No matter what anyone says, money is essential for happiness.
When illusions shatter upon reality
From a young age, I was taught that money isn’t the most important thing.
“The most important thing is to be surrounded by good people,” my parents would say.
“Love is what matters, not wealth.”
I believed them.
Then I grew up.
And realized how mistaken they were.
I married for love, but it wasn’t enough
I met Lucy when I was still a student.
We loved each other so deeply that we could barely breathe without one another.
When we got married, we had neither our own place nor savings, nor did we have any security about the future.
But none of that mattered to us.
We were happy.
Our children came along. The house was filled with their laughter, toys, and joy.
It all seemed so bright, so perfect.
Friends surrounded us, and we’d gather for lively celebrations, making me believe it would always be this way.
But life isn’t kind to those who believe in fairytales.
When the house lacks money, happiness disappears
The first blow came out of the blue.
I was made redundant.
Suddenly, I was without a job, without stability, without security.
Lucy kept working, but her salary wasn’t enough for anything.
At first, we just started to cut back.
Then, we began to avoid having guests over—there was nothing to entertain them with.
Gradually, the smiles vanished from our faces.
I could no longer afford even the simplest things
Lucy always appreciated beautiful items, nice cosmetics, expensive perfumes.
But now she had to rummage through charity shops, hunt for sales, and buy the cheapest options.
She learned not to look at quality—only the price.
And I’d look at her, noticing the light fading from her eyes.
She hated the cheap soap in the bathroom, the economy washing powder, everything that reminded her of our poverty.
I was losing her—a little more every day
She became frustrated.
She began to be angry with me.
Her looks were full of reproach—I understood she no longer saw in me the man who could change things.
I tried finding a job.
But all I was offered was security on a construction site for minimum wage.
I took it because I had no choice.
But it wasn’t enough.
Lucy grew increasingly silent, often turning away.
And I didn’t know what to say.
I just shrugged:
“What can I do?”
“We’re not the only ones,” I would say.
“Many people are in the same boat,” I’d try to reassure her.
But deep down, I knew it was weakness.
And she knew it was weakness.
And the love that once seemed unbreakable melted away like snow.
My parents were wrong. Money is everything.
I’m angry.
At myself.
At Lucy.
At my parents, who never taught me to strive for money, who didn’t instill in me the desire to earn.
They said money wasn’t the most important.
But it was the lack of money that tore my family apart.
Not love.
Not betrayal.
Just poverty.
And now I know: without money, there is no happiness.
