Happiness Isn't for Sale

If you live in the 21st century, there is one phrase you have almost certainly heard at least once in your life. Actually, I would bet you have heard it more times than you can count. Money can buy happiness.

Before wading into the endless debate around this, let's start with something more fundamental. What even is happiness? Eating whatever you want and doing nothing? Spending time with people you love? Buying something you've always wanted? I think the shape of happiness changes slightly as time goes on.

When I think back to my childhood, it looks nothing like what happiness means to me now. Back then, I laughed and smiled over practically nothing. Running around the playground with friends, climbing out windows like a monkey, riding bikes, hearing someone fart. Any of it was enough. I was happy constantly, and for no particular reason.

Looking at my son now, it's exactly the same. He laughs and lights up at things that barely register to me. Pure, effortless happiness over nothing at all.

In my school years, playing games made me happy. Simple as that. But as time passed, the shape of happiness kept quietly shifting.

Growing into adulthood, the frequency of that happiness started shrinking. Calling it unhappiness is probably more accurate. I thought about why. The environment had changed dramatically. School became society, society became the military, the military became a company. In school, the only thing I had to worry about was studying. In the real world, there are a thousand things to track: doing the job well, managing relationships with coworkers and superiors, not making mistakes. And when a mistake does happen, the guilt hits harder than you expect.

Look at the average workday. Dragged awake by an alarm, body heavy, crammed onto a packed train. Arrive and start working. Too much work and the overtime wears you down. Too little and the anxiety about how you look takes over. Online, everyone seems to be making a fortune. Your own paycheck looks small by comparison. Most offices have at least one genuinely difficult person, and if that person happens to be your boss, things get considerably worse.

I used to dread every Sunday. These days I don't. I'll come back to that.

Then there's the prefrontal cortex developing. The things I once loved most gradually lose all their appeal: pointless drinking sessions, wasting time, doing nothing in particular. And most people, to earn money, spend their days doing things they simply don't want to do. The 9-to-6 routine. Monday through Friday, the self goes dormant. It briefly revives on Friday evening, survives two days, then Sunday night arrives and the dread sets in again. I don't think I'm alone in this.

That long introduction exists for a reason. In the middle of that kind of life, people arrive at one conclusion: the only solution, the single ray of light in an otherwise bleak existence, is to get rich. That's why cryptocurrency, stocks, and real estate attract so much attention and then fade just as quickly. The common assumption underneath all of it: money can make you happy.

Can money buy happiness? My answer is no. At least, that's what I believe. The premise assumes that money itself creates happiness, that with enough of it you need nothing else. That premise is wrong.

Here's an example. Your entire family dies, but in exchange, you become the richest person in the world. Too extreme? Scale it down: ₩100 billion, ₩1 trillion, your pick. Would you do it? Some people would, and to those people, I genuinely hope the money brings them what they're looking for. But most people would say: no, that's extreme, that's not what I meant. The moment you say no, you have already admitted that money cannot make you happy.

Still too extreme? Let's go smaller. Receive ₩100 million (and yes, I know that isn't small, I don't have ₩100 million myself) in exchange for giving up your favorite hobby for ten years. Some people would agree. Some wouldn't. The ones who agree will think about that hobby every time the urge hits, and as time passes it will surface more frequently. Some will quit halfway through. And for those who do endure the full decade, does ₩100 million actually compensate for ten years of that kind of suppression? The fact that you'd even hesitate is proof enough. Money does not make people happy.

Office workers get paid. Are they happy? I think you already know the answer. If someone is happy after becoming rich, they were probably capable of being happy long before the money arrived.

I had a very hard time after becoming a father at twenty. I was a student in Japan at the time, working nonstop with no sleep to cover tuition, living expenses, and child support. Three consecutive days, no sleep, eighteen hours a day. I was miserable. The one moment I felt happy was looking at photos of my son. Just that, and nothing else. Outside of those few seconds, I was completely and thoroughly unhappy.

At the job I held from twenty-two to twenty-six, I gave everything. I worked until 3 or 4 in the morning, came in on weekends, never received overtime pay, never complained, kept working even after coming home. I had known for a long time that I amounted to nothing there, but actually letting myself accept it was genuinely painful. After that, I finally understood what actually makes a person happy.

The first thing: stop expecting. Stop expecting a promotion because you worked hard. Stop expecting to be compensated or recognized. And not just at work. The moment you give something to a friend or family member, let go of any thought that something should come back to you. That expectation has no place.

The second thing: worry. Not that you should stop worrying entirely. Excessive worry creates a kind of illness of the mind. If something is beyond your control, let it go. The vast majority of things people worry about never actually happen. And even when they do, does it kill you? No.

There is more I could say, but I will point to a book instead: Dale Carnegie's How to Stop Worrying and Start Living. Nearly everything I had experienced firsthand was already in those pages, along with wisdom I hadn't found yet. Worth reading.

Whenever I try something new or feel anxious about how something will turn out, I remind myself: at least I won't die. I think through the worst case first. Fired from a job? The true worst case is failing to find new work, savings running out, unable to provide for my family. But there are always options: part-time work, day labor, any number of ways to earn. Whatever happens, I'm not dying. Which means nothing is really that bad. I apply this thinking to everything.

When worry piles up, writing it down makes most of it disappear. The act of writing forces you to see what you can actually do right now, and why the worry exists in the first place.

What I am really saying is this: money itself cannot buy happiness. Honestly, just getting rid of worry and fear is enough to feel significantly better. And there's no rule that says you have to be happy all the time. A quiet, unremarkable day is not a bad thing.

When something bad happens, it will pass. My personal threshold: as long as my family doesn't face a terminal illness, I can manage whatever else comes. Job loss, financial pressure, failure. None of it reaches that level. None of it actually kills me.

Wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, I stay focused on the present. Even cleaning trash, I don't tell myself I'm unhappy. Once you start comparing, there is no end. Work within the environment you have, find happiness inside that daily life. I believe that path is faster than waiting to get rich.

Wake up alive in the morning. Get through the workday without being fired, then come home. Your son is there, playing happily. That is already happiness. Find it in the everyday first. And if money comes on top of that, it will only make things better.