I once spent six hours at 3 a.m. deciding whether to buy a $15 microphone.
Last week, I bought a $325 ticket to Kyoto in twenty minutes — without blinking.
Same person. Totally different brain.
Here’s what changed — and how I realised fear isn’t the problem until it’s steering me away from what matters.
Before I quit my job, I was terrified of running out of time.
Now? I’m terrified of running out of money.
Both fears have trapped me — just in different cages.
Back then, time was my rarest currency.
I was ready to drop $30,000 on months in Whistler to ride and train as a mountain bike guide.
If the clock was ticking, I wanted to squeeze every drop out of it.
Now, I have the opposite:
Plenty of time… but a constant hum in the background: Don’t waste your money.
Which is how I ended up spending six hours at 3 a.m. paralysed over a $15 microphone.
Blue light burning my eyes.
One hundred review tabs open — and I still missed the obvious Shopee scam.
I didn’t want to waste money or create waste.
And, apparently, I didn’t want to sleep either.
Lesson learned: cheap mics aren’t cheap if they cost you six hours of your life.
Then, a decision showed up that felt completely different in my body.
The Kyoto ticket.
A rare chance to see my Kiwi friends — the family of three (now four) I once lived with.
We’d spend hours talking at the kitchen bench. They didn’t have much money, but they had something rarer: time.
They showed me what it looks like when parents put family before career — living with friends, travelling together, building a life where connection is part of the daily routine.
It’s shown me a different way of living that’s just as fulfilling — and it’s more about mindset than how full the bank account is.
And lately, I’ve been asking myself what I really fear.
It’s not dying.
It’s dying alone.
That thought shoved “relationships” to the top of the list.
I remembered one of the top regrets of the dying: not keeping in touch with friends.
So $325 to see people I love — and visit a city I’ve dreamed of for years?
That wasn’t a cost. It was alignment.
Click. Done.
With Chris Martin in my head: Look at the stars, look how they shine for you… (what a warm play)
And just like that, I realised — the decision felt light because it was rooted in what matters, not in fear.
When I trust that more will come — money, opportunities, love, even life — my grip loosens.
Before, my cage was time.
Now, it’s money.
The bars look different, but the trap feels the same — unless I choose differently.
May we all choose the ticket over the tabs.
