Why enough is the new rich
No one needs a trillion dollar payday to be rich.
Gary Bloomer | SHAKING THE TREE # 266
Admit it.
You’ve all felt the pull … that quiet, gnawing feeling of envy when a colleague or neighbour parks a brand new luxury ride for everyone to see.
It could be a sports coupé. Or a top of the line off-roader. Either way, there is is, and really? For what? Bragging rights? OK then …
Been there. Done that. And I’m over it.
That sort of envy is no different with any scroll through social media: there’s the highlight reel of the luxury vacation, or the tour around the designer kitchen, or the closet full of new outfits.
Whatever it is, it’s the unspoken pressure to keep up, the nagging feeling that you’ve got to show the world—and perhaps yourself—that you'’re winning.
This is the siren song of status. And man alive, is it tiring … and expensive!
In many circles, status has become something of a performance art—an exclusive show and tell; an invite only shindig—and the tickets aren’t cheap.
Status demands the leased car that strains your monthly budget, it insists on the house in the right post code that devours your income, and on the must have wardrobe filled with logos that whisper (or shout) of prestige.
The trappings of status look rich: a brilliant facade, meticulously curated for public consumption and for social envy. But behind the glossy veneer, the reality is often one of quiet scrambling desperation: the wallet full of maxed-out credit cards, the sleepless nights worrying over bills, and the relentless anxiety of maintaining an image that your finances can’t sustain.
But what’s any of this got to do with creating great content?
Everything.
Or, more specifically, your relentless pursuit of someone else’s status is the single greatest killer of you creating authentic, powerful, and lasting work.
When you’re living beyond your means, you operate from a place of scarcity and fear. This mindset is a poison to creativity.
You can’t take creative risks. You need the next pay cheque, so you take the “safe” client, the boring project, the work that pays the bills for the car you can’t afford. Rather than being a a content creator with a point of view, you become a content mercenary.
Your voice becomes diluted. You’re constantly looking over your shoulder, worried about what the algorithm or the “influencers” in your niche are doing. You start mimicking trends instead of setting them, because following feels safer than leading. Instead of being your authentic voice, your content becomes an echo.
You burn out. The energy required to maintain a financial facade is the same energy you need to be creative. That well runs dry pretty quickly when you’re constantly anxious about money. Creativity requires mental space and personal peace, and there is no space or peace when your thinking is filled with the noise of financial worry.
Now, let’s flip the script. What happens when you live with enough? You operate from a place of abundance and freedom. This is the fertile ground for great content.
Freedom allows for integrity. When you aren’t financially desperate, you can say “no” to projects that don’t align with your values. You can fire the bad client. This integrity is the bedrock of a trusted brand. People can sense it. They are drawn to creators who aren’t trying to sell them something with every breath.
When you have enough, you don’t need more. This means you can afford to experiment; go ahead and publish that weird, personal essay, or try a new format. Not every piece of content needs to have a monstrous ROI because your survival doesn’t depend on its immediate performance. This is how you stumble upon greatness.
Freedom compounds into better ideas. With your basic financial security handled, your mind is free to wander, to connect disparate dots, to dive deep into a subject. The compound interest of freedom isn’t just money in the bank; it’s a wealth of undeveloped ideas and the mental capacity to develop them.
Status-focused content is a play to the crowd performance. It’s the perfectly curated, airbrushed life anchored by the “look at me” post. It’s expensive to produce, it’s exhausting to maintain, and it often rings hollow because your audience can feel the phony striving behind it.
Freedom-focused content is a contribution. It comes from a place of having enough, and therefore having something to give—an insight, a laugh, a new perspective, a moment of connection. It feels rich because it’s created from a place of abundance, not lack.
So, what’s any of this got to do with creating great content?
Your finances are not separate from your creativity; they are the foundation of it. Building a life of “enough” isn’t just a smart financial move—it’s the most strategic career decision you can make as a content creator. It buys you the one thing you can’t get back: the freedom to be truly, authentically, and powerfully you.
When you’re forever playing to the gallery you can’t be yourself and being yourself is the only thing that ever creates content that truly matters.
When you’re living beyond your means you become a tenant in the prison of your own lifestyle. Your high income doesn’t buy you choices; it’s immediately earmarked for the debt that funded the image you’ve built and that you need to sustain. Your time isn’t your own; it’s traded for the pay cheque required to service the debt. You are, in effect, working for your possessions, not the other way around. The wealth is an illusion; the stress is profoundly real.
Now, let’s talk about freedom.
Freedom isn’t nearly as loud. It doesn’t need to be. While status is expensive, freedom compounds. It’s not about what you own, but what you own outright. It’s the gap between your income and your needs—a gap filled not with more stuff, but with more choice.
Freedom is the ability to say “no, thank you” to a client or a job that drains your soul, because your runway is long enough to find a better one. It’s taking a sabbatical to travel, learn a skill, or just be with your family, without the world crashing down. It’s the quiet confidence of a healthy investment account, not as a number to boast about, but as a tool that works silently for you through the night.
This is the profound upside of living with enough. “Enough” isn’t a life of deprivation. It’s a life of intentionality. It’s a well-cooked meal at home with friends instead of an overpriced restaurant meal for the ‘gram. It’s a reliable, paid-off car that gets you from A to B, freeing up capital for what truly brings you joy. It’s choosing experiences that enrich you, not just photos that impress others.
Status looks rich. Freedom feels rich.
It feels like a deep, steady breath on a Monday morning. It feels like the space to think, to create, and to connect without the static of financial anxiety. The compound interest of freedom isn’t just financial; it’s emotional and psychological. Every month you live comfortably within your means, your peace of mind grows. Every debt you clear adds another brick to your foundation of security.
So, the next time you feel the pull of status, ask yourself: Am I buying an asset, or am I renting a liability? Am I investing in my freedom, or am I mortgaging it?
Choose the quiet wealth. Define your own “enough.” You’ll find that a life built on freedom doesn’t just look good on a balance sheet—it feels like a fortune.
As always, thanks for reading.
—Gary
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P.S. If you found this useful, share it with another creator who needs an ego check (in a nice way). Want more unfiltered takes on content creation? Join my newsletter. No fluff, just the stuff that works.
Next time on Shaking the Tree: Strategist or Hustler? (You Need to Be Both)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Originally from the U.K., Gary Bloomer is a writer, branding advocate, marketing specialist, and an award-winning graphic designer.
His design work has been included in Creative Review (one of the UK’s largest design magazines). Since 2009, he has answered over 5,000 marketing and business questions in the Know-How Exchange of MarketingProfs.com, placing him among the top 3% of contributors. He lives in Wilmington, Delaware, USA.
In response to your opening statement. It really depends on how much paper does it take to wipe your own arse, because pretty soon that’s all it will be useful for.