Why Mental Health Is True Wealth

At 29, I had everything I thought I wanted.

The six-figure salary. The corner office with the city view. The luxury apartment, the designer clothes, the envious looks from old classmates at reunions. I'd climbed the ladder fast, sacrificed everything to get there, and finally made it.

I was successful.

I was also falling apart.

The Breaking Point Nobody Saw Coming

It started small. Trouble sleeping. A tightness in my chest that never fully went away. Irritability that I blamed on stress.

Then came the panic attacks.

The first one hit during a board meeting. My heart started racing. The room spun. I couldn't breathe. I excused myself, stumbled to the bathroom, and sat on the cold tile floor, convinced I was dying.

The ER doctor said it was anxiety. Gave me a prescription and sent me home.

I threw the pills away. Anxiety was for weak people. I was strong. I was successful. I just needed to work harder, push through, prove I could handle it.

So I did.

I worked longer hours. Skipped meals. Survived on coffee and adrenaline. Ignored the trembling hands and the constant knot in my stomach. I told myself this was what success looked like—this was the price you paid for being exceptional.

Until the morning I couldn't get out of bed.

When Success Stops Being Worth It

I woke up and felt... nothing.

Not sad. Not anxious. Just empty. Completely, utterly hollow.

I stared at the ceiling for three hours before I finally reached for my phone and called my mom. She answered on the first ring, cheerful and bright.

"How's my successful daughter?"

And I just started crying. Deep, guttural sobs that scared both of us.

She was at my apartment within an hour.

The Conversation That Changed Everything

My mom sat on the edge of my bed, holding my hand, and asked the question I'd been avoiding for months:

"Is it worth it?"

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to defend my choices, my sacrifices, my relentless pursuit of more.

But the truth came out instead:

"I don't know who I am anymore."

I'd spent so many years chasing external validation—the promotions, the raises, the recognition—that I'd completely neglected the person doing the chasing. I'd built an impressive life on a foundation of anxiety, burnout, and exhaustion.

I was wealthy on paper and bankrupt in my soul.

The Investment I'd Been Ignoring

That day, I made the hardest decision of my life: I took a leave of absence from work.

My colleagues were shocked. My boss tried to talk me out of it. "You're on track to make VP by 32," he said, like that should be reason enough to stay.

But I'd finally realized something crucial: what's the point of reaching the top if you're too broken to enjoy the view?

I started therapy. Real, consistent therapy with a psychologist who helped me understand that my worth wasn't tied to my productivity. That rest wasn't weakness. That mental health wasn't a luxury—it was the foundation everything else was built on.

I learned to set boundaries. To say no. To recognize that constant anxiety wasn't normal or necessary.

I started sleeping again. Eating real meals. Taking walks without checking my phone. Slowly, carefully, I rebuilt myself from the inside out.

The Wealth I'd Been Missing

Three months into my leave, something remarkable happened.

I woke up and felt... light. Not ecstatic, not euphoric—just peacefully, contentedly okay.

It was the first time in years I'd felt that way.

I realized then that I'd been chasing the wrong kind of wealth. I'd measured success in salary bumps and job titles while completely ignoring the richness of peace of mind, of genuine rest, of actually enjoying my life.

Mental health wasn't something to achieve after success—it was the success itself.

Redefining What Wealth Means

When I returned to work, I returned differently. I kept the boundaries I'd built. I prioritized sleep over late-night emails. I used my vacation days. I saw my therapist weekly, no exceptions.

Some people didn't understand. I lost the VP track. I stopped being the first one in and last one out.

But I gained something infinitely more valuable: I gained myself back.

I'm 32 now. I make less money than I did three years ago. My career trajectory isn't as impressive on paper.

But I sleep through the night. I laugh with friends. I have hobbies again. The tightness in my chest is gone.

I'm not just surviving anymore. I'm actually living.

The True Measure of Success

Here's what I wish someone had told me at 22, when I was just starting out, hungry and ambitious and willing to sacrifice everything:

Your mental health is not the price you pay for success. It's the foundation success should be built on.

All the money in the world can't buy back your peace of mind once you've lost it. All the achievements ring hollow when you're too anxious to enjoy them. All the external validation means nothing if you don't recognize yourself in the mirror.

Your Most Important Investment

If you're reading this while pushing through burnout, ignoring the warning signs, telling yourself you'll rest after you achieve just one more thing—please stop.

Invest in your mental health now. Not later. Not after the promotion or the raise or the recognition. Now.

See the therapist. Take the break. Set the boundaries. Rest without guilt.

Because the truest wealth you'll ever have is a mind at peace, a body that isn't constantly flooded with stress hormones, and a life you actually want to be present for.

Everything else is just noise.

Protect your peace. It's the only wealth that really matters.

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Thank you for reading...

Regards: Fazal Hadi