From Holding Back to Giving Back

When I was younger, I believed that happiness had nothing to do with money. That’s why working hard just for the sake of money always felt somewhat meaningless to me. I was obviously not interested in building a career or increasing my earnings.

In fact, I spent most of my life until my mid-forties working as a temporary worker, and even though I was essentially living in poverty, it didn’t bother me much. As long as I could manage to live day by day, I thought that was enough.

But maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Every time my income dropped or I became jobless, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. I think I was just telling myself that “it’s not about material wealth” to avoid facing that fear.

What eventually changed my thinking was a business mentorship group I joined during the pandemic. Looking back, their promises and practices were very doubtful — it all seemed more like empty talk than real support — and in many ways, I wish I hadn’t gotten involved. But one good thing did come out of it: it broadened my perspective on what it means to work and earn money.

Among the money-driven people I used to look down on, there were some who genuinely believed that by earning and spending money, they were helping to circulate the economy and contribute to society. At first, I couldn’t relate to that mindset at all. But as I got to know them better, I began to see that their actions were often rooted in a sense of goodwill and honest intentions.

The idea that economic growth improves people’s lives was something I had never seriously considered. I used to think that living simply and saving money was a good thing. But now I wonder if it was actually just for my own self-satisfaction. In reality, I was just benefiting from the wealth created by others without giving much back.

Since then, my own lifestyle has started to shift. I’ve moved away from my old habits of saving money and begun spending at local shops and restaurants. Paying for something now feels like a way to support someone’s work and everyday life. Even spending time at a cafe has started to feel like a meaningful way to support them.

That change has turned out to be more significant than I expected. What used to be a rather isolated way of living has gradually become more connected. I’ve started to feel a sense of community—like when a local shop owner remembers my name, or we exchange a few friendly words. In those small interactions, I now find a kind of richness I never experienced before.