And why I stopped feeling ashamed for wanting it
For a long time, I felt uncomfortable talking about money.
Not because I didn’t want it. But because of what wanting it seemed to say about me.
Too materialistic. Too focused. “Crazy about money” — words I heard from people I loved.
And somewhere along the way, I internalized that. So, I went quiet. I avoided the conversation. I disconnected from something that, whether we admit it or not, shapes the quality of our lives every single day.
Then I read The Millionaire Fastlane by MJ DeMarco — and something in me shifted.
Not the chapter about business models or wealth formulas. A single passage about what money actually is.
It didn’t just change how I think about money. It changed how I feel about it.
The Lie We Were Handed
Here’s the contradiction so many of us live in:
We chase money. We need money. And at the same time, we judge the desire for it — in ourselves and in others.
Society teaches us that wealth equals stuff. The car. The bag. The house. And when we chase those symbols without ever feeling truly wealthy, the gap between expectation and reality breeds shame, comparison, and quiet desperation.
“Money doesn’t buy happiness when it’s misused. But used properly, money buys freedom — and freedom is one parcel in the wealth trinity.”
— The Millionaire Fastlane
That one idea cracked something open for me.
Because if money, used properly, buys freedom — then wanting money isn’t shallow. It’s one of the most grounded, deeply human desires there is.
The Story That Made It Real
I want to tell you about two women.
Both were from my home country. Both were mothers. Both loved their children with everything they had.
Both had children with severe mental and physical disabilities.
But their lives looked completely different.
One of them — a relative of mine — spent over twenty years as the sole caregiver for her child. No breaks, no backup, no relief. When she came to family gatherings, she was never fully present. You could feel her watching the clock, calculating how long before she had to rush back. Her life was devotion — but it was also quiet, unrelenting exhaustion.
The other woman was named Oumou. She had financial means. She was able to hire round-the-clock care for her son. She travelled. She left the country for months at a time. She had space to breathe, to rest, to be a person beyond her role as a caregiver.
Not because she loved less. But because she had options.
I’ve carried that contrast with me ever since.
Because what separated those two women wasn’t love. It wasn’t character. It wasn’t even how hard they worked.
It was access. Options. The freedom that money creates.
Money Didn’t Change Their Love — It Changed Their Capacity
I want to say this clearly because I know how it can sound:
This is not a story about who was a better mother.
My relative loved her daughter completely. The sacrifice she made, the years she gave — that is its own kind of devotion I deeply respect.
But watching one woman have access to rest, support, and relief — while the other had none of those things — taught me something I can’t unknow:
- Money doesn’t replace love. But it can protect it.
- Money doesn’t buy peace of mind. But it can create the conditions for it.
- Money doesn’t make you who you are. But it can give you the space to be more of who you are.
The absence of money doesn’t remove love. But it can remove rest, relief, and the ability to choose.
Releasing the Shame
Once I saw money this way, the shame I’d been carrying started to dissolve.
Because I realized wanting money is not about greed. It’s rarely even about things.
For most women I know, wanting money is about:
- Wanting to stop running out of time
- Wanting to get real support, not just survive
- Wanting to make choices — about your life, your energy, your yes and your no
- Wanting dignity — for yourself and for the people you love
If you don’t talk about what you want, you don’t learn about it. You don’t pay attention to it. And if you don’t pay attention to it — how can you ever have it?
Silence about money isn’t humility. It’s disconnection.
What Money Means to Me Now
I no longer see money as just numbers in a bank account, or as a symbol of status, I’m supposed to want — and then feel guilty for wanting.
I see it as:
- Time — more of it, and more choice over how to spend it
- Support — so you’re not always carrying things alone
- Access — to healthcare, to rest, to opportunities
- Peace of mind — the kind that makes you a better mother, partner, friend, and version of yourself
Money, used with intention, removes pressure from the areas of life that matter most — your health, your relationships, your energy. It doesn’t replace those things. But it protects them.
A Question Worth Sitting With
I used to ask myself: does this make me look successful?
Now I ask: does this give me more freedom — or less?
Because I’m no longer interested in performing wealth. I’m interested in experiencing the life that financial freedom actually makes possible.
I don’t want money to impress anyone. I want money to support my life.
To create space where there was once pressure. To give me options where there were once none. To protect the things and people I love — including myself.
If you’ve ever felt conflicted about wanting money — maybe it’s time to ask yourself what you actually mean when you say that.
Because the goal was never money itself. It was always what money makes possible.
And that — that is worth wanting, out loud, without apology.
✦ ✦ ✦
Inspired by The Millionaire Fastlane by MJ DeMarco
Salima
Just me thinking out loud over here