What I learned losing $15k in a single day

They say money can’t buy happiness. I figured that’s just what poor people told themselves to feel better about their wretched lives. But if it’s true, then losing money shouldn’t cause unhappiness, right?

First, a few disclaimers:

I didn’t lose the money at gunpoint.

I didn’t lose the money during a gambling bender.

I didn’t lose the money on some sexy angel investment gone wrong.

I didn’t lose the money falling for a Tai-Lopez-flavored-get-rich-quick scheme.

I didn’t even lose the money to that Nigerian prince claiming to be in a real pickle.

No doubt, each would make for a riveting novel but I’m no fiction writer so I’m limited by the guardrails of reality. Which may make this less entertaining but more relatable. Let’s see.

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A few weeks ago, I accidentally lost $15,000 in a single day. That may not sound like a lot, but when it’s all you got, it is.

So how did I lose the money?

Ah… Well… Ya see…

Ok, I’ll admit something I’ve never shared with a soul. I’m a closet crypto bro.

I can practically hear your jeers and see your sneers as you whisper, “Serves you right, you idiot!”

Perhaps. But I wasn’t a meme coin buffoon desperate to hit the crypto jackpot.

Quite the opposite in fact.

I did my homework, and although I knew crypto was risky, I still had a lick of sense. Only buying the two most legitimate ones — Bitcoin + Ethereum. Dollar cost averaging my way in to avoid ruin. Even going as far as getting a crypto hardware wallet (USB drive looking thingy) to securely store my riches.

I considered myself a fiscally responsible crypto bro which sounds like an oxymoron.

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So where did I go wrong?

It was a crisp Friday morning in October when my financial situation got flipped on its head.

Fridays are the undisputed best day of the week. This was not one of them.

Tim Ferriss and Naval Ravikant were in my earbuds while I was walking my dog Xena waiting for her to do her business. They got to talking about crypto which made me think, “Hm, I should probably check my balance to see if it’s time to submit my resignation letter.”

I attempted to open my app but I’d been logged out.

No problem.

I just need to reconnect my wallet. And I know exactly where it is. Or so I thought…

Fast forward five hours of furiously searching every nook and cranny of my 800 square foot apartment. No luck.

Yes problem.

I felt like a junkie, drenched in a cold sweat, who could’ve sworn they knew where that last baggie of smack was hiding.

My apartment was a mess. My emotions were worse.

How could I be so careless? Did I accidentally throw it out during one of my notorious Marie-Kondo-style closet cleanses?

The grieving process was in full force.

It felt like I’d lost a loved one. No, it felt like I’d driven straight into a brick wall at 100 miles per hour, murdering everyone I cared about and I was the lone survivor. Something I’d have to live with for the rest of my days.

I was terrified to break the news to my wife when she got home from work. To my surprise, she wasn’t mad. Just disappointed. Which is waaaaaay worse.

After several sleepless nights, it was official: losing money definitely causes unhappiness.

Yet I couldn’t help but wonder if there was some other lesson to be had from this cosmic kick to the nuts?

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Then this bumper sticker wisdom hit me: Net worth ≠ Self worth.

It’s one of those trite lines that I’d heard dozens of times but had somehow managed to effortlessly flow in one ear and out the other.

As a man, so much of my self worth was directly tied to my net worth. Pathetic but true.

Which is strange because net worth, wealth, money (call it what you like) isn’t nearly as cool as it once was. Gone are the days where we could gleefully do back strokes through our piles of money like Scrooge Mcduck.

Now it’s just a number on a screen. But still, the ebbs and flows of that silly little number had so much power over me.

Number up? Bliss.

Number down? Bitter.

Finally, I was forced to recall my all time favorite Naval tweet: A fit body, a calm mind, a house full of love. These things cannot be bought, they must be earned.

Dammit Naval, you’re right again.

It didn’t matter if I lost $15k or $15m on that fateful Friday. No amount of money would buy me the things money cannot buy.

I still had a (relatively) fit body.

I still had a (messy) house full of love.

Calm mind? Well, not exactly. But I knew it was possible to reclaim.

So I guess I was wrong. Losing money doesn’t automatically cause unhappiness. But the story we tell ourselves about it can.

PS — The best part about lost money is that it can be found. Which my wife was able to do after searching for approximately 2.8 seconds…

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