Money Can’t Buy You Happiness. Says Who?

If I had a dollar for every time someone said to me, “money can’t buy you happiness”, I would be filthy rich. My response is always, “who hurt you?”

Growing up in a town that wasn’t really about building financial wealth or seeing the world, has had its set backs. I have always seen myself as different—I stuck out like a sore thumb. Going from college, to getting married, settling, having multiple kids, and a white picket fence, has never been on my agenda. Making money, being independent, and traveling has and still is.

When the COVID-19 pandemic started, I remember feeling stuck. I said yes to a low paying 9-5 job, knowing full well there was zero opportunity for advancement in the company, but I had bills to pay and needed to put food on the table. I remember sitting in my therapist office balling and crying because I was so miserable! To top it off, my now 8 year old was struggling socially in school—I felt like I had finally made it to hell, and I couldn’t see a single light at the end of the tunnel. By the time 2021 hit, I was done living in hell. I was plotting my exit at my job and my entrance into my career.

By May of 2021,I was the epitome of “the angry black woman”. I was unfazed by the bullshit. I took a weekend trip to Chicago (which really opened my eyes—I regret not staying longer), and came back to West Virginia a new person. I put my two weeks notice in at the beginning of the work week. Ended up over staying my two weeks notice, which by the way 10/10 do not recommend. Let me just tell you, not having to wake up and go into a place that made me feel like shit was a blessing—

I didn’t have a game plan. I just knew I wanted to sell insurance. I had turned down an offer in the passed, and have regretted it everyday. Now was my time to shine. I studied for my state exam every day. I attempted to attend college classes in the mix of my struggle, but I’m going to be real with you, college work wasn’t my focus; financial freedom was. I took my health insurance license exam and failed two times. Third time was a charm. I accepted a job working as a captive agent with Horace Mann (story for another day), and began my journey—