Redefining Enough While Broke

An honest refusal to chase more, even when the numbers say you should.

We all know the script by now:

• $10K months or you’re not legit

• Passive income while you sleep

• If you're not scaling, you're stalling

It’s the background noise of every business circle and newsletter. A constant hum that says you should be doing more, earning more, growing faster. That if you're not expanding, you're wasting your time.

At first, I didn’t question it. Everyone seemed to be chasing the same thing. So I set goals I thought I was supposed to have. I tracked numbers that didn’t reflect my values. I said yes when I wanted to say, “I’m tired.”

That "motivation" turned into a trap. Even when I was doing well on paper, I didn’t feel steady—just scattered. Like success was something I had to keep chasing or it would vanish. It wasn’t freedom. It was pressure in prettier packaging.

That script never asks how you're feeling. It only asks how you're performing. And how much money you’re making.

The Whisper That Won’t Go Away

Somewhere in all that chasing, I started to feel it: What if I don’t want to scale? What if this isn’t my version of success?

At the start of my business (and off and on since), my goal was to build a full-service agency. Because that’s what scaling looked like, or so I was told.

But every time I moved toward that goal, I felt resistance. Not the resistance of something unfamiliar. The resistance of something that wasn’t right.

The idea of not working directly with clients—or managing a team—filled me with dread. Not excitement.

Cracks in the Narrative

Even after I heard the whisper, it took time for the old script to loosen its grip.

I had wins:

• A full calendar

• Clients praising my work

• Someone calling me “an example”

But I felt off. Like I was playing a part I never auditioned for.

I was proud and grateful—but also tense and overextended. There was no space to think. No space to market. No space to love what I’d built.

I kept waiting for success to click. But it never did. Because I wasn’t building something I wanted. I was just trying not to fall behind.

Choosing a Different Metric

Eventually, I stopped asking how to get ahead and started asking what actually feels like enough.

Enough, for me, isn’t a finish line—it’s whatever keeps me from unraveling.

It’s:

• Having what I need for rent, groceries, and maybe a DoorDash meal that doesn’t taste like regret

• Being able to take a break without everything collapsing

• Doing work I don’t resent with clients I respect

That shift didn’t fix everything. But it made things clearer.

Here’s how I started measuring success:

• Days without dread > Monthly revenue goals

• Emails I’m proud to send > Instagram saves

• Space to think and breathe > Scale and growth

What Enough Has Given Me

Choosing enough didn’t make me rich. But it gave me what I needed:

• A steadiness that doesn’t require pretending

• Clarity about what really matters

• Permission to stop performing someone else’s version of success

I’m not working less. I’m working more deliberately—protecting my energy so I can show up fully for what actually matters.

There’s more space now. Fewer panic spirals. More mornings that start with breath, not dread.

It’s not glamorous. But it’s mine.

The Fear (and Freedom) of Slowing Down

No one claps when you choose enough. But that doesn’t make it wrong.

Slowing down brings questions:

• Are you still doing okay?

• What happened to that launch?

• Is everything alright?

Sometimes those questions are external. Often, they’re internal.

In my current financial situation, that fear is loud. But there’s freedom on the other side:

• In choosing rest over reach

• In trusting my own rhythms

• In building something sustainable—not just visible

I still second-guess myself. But from a quieter place.

When Comparison Creeps In

Even with a clear commitment to “enough,” comparison still finds me—usually when I’m tired or scrolling.

It starts with a post: a sold-out offer, a four-figure day. And suddenly I’m wondering if I should be pushing harder.

Here’s what helps:

• I mute. Not from jealousy, but to protect my peace.

• I return to my own timeline.

• I remind myself: someone else’s win isn’t my failure.

Some days, I say out loud: “I’m happy for them. And I don’t want their life.”
Other days, I just log off and watch Netflix.

Comparison isn’t weakness. It’s a signal that I need to return to myself.

When Enough Gets Tested

Right now, my enough is being tested.

I’m broke. Not “broke but thriving.” Just broke.

I’m looking for full-time work because rent’s due and groceries don’t wait. I’ve applied for jobs that pay far less than I charge a single client—but it comes with health insurance, paid time, and a consistent paycheck. And still, I’m not ready to walk away from my business.

This is where enough gets complicated. It’s one thing to choose slow when you have a cushion. It’s another when you’re refreshing job boards at midnight.

But even here, I remind myself:

• I’m not failing. I’m adapting.

• I’m making choices with care, not shame.

• Enough can flex—it’s something I revisit, not something I force.

A New Definition of Success

I don’t care if it looks good on Instagram. I care if it feels right in my body.

Success, for me, isn’t loud. It’s not always profitable. Sometimes, it’s just not quitting.

I ask:

• Did I stay honest today?

• Did I protect my peace, even if it cost momentum?

• Am I still willing to bet on this version of my life?

If the answer is yes—even barely—that’s enough for now.

What would change if you believed that enough was already here—even when it doesn’t look like it yet?

Enough might not impress anyone.
But it’s the only version of success that lets me feel peace.