I’ve been catching myself doing it again.
That thing where I keep telling myself that if only we had THAT, then we would be set.
“If we only we had X amount of money, I wouldn’t stress.”
“If we buy the house, I’ll feel settled.”
It’s not always about money (although, typically it is). It’s any future version of life I can project onto and decide that’s the one where things finally click. Where it all feels easier, fuller, more comfortable.
Where I can stop thinking about what’s next.
It’s subtle how it all happens, too.
When you’re in it (and I mean, fully in it), the chasing doesn’t even feel like chasing. It feels reasonable. Even responsible. Of course you want more money, more friends, a bigger house, a better job. And of course you want to keep improving your life. Hell, everyone else is doing it too!
But somewhere along the way, the target you set starts shifting, and shifting, and shifting without you realizing it.
What once felt like “more than enough” or even a “dream life” suddenly becomes baseline. Gradually and methodically, we’ve just adapted.
We’re not actually chasing more. We’re chasing the feeling we assume will come with more. We claim it’s stability, a sense of calm, security. The sense that things are handled. That we’ll finally be able to stop thinking about it so much.
But we’re never going to find that through accumulation. Because the second we get closer, our definition changes. We’re not chasing “enough,” we’re chasing “what’s next.”
And then there’s the comparison.
You simply can’t measure your life against your own expectations when you have a constant stream of other people’s lives in your pocket. Social media has recalibrated what normal looks like. You’re comparing your day-to-day to someone else’s highs. People you haven’t seen in years. People you don’t even actually know, Their best moments and purchases. Without context or their tradeoffs. Put simply, without the full picture.
And even though we know that. We can’t help but let it alter our baseline.
This is the part that gets uncomfortable. Most of us want it to be different. The peace and the presence and the contentment. But we optimize for progression. We’re reallllly good at building for a “better future.” We’re just not that good at living inside the one we already have.
There are moments that feel like enough.
A slow, early weekend morning. No urgency or anywhere to be. A newborn asleep on your chest. The sound of espresso grinding while your partner makes you a cappuccino. The window is cracked open, birds in the background.
A moment so complete you couldn’t wish for anything better.
But these moments don’t scale, or compound, or signal anything to anyone. So instead of treating these as foundational moments of life, we treat them as fleeting.
The famous philosopher Lao Tzu famously said, “He who knows that enough is enough will always have enough.” It sounds obvious and even too simple. Knowing is one thing, remembering is another. Enough isn’t something you hit once and then keep forever. It’s something you have to keep noticing.
So here’s what I’m trying, in ways that actually feel doable:
1 // A simple daily reset
My friends and I use a gratitude app where we post one photo and three things from the day. They’re usually small, almost inconsequential moments, but that’s the point. It actually forces you to notice what made the day feel full. And as a bonus, you stay connected to your friends in a very real, everyday way.
2 // Consumption audit
Take a look at what you’re consuming: books, shows, social, newsletters. What consistently leaves you feeling drained or not enough? Unsubscribe, mute, delete. Not everything needs access to your attention.
3 // Call it out when it happens
When you notice a moment that feels like enough, don’t just let it pass. Sit in it for a second. Say it out loud to your partner, your friends, even just to yourself.
I don’t think the goal is to stop wanting more. Because that’s not realistic. And honestly, it’s part of what makes life interesting.
But there’s a difference between wanting more and believing you don’t have enough.