Money is Freedom … Mostly
From McDonald's cashier to engineering consultant to traveling volunteer — a personal reckoning with what money actually buys, and why freedom might be the only currency that matters.
Essays that challenge assumptions, interrogate patterns, and make a case for living more deliberately.
Money is power. When I was younger and didn't have any, it was all that I desired. I knew that it would allow me to do things in life that I hadn't been able to do previously, things as simple as going out for a movie date with my girlfriend. However, as time passed, the level of financial burden it took to engage not only in small trivial pursuits, like going to the movies, but also the more expensive necessities of life, like purchasing a vehicle, became more apparent.
At first, this was simple to grasp. Dates costed money, that I didn't have, so I became a cashier at my local McDonalds, and started making enough money to pay for movie tickets and popcorn. However, it didn't take long for things to get complicated. The following year the college application process had started, and when I saw the price tag of admission I almost fainted. My mom was a mother of four, with limited financial support from her various baby daddies, so I knew I wasn't going to be able to rely on her for help with my college tuition.
Luckily, I had an amazing teacher in high school, Mrs. Wolford, who taught a whole class centered around college readiness. In this class, we were given time to apply for scholarships and grant opportunities. I'm certain that if I hadn't enrolled in that class, I would never have made it into college. When you don't have a lot of money of your own, relying on the charity of others is power in its right. Being able to swallow your pride, and accept the handout, is hard for some, because a part of them feels like they didn't earn it, but I didn't care. I would have done anything to graduate college and improve my financial situation both for me and my siblings, so I swallowed my ego and happily accepted the help.
After graduation, I accepted an engineering position and slowly improved my financial situation. I paid off my unsubsidized loan and then focused on saving as much money as I could. It took me a year or so after graduation to finally get my own apartment, but once I did, my life continued to improve. My income was covering rent, car payment, insurance, food, gym membership, and so on. I no longer relied on someone financially, and the freedom that provided was intoxicating.
But, like all things it waned, and I found myself adjusted to my new standard of living and wanting more. Life was good in Baltimore, but it wasn't great. One afternoon, I had been walking home from the gym and saw yellow caution tape strung across the street — someone had been shot and murdered. This was when I knew that I no longer wanted to live in Baltimore.
During one of my reflective nights, I booked an AirBnB in Denver for two months in the summer of 2022. A month of breakfast burritos, nights of house music, and abundant nature trails through epic mountain-filled landscapes had sealed the deal for me. I applied for an apartment in the Lower Highlands (LoHi), and once accepted, I had sealed my fate.
The start of my journey in a new city was anything but seamless. I had no certainty of employment. Over that period, I accrued over $4,000 in credit card debt. At the time it was not the smartest decision, but most decisions aren't. We make them from feelings and figure out the financials later.
Over the course of my life, I've landed at four key freedoms that have guided how I structure my life and how I make decisions about the future:
It's only now that I find myself traveling through Central America, taking a break from the corporate lifestyle, that I find all these freedoms flipped. Currently I'm volunteering roughly 18 hours a week at a hostel. It's been nice not waking up to the ping of a Teams message. I feel at ease. Yet I know it's short lived.
Money is important but more so due to the freedom that it provides. It does you no good if you feel trapped and miserable.
I know at some point when I'm done volunteering, I'll want a stable income. There's nothing wrong with liking simple pleasures. Life is hard — we all should be allowed small pleasures. Massages. Fancy coffee. Moleskin Journals. We all have our thing, and money is what allows us to have it.
So, let's cheer on money, and the freedom it provides. If you have extra, be charitable and give it to someone else. You have no idea what type of freedom you could be providing that person. What may seem small to you, may be what alleviates someone else's stress for the day. Don't forget that.
The popular saying goes, "The grass isn't always greener on the other side." Yet, this statement implies that there are indeed times when it is. So why are we then told to err on the side of caution, if there is potential of improved life outcomes from our instinct to run away?
Given I'm an engineer by trade, I won't be able to adequately address all these questions, but I can enlighten you with my own thoughts on the situation, based on my personal revelation I had while reading the popular novel, The Alchemist.
Santiago, the main character, is fixated on the idea of finding a treasure and breaking free from the identity of shepherd boy that was bestowed upon him. He sells his entire herd and uses the money to travel from his remote town in Andalusia Spain to the nearest town in Africa. Upon entering his first port town, he gets swindled and loses all the money he had amassed for his journey. He eventually does continue, runs into many hurdles, and finally lands on what can only be described as a mystical experience — where he is told the treasure he was seeking was only a stone's throw away from where he had grown up the entire time.
If the treasure were near his home all along, how can any sensible argument be made for leaving? From a purely logical perspective, leaving his hometown resulted in him wasting a considerable part of the year searching for this treasure, just to have to turn all the way back close to where he started.
Ever since I was a teenager, there was one place I always wanted to visit — Italy. My family is from the Appalachian Mountains, but a few generations prior had boarded boats from Napoli and made their way to America. It was only roughly two years ago that I finally attained my passport, and once secured, I made it my central mission to make it to Italy before my 26th birthday.
In simplest terms, I was running from the feeling of rejection. I had made the decision to move from my home state a year and a half prior, and I still hadn't made myself a single reliable friend in my new city. I also had just finished a 30-day challenge of posting to YouTube, with each video getting less than 10 likes. I was failing in friendship, and entrepreneurship. My relationship was also on the brink of collapse, and I just needed to distance myself.
I had a lovely time checking out all the cultural sites and popular restaurants, but I look back at the not so lovely times and find these to contain the most useful life lessons. Every time I wanted to say something nice about someone's outfit, or the food they had prepared, it felt like my brain cells were doing gymnastics. The language barrier, and lack of social contact with others, really cornered me into a bout of isolation.
During these ruminations I reflected on how I had approached my life and understood how my reliance on my partner's friend group for companionship had ultimately caught up to me. I never tried to make my own friends. This was a sad realization, but a much needed one.
Discontent is a normal feeling that isn't location dependent. Discontent arises from our perception of where we live and how we act. It arises when we expect better of ourselves yet continually fall short.
A 50-room mansion is the pinnacle of success on the exterior, but the 47 vacant rooms within its interior exude despair and failure.
Understanding what you personally need to shift your perspective is paramount, and I think that's why I relate to Santiago so much. I understand his approach. Regret and despair eat at him. Keeping him from the present. It's only until he commits to selling his sheep and seeking the treasure that his mental affliction starts to alleviate.
So, in Schrödinger-style, I'll end with this: We will never truly know if the grass is greener, unless we inspect it for ourselves.