Most of what we read — online or in the news — revolves around the extremes.
Someone wins $30 million in the lottery.
A couple immigrates and builds a portfolio of 18 properties in just 5 years.
A random coin bought during a crypto boom turns into a 10x return.
A friend exits the stock market just before a crash, perfectly timed.
And then there's us. Sitting on the couch, scrolling through, wondering...
“Why not me?”
I’ve noticed this even more lately, especially in conversations at home.
My wife, Jane, often talks about those extremes too. Not out of envy — but sometimes from a place of longing.
"How do some people have self-motivated kids who top every test?”
"How do some families just know when to buy and sell?”
"How do some lives look so easy?”
On the surface, these sound like innocent reflections — maybe even admiration. But underneath, I sensed something deeper: a history, a weight.
And then it hit me: we are trained to see only the outliers.
We don’t see the quiet victories.
The daily grind.
The personal wars people have fought just to have something resembling a normal life.
Flashback: A Bench, A Punch, And A Fight For Life
Let me take you back. Jane was 5.
A playful punch from a neighbourhood kid. Nothing intentional. But that moment nearly ended her life.
No one knew the seriousness at first. She was sent home from a local hospital. No answers. Just worry.
Her mother, frantic and helpless, carried her from one hospital to another until finally — a military-style hospital agreed to try.
No guarantees.
Only hope.
They performed emergency surgery.
A month later, the pain returned. Another surgery.
This time?
Without anaesthetic.
Let that sink in.
A 5-year-old child, lying on a table, conscious — as surgeons worked on her.
Her mother fainted outside the room, unable to bear her daughter’s screams.
But Jane made it through.
That moment, that pain, etched something in her soul. In her memory. In her view of the world.
A Life of Scar Tissue and Strength
Decades later, in Australia, we found ourselves back in emergency rooms. This time, it was me sitting outside the theatre.
Whipple’s Procedure.
Pancreatitis.
An operation that started at 6:30 AM and went through till evening.
More than 30 stones removed.
When I saw her afterward, she was surrounded by tubes. Weak, barely able to speak — she asked for water. The nurse denied her request. All she was allowed was moisture dabbed from a cotton bud.
And yet, she didn’t complain.
She never does.
Most people see us as just another family, doing everyday things. Kids, school runs, work, dinner.
But buried under all that “normal” is a mountain of resilience.
The Real Psychology of Money
Growing up, food was restricted. So was comfort. Her family was lower-middle class, and life was all about surviving.
When your early years are shaped by deprivation, your relationship with money changes.
You either become overly cautious…
Or you believe only in extreme possibilities.
It makes sense now — why headlines of massive windfalls capture her so deeply.
Why the talk at home sometimes orbits those edge-case stories.
Because the opposite of deprivation isn’t comfort — it’s abundance.
And when you’ve never had it, you can’t help but wonder what it feels like to swing to the other end.
Morgan Housel Had It Right
"Luck and risk are siblings. You can’t understand one without respecting the other."
— Morgan Housel, The Psychology of Money
The stories we hear — of great success or devastating failure — are rare. But they are amplified.
We measure ourselves against these loud outliers.
But what about the silent majority? The people quietly showing up? Who are making steady progress, healing old wounds, building safety nets, one decision at a time?
That’s where real money stories live. Not in extremes. But in consistency, effort, and awareness of risk.
What This Taught Me
Everyone you know is fighting a silent battle — with their health, their past, or their beliefs around money.
Some carry scars you’ll never see. And some are still healing from wounds they got as kids.
So when we talk about financial independence, or FIRE, or investments — remember:
Not everyone starts from the same place.
Some of us carry fear when making money decisions.
Some need healing before they can start planning.
And some need to stop comparing their middle to someone else’s headline ending.
Let Me Leave You With This
Every time you find yourself saying “they got lucky”, ask:
“What risks did they take? What support did they have? What didn’t I see?”
And every time you think “I’ve failed”, ask:
“What have I endured that others never had to?”
Because luck and risk are not opposite ends of a spectrum — they walk hand-in-hand.
And real financial wellbeing?
It doesn’t begin with numbers.
It begins with understanding yourself.