrelevant, and we don’t come to this conclusion until we’re 33 and we realize, “Shit, am I going to end up being one of those assholes with a tiny house?”
Here’s how I, and I think others make this mistake: I grew up in a life of such privilege that I thought that in my twenties, I would trip and fall into enough money to easily afford a house, a family, and an easy retirement. I would work hard, sure, but as long as I did that, everything else would fall into place, right? Given hard work, enough money for those basics is a given.
So the idea of “wanting money” was simply about wanting leather furniture, and Acuras, and imported cigars, and who gives a shit about all of that?
Then I grew up with a screenwriting degree, saw the kind of money that made me, looked at the cost of owning a home in Los Angeles, and the cost of having kids, and the evaporating middle class, and contemplated drinking bleach.
You may think that would make me a total idiot but…okay yes, you’re right. I was/am. But I am not alone in this delusion. Plenty of you out there now are likely the same way. Plenty of people think of money as an afterthought while also wanting a house, and a family, and to never be buried by medical bills, which indeed makes us complete fucking imbeciles.
So it’s worth remembering that money is almost never about opulence and status. Money is–for just about everyone–what allows you to feed your kids and send them to college. It gets you a place where you can live somewhat comfortably, and gives you the chance to give to causes you care about. It buys experiences, security, and the ability to not have to work. It allows you to exist in the world. And this money doesn’t just appear because you imagined it would when you were a dipshit 17-year-old.
If you really don’t care about ever starting a family, or owning anything, or not being stressed about getting by, or plunging into medical debt if you have to get a toenail looked at, or eating out, or having a working AC, or having a contingency plan if one of your dollar store rubbers breaks, or leaving the house at all ever, then sure. By all means, let go of the need for money.
Otherwise, stop being a dumbass. The middle class is basically gone. If you want a family and to not have saltines for dinner, you’re right to give a shit about this.
And yes, sometimes, given certain circumstances, fuck your bliss, you yuppie douchebag. Your kid needs to eat.
If you’re stressed over scraping by every month, if you’re wishing you could go on a trip but can’t afford to, or if the mole on your neck is growing and you’re too afraid of the cost of going to the doctor, then it doesn’t matter how in touch with “purpose” you are. You’re going to be thinking, “Man, I’m not feeling very fucking blissful right now.”
So shit. Is there something we can do about this? Is there some way we can pursue what will bring us inner bliss, fulfill us people, and bring us all the money we need? Will following my bliss work?
Well, for some of us, yes. For others, HAHAHAHA FUCK NO.
Here’s your ideal scenario where those things go hand in hand and everything works out:
Finding bliss and fulfillment with your work tends to often come down to two questions:
1) What am I good at?
2) How can I help?
You see we tend to enjoy doing things that we’re really, really good at, and regardless of what that ambition is, chasing it improves who you are. The more you chase what you’re really good at, the more you improve your self-discipline, time management, and work ethic, the more you follow well-defined goals, generally the better off you’ll be financially in the long run. This form of honing in on your inner bliss makes you more of a unique snowflake superstar that can do something others can’t, and people tend to pay more for that.
But of course, none of that is very useful if the thing you’re good at and you love is stupid–which is very often the case. If your inner bliss is in playing basketball with your broke ass jumper, playing Tetris, or watching House Hunters, then following your bliss doesn’t necessarily make you better or more marketable. Nobody cares. Find some other bliss.
The second way to find bliss with your work is by asking yourself: How can I help?
One of the ironic twists towards making money is it can at times start with being unselfish.
It begins when you look around at this garbage dump of a planet and ask yourself, “Okay what can I do?” Figure out how you can help people the best way you can, and get fucking good at it. If you find a way you can really add value to the world, then the world will return that value back to you with some fat cash…
…sometimes. Often times, that’s not really the case. Often, the answer to “How can I help the most?” may be in bringing medicine to AIDS orphans in Africa, and those kids pay like shit. They totally stiff you.
So then the question remains: what do you do if your greatest passion, or if your most effective form of helping isn’t particularly rewarding with some fat cash?
Well then, you decide where the balance is, and that’s totally for you to figure out. Maybe it’ll all work out, and your bliss will make you rich. Maybe you’ll decide work won’t be blissful, but it will bring you what you actually want. Maybe you’ll decide be to help as much as you can, and take on the burden of crippling debt and Hamburger Helper.
It’s up to you. I’m just saying, don’t be a dumbass. Don’t get stuck into the mindset of, “Money doesn’t matter” when you forget all that money does for you. Money does matter. It just may also be something you deem worthy of sacrifice. If you’re going to decide to be poor, do so fully knowing and understanding all of the stress that entails and all of the things you can no longer do because of it. Fully accept that you’re never going to Bali unless there’s a Measles outbreak there. Don’t give into the narrative just because it makes you feel cooler or wiser.
But before you resign yourself to having to make that decision and strike that balance, double-check to make sure that you can’t help the world and do what you love in some way that gives you all that you actually want in life. Search all avenues to figure that out. Because if you can find that, and pursue it, and kick it’s ass, that’s a pretty awesome life.
You might get lucky and get a chance to have it all, and if you can, that is how you find your inner bliss, and connect with your true purpose…while also being able to make it rain on a ho.
