If money isn’t working for you, you’re fucked. Last year my cousin’s sister-in-law Ruth
strangled her kid and then tried (unsuccessfully) to kill herself because she
was stressed about the family’s finances and didn’t want her son to have to
grow up with money hardships. The family
had just sold their second house, so they weren’t going to be feeling much
hardship at all for quite a while, but that was her head space that fateful
night. I just got off the phone with a
rep from my managed Fidelity account and he couldn’t stress enough how quickly
I’m headed for ruin if I keep transferring money out of the account. And the first feeling after I hung up the phone
was something shockingly empathetic to Ruth’s notion. Super fucked up. I don’t mean strangling kids, but how the
feeling of life’s worth and the value of our purpose is tied up in the money
you’re currently burning to stay warm at night.
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