At the start of the year, I set myself a range of goals.

I realised I had spent the previous 5 years purely focused on building my writing career. It’s been fun, but I couldn’t shake this feeling that there is more of life to experience.

Some included:

• Run a half-marathon
• Learn Spanish
• Write a book
• Travel South America
• Go to a meditation retreat
• Try stand-up comedy

So I strapped on my shoes, downloaded Duolingo, and began writing my book.

But as spring gave way to summer, life gave way to business. I went ‘monk mode’ to build my new course, Productize Your Knowledge, which is internet bro-code for turning into a hermit. As I gave myself to relentless 14-hour days, I noticed something interesting:

My goals began to feel pointless.

Why run long distance if it made me too tired to work afterwards?

Why learn Spanish when I could listen to more useful podcasts?

Why write a book when I could build more profitable offers?

Why leave the UK when I could work 10x more here?

It became hard to do anything but work. The thought of wasting a day on other hobbies made me feel agitated. Even seeing friends became difficult. I couldn’t stop looking at life through the lens of an ROI—and almost everything was falling short.

Addicted to ambition

This behaviour has been a common pattern for me. My ego is wrapped up in my work ethic. And now that I’ve found a skill I love, it’s even more intense. Purpose is a hell of a drug—I’ve never worked harder or focused more.

But like any drug, the more you have, the more you want.

The problem is that ambition can become blinding. You can love the process but fall victim to chasing external results. Especially when you start to win. You crave the next big hit, so create a bubble to make sure you don’t get distracted. You have big goals to hit, and you tell yourself the secret is absolute focus.

You care so much about making it in life that you forget to live it.

Waking up.

I was ripped out of my rapidly narrowing reality in July.

It was my best friend’s birthday, and I surprised him by turning up in Barcelona.

I’d just given up on learning Spanish. However, after a day in Spain, my love was reignited. Taxi drivers, waiters, shop assistants. Every conversation was a blend of fear and fascination—I felt so alive.

After Barcelona, another friend’s birthday pulled me to Norway. I was anxious because I had a book to write. The comfort and certainty of home were calling me. But instead, I explored Oslo before heading to the coast. I spent 3 days kayaking through fjords and hiking in the most stunning scenery I’ve enjoyed.

What are you optimising for?

I didn’t realise, but this year, I sat on a knife’s edge for life’s direction.

Because July was my 5th anniversary as a writer. I’ve enjoyed being both an artist and an entrepreneur. Whilst the two aren’t mutually exclusive, they are different games.

On one hand, I could push hard for business. More offers, more sales emails, more grinding. Another 5 years of hustle and I’d be set for life. On the other, I create more space for writing. Which means more exploring, thinking, and living.

Because the best writing happens away from the computer.

Now, you might say, "Why not both?” But you can only do a few things well. And so when you’re faced with two choices, you must reflect on the deeper question:

What do you truly want?

Not what other people want. Not what society tells you to want. But you—at the core.

What did I decide?

Well, the day I returned from Norway, I handed in my notice for my flat and booked a one-way ticket to South America. I’ve just become a resident of Paraguay, and now I’m writing this from Buenos Aires.

The risk of just wanting to be rich.

I can’t tell you how to live, but I can share an observation.

I was most miserable when I only cared about making money. As a dentist, my identity was so wrapped up in my income that I was in a constant state of insecurity. I couldn’t stop working because the emptiness was terrifying, and my self-worth was closely tied to how much I could make that month.

I couldn’t enjoy simple pleasures.

The beauty of a sunrise, the joy of a long walk with no intention, the fun of learning new hobbies. Because these things don’t make the money machine go brrrr.

I thought once I’d made it, things would change.

But more money does not fix a shallow mind.

If you can’t appreciate life during the climb, you won’t appreciate the view.

You become a zombie when all you do is dance to the relentless beat of status, money, and power. But there’s a full orchestra playing. And a rich life requires you to slow down and listen to it.

My ambitious friends might scoff at this and call me soft.

But I’m not suggesting you relax. This is a better way to succeed.

Let me wrap up by pointing out two reasons why.

What depth unlocks

First, the key to success is persistence.

But if all you can do is make money, you are rigid. When life challenges you, which it will, you snap under stress. For example, I have several friends who are fantastic entrepreneurs, yet their relationships are awful.

And it’s starting to impact their work seriously.

But when you find joy in many things, you don’t snap with stress. You sway. You move with reality instead of fighting against it. This keeps you in the game. You don’t burn out or blow up.

Second, the Internet has given power to the people.

To take advantage, you must become a person worth following.

Most creators get this wrong. They chase an audience without having something interesting to say. They build a brand by talking about how to build a brand and a business by talking about building a business.

This might attract superficial attention. But once your audience has learned your tactics, they won’t stick around.

You must be both useful and unique.

The best lessons come from an interesting life. So if you want to change the world, become a citizen of it. And sure, making money is interesting. But what’s fascinating isn't how much you can make; it’s what you do as a result.

Don’t just aim to be rich. Aim to live a rich life.

Kieran