Money: It’s the driving force behind most of our decisions, and, for many, it’s seen as the ultimate goal. If we just earn enough, we tell ourselves, everything will fall into place. The sun will shine, our problems will vanish, and life will be perfect. It seems simple, doesn’t it? After all, it’s easier to set a clear, measurable goal—like achieving a certain net worth—than to tackle the harder, more elusive questions about life’s meaning.
But here’s the catch: Money is a great tool, but it’s a terrible goal. Pursuing wealth for its own sake can lead you down an endless, hollow path that only leaves you more unsatisfied. The pursuit of money can distract us from the deeper, more important work of finding purpose, building meaningful relationships, and living a life we’re proud of. So why does money often become the object of our obsession? And why does it fail to bring the fulfillment we expect?
The False Promise of Money
The first issue with chasing money is that it simply doesn’t bring the happiness we expect. In theory, if we just reach a certain financial milestone, we’ll feel secure, content, and happy. Yet, when we achieve that goal—whether it’s a net worth of a million dollars or more—the satisfaction is often fleeting. We feel no different than we did before.
At first, it may seem like a simple problem: I didn’t set my goal high enough. So, I’ll set a new, more ambitious target. That’s how the achievement treadmill works. You reach one goal, only to find it doesn’t fulfill you, so you raise the stakes and chase something higher. But even when you hit that next target, you’re left just as unsatisfied. The cycle repeats, each milestone pushing you further into the pursuit without ever filling the void.
This is the first trap. The belief that more money will always make us happy is an illusion, and chasing that illusion is a sure way to waste precious time.
The Fear of Loss
The second issue lies in something called “loss aversion,” a psychological concept that was popularized by Nobel laureate Daniel Kahneman. The theory is simple: People fear losing something they’ve gained more than they value obtaining it in the first place.
Let’s say you’ve reached your financial goal of a million dollars. Instead of feeling elated, you might start feeling an overwhelming fear of losing it. Suddenly, you’re terrified that a market downturn or a surprise expense will wipe away everything you’ve worked so hard for. This fear can drive you to make overly cautious decisions or become obsessed with financial security, preventing you from enjoying the fruits of your labor. Instead of experiencing joy or freedom, you find yourself trapped in an anxiety loop.
Why Do We Fall for This?
If money doesn’t make us happy, why do we keep chasing it? The answer is simple: It’s easier. It’s much easier to focus on earning and saving money than to confront the deeper questions of life. Pursuing wealth provides us with a concrete target, something measurable and achievable. We know that if we work hard enough, follow the right strategies, and make the right investments, we can get there.
On the other hand, asking yourself, What makes me truly happy? What gives my life meaning? What relationships and experiences are most important to me?—these are far harder questions to answer. They require introspection, vulnerability, and courage. And, perhaps most difficult of all, they remind us that life is finite. We might not have time to achieve everything we hope for, and we might fail along the way. That’s a much scarier possibility than pursuing a goal that’s straightforward and quantifiable.
The Mirage of Money
Ultimately, money is a distraction. It’s a mirage that allows us to avoid the hard work of figuring out what truly matters in life. It’s easier to focus on growing a bank account than it is to examine our values, our dreams, and our fears. And because money is tangible, we can see it growing, count it, and use it. But when it comes to pursuing purpose, happiness, and fulfillment, the path isn’t so clear-cut.
As a hospice doctor, I’ve seen the consequences of this obsession up close. I sit with people at the end of their lives, and more often than not, the regrets they share have nothing to do with money. No one ever tells me, I wish I had made more money or I should’ve worked harder. Instead, they express a deep regret that they didn’t live their life according to their true values. They wish they’d had the courage to take risks, to be authentic, or to spend more time with the people they loved.
In The Top Five Regrets of the Dying, author Bronnie Ware documents the most common regrets of those facing the end of their lives. The top regret isn’t financial—it’s the unfulfilled desire to have lived life more authentically and to have prioritized what truly mattered over superficial concerns like wealth and success.
Money as a Tool, Not a Goal
The key is understanding that money is a tool, not a goal. We need enough money to support the things that truly matter in our lives—whether that’s spending time with loved ones, pursuing a passion, or creating something meaningful. But if we become overly obsessed with accumulating wealth, we miss the point of it all.
The goal shouldn’t be to achieve a specific net worth or to chase after the next financial milestone. The goal should be to use money as a means to create the life you truly want. In the end, what we regret most isn’t whether we made a few extra dollars but whether we lived a life we can look back on with pride. Did we pursue our passions? Did we nurture the relationships that mattered? Did we live authentically, or did we spend our lives chasing an illusion?
The Bottom Line
So, if you’re feeling stuck in the endless cycle of chasing wealth, take a step back. Ask yourself: What’s really important to me? What do I want my life to stand for? Find clarity on those deeper questions and let money be the tool that supports your true purpose—not the goal itself.
Money may open doors, but it’s not the key to happiness. The key is living a life aligned with your values, taking risks, embracing joy, and focusing on what really matters. After all, when you’re on your deathbed, you’re not going to regret not having more money—you’ll regret not having lived fully.