Hey again,

Happy New Year! I know it's been a minute since my last newsletter. I wanted to use the New Year as a moment of reflection. If you've been here for a while, you know I'm all about values. It may sound like I'm a broken record, but this is so important that I'm willing to be a broken record about this. 

Before I continue jabbering on, take a look at the hotel image below:

Which room would you pick?

Any time we traveled when I was a kid and needed to stay at a hotel, it was the most exciting thing in the world. We didn’t have a lot of money, so luxury hotels weren’t really an option. It was usually a Super 8, La Quinta, Days Inn—or a Best Western if we were lucky. But to me, it didn’t matter. Hotels felt magical.

I lived for the indoor pool experience—the kind that was most definitely gross but felt incredible as a kid. The continental breakfast that sounded way fancier than it actually was. And every single time we arrived, my eyes would drift upward. I wanted the top floor.

Sometimes that meant three stories up, but still—it felt like the penthouse. Maybe I imagined the view was better. Maybe I just loved riding the elevator all the way to the top. Growing up in a one-story house with no basement, multiple floors felt mysterious. Elevated. Interesting. I’ve always been drawn to tall buildings and big skylines—even if a three-story Comfort Inn & Suites doesn’t exactly scream "skyscraper".

My mom, on the other hand, always insisted on a first-floor room.

She had her reasons. Easier exits in case of a fire. Less walking. More practical. More secure. And I never understood it—not because her logic was wrong, but because it didn’t matter to me. I didn’t care about convenience or escape routes. I cared about the experience. The perspective. The feeling of being up high.

Looking back, that difference says a lot.

My mom valued safety and security.
I valued freedom, novelty, and a good view (or so I imagined).

Neither of us was wrong.
We were just prioritizing different things.

So now I’m curious—when you looked at the hotel, which room did you pick?

The quiet, tucked-away room that feels calm and peaceful?
The top floor with the view?
The poolside room that prioritizes fun and enjoyment?
The simple, minimalist room next to the gym?
The first-floor room by the fire escape—safe, predictable, practical?

There’s no correct answer here. And there are plenty of other rooms someone could choose depending on what they value most. But here’s the key idea: choosing one room means not choosing all the others.

You don’t get the top-floor view and immediate pool access and total quiet and maximum safety and the lowest price. You pick a room—and that choice quietly comes with trade-offs. Not because you failed, but because that’s how reality works.

Money works the same way.

Every time we spend, save, or prioritize, we’re choosing a room. And most financial stress doesn’t come from choosing “bad” rooms—it comes from trying to pretend we can book every room at once.

We start peeking into other rooms.

“Wow… that space looks incredible.”
“That lifestyle must be amazing.”
“I feel so behind.”

But if we slow down and ask more honest questions, the picture changes.

Do I actually want to be 30 minutes away from my community—or do I just like how that house looks?

Do I want to rely on a car for everything?

Do I need a 20-car garage when I don’t even like cars?

Would that room actually support the life I’m trying to build—or just look good from the hallway?

So many people end up stressed and disappointed not because they chose the wrong room, but because they chose someone else’s—and then wondered why it didn’t feel like home once they moved in.

Of course, in a perfect world, we’d own the whole hotel. Every room. Every amenity. Total freedom. Total access. Total abundance.

But that isn’t how life works—and even people with more money than they could ever spend still feel like something is missing somewhere. There’s always a room they didn’t choose. A trade-off they had to make. A door they closed to open another one.

The real question isn’t whether you have everything.

It’s this:

Can you afford the things you say you value—without sacrificing what matters more?

If the answer is yes, that’s alignment.

If the answer is no, it doesn’t mean you’re bad with money (necessarily). It just means something needs adjusting.

Sometimes that adjustment looks like letting go of things society says you should want—but don’t actually care about. Sometimes it means choosing less of one thing so you can have more of another. And sometimes it means naming your values clearly for the first time and letting them guide your decisions instead of comparison.

To Close

There is no universally “right” room. There’s only the one that fits this season of your life.

So if you’ve been feeling behind, jealous, or quietly uneasy about your finances lately, I hope this gives you a bit of relief.

You’re not late.
You’re not failing.
You might just be standing in the hallway, staring into rooms you don’t actually want.

And if you’d like help figuring out what your room looks like—and how to afford it calmly and sustainably—I’m always here to help how I can.

💬 Book a financial coaching session
 (If you schedule before January 15th, you lock in 2025 rates through June 2026.)

Clarity over comparison,

P.S. Some links may be affiliate links, meaning I earn a small commission. No extra cost to you, and I only share what I trust!