Hello friend,
Why you’re getting this: This is my Friends Newsletter; part confession booth, part therapy log, part unsolicited founder advice. I write it for people I admire (and also for myself). Unsubscribe if I start sounding like a guy who meditates in a Patagonia vest.
Here’s what I’m thinking about…
At some point in the last decade, I passed a number.
A number I thought would make me chill.
Relaxed.
Settled.
Peaceful.
Done.
It didn’t.
Instead, I hit that number, looked around, and thought:
“Cool. Now what?”
And then I refreshed my inbox.
And stared at the ceiling.
And lay awake at 3:27am; heart racing, stomach in knots, mind buzzing with non-problems.
I had everything I ever wanted.
And I was still… anxious.
A friend of mine once said:
“Money is just Europe for your anxiety. You’re still you; just in Europe.”
I’ve never forgotten that.
Money amplifies what’s already there.
If you’re chill, it’ll buy you a sauna.
If you’re curious, it’ll fund your hobbies.
If you’re anxious?
Congratulations.
You now get to be anxious on a private jet.
Here’s what anxiety looked like for me:
Objectively, life was great.
But my brain didn’t care.
It was running Windows 95 on a power grid designed for lightning strikes.
Because I didn’t want meds.
Oh no.
That would mean admitting I was broken.
That I couldn’t “optimize” my way out of it.
So I tried:
All of it helped. A little.
But nothing fixed it.
One day, I cracked.
I had another sleepless night, another spiraling thought loop, another “what if this never ends?” moment.
So I did the unthinkable.
I went to a doctor.
He asked me a few questions.
Nodded.
Suggested I try a very low dose of an SSRI called vortioxetine.
I resisted.
Googled side effects.
Read Reddit threads full of fear.
Then I popped the pill.
And one morning a few weeks later, I realized something wild:
I felt… normal.
Not high.
Not numb.
Not euphoric.
Just… still.
For the first time in my adult life, my mind wasn’t in DEFCON 2.
I’ve described anxiety as a mind like Times Square at night.
All flashing lights, honking horns, hustlers, chaos.
The SSRI?
It didn’t turn it off.
It just turned it into a quiet library.
The noise was still there; but in the background.
I could think.
Focus.
Sleep.
I didn’t feel “blunted.”
I felt cleared.
Getting rich makes you less likely to seek help.
Because:
So you hide it.
You tell yourself you’re just stressed.
You try to buy your way out.
New house. New gadget. New therapist.
But money doesn’t rewrite your brain chemistry.
Sometimes, only medicine can.
Here’s what made a real difference:
I used to believe that once I hit [insert milestone], I’d finally relax.
The perfect exit.
The perfect portfolio.
The perfect schedule.
That belief cost me years.
Because no amount of money will quiet a brain wired for noise.
But a tiny little pill did.
Yes, I’m still building.
Still writing.
Still chasing problems.
But now I’m doing it from a calmer place.
If you’re feeling like your brain’s trying to kill you; even though life looks perfect on paper; please talk to someone.
This isn’t a badge of shame.
It’s your brain asking for help.
1. Do SSRIs actually work?
For many, yes. For me, 100%. Not instant—but life-changing.
2. Did you lose your “edge”?
Nope. Just my night sweats and irrational dread.
3. Aren’t you scared to talk about this publicly?
I used to be. Now I’m more scared not to.
4. Did therapy help?
Yes—but only when paired with the meds. Together = magic.
5. Will this fix my anxiety?
No guarantees. Everyone’s different. But it's worth exploring with a doctor.
6. How long before it worked?
3–4 weeks. Like fog slowly lifting.
7. Did anyone notice?
Yes. My wife. My team. My sleep tracker.
8. Is this forever?
Maybe. Maybe not. I’m okay with either.
9. How do you talk to friends about this?
Honestly. I just say: “It helped me. It might help you.”
10. What’s the one thing you wish someone had told you earlier?
Your anxiety isn’t a character flaw. It’s a chemistry problem. And you don’t have to suffer to succeed.
That’s all for now…
Money won’t fix your anxiety.
But courage might.
Get Your Copy of Never Enough at https://www.neverenough.com
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