There’s a moment, right before I close my laptop for the night, when everything feels… heavy.
Not just the emails I didn’t respond to or the tasks I’ve left hanging—no, it’s deeper than that.
It’s the weight of every decision I’ve made that led me here.
The detours.
The pivots.
The ‘let me try this since that’s where the money is’ phases.
Tech is booming? Let’s try tech.
Brand strategy is the hot cake? Let’s try that too.
Everyone’s talking about AI, coding, and crypto? Maybe that’s the future.
Maybe I should learn data analytics. Or maybe I should just sleep.
Because, truthfully? I’m tired.
Tired of chasing every new industry trend.
Tired of measuring my life in job titles and LinkedIn updates.
Tired of stretching myself thin just to prove—what exactly? That I’m adaptable? That I’m a hustler? That I know how to make “strategic career moves”?
(soft sigh)
Sometimes, I just want to be.
To wake up, read a book, laugh with good friends.
To not open PowerPoint. To not deal with Excel.
To not feel like my worth is tied to how much I earn or how many projects I’ve ticked off my list.
But then, there’s the fear.
The fear of stopping.
Of stepping away from the race and watching others run past.
The fear that if I don’t keep up—if I don’t find a way to make “a whole lot of money” while doing what I actually enjoy—
I’ll be left behind.
Or worse… I’ll be broke.
And let’s be honest, I am not a rich kid.
I wasn’t born into a trust fund.
There’s no “fallback” plan with my name on it.
So I dig.
And dig.
And dig.
Looking for gold. Looking for meaning.
Looking for a career that doesn’t make me feel like I’m suffocating.
Looking for a life where I’m not just working to make money,
but where money works for me.
But until I find it,
until I strike gold,
I guess I’ll keep digging.