Rich Life Energy, Poor Kid Past: Why I’m Done Choosing Between Wealth and Purpose

New here? Welcome to Goodfluence—where ambition meets impact, and a glow-up never comes without giving a damn.

💰For the record, I want to be rich.

Like, own a pair of Louboutin’s / hire a cleaning service / make-a-big-donation-without-flinching kind of rich.

And before you roll your eyes—yeah, I said rich—I grew up poor.

Not "tight budget" poor. I mean:

• Food Stamps poor

• Pay-the-water-and-electric-bill-after-they-were-shut-off poor

• Started working at age 12, knocking on neighbors’ doors to do chores for cash poor

So, when I say I want a rich life now, I mean financially, yes. But I also mean emotionally, socially, and culturally rich. I want options. I want safety and fun. I want to tip big and nap unapologetically.

But I also want to do good—for real. I want to help kiddos, especially my 12 nieces and nephews under 18. Build community. Fix systems. Throw parties that double as fundraisers. Text my city councilmember and have them respond immediately.

And for too long, I thought I had to choose between:

• Doing good… or doing well.

• Being ambitious… or being "likable."

• Asking for what I’m worth… or being seen as difficult.

• Speaking boldly… or being told I’m too much.

Because when you’re a woman—especially one who grew up without a safety net—people don’t come out and say "stay small." Instead, they hand it to you like advice. Like caution. Like concern. Be nice. Be grateful. Don’t shine too bright. Don’t rock the boat.

But playing small doesn’t serve the world. And it definitely doesn’t pay the bills.

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🪞Where I Got It Twisted

When you grow up poor, ambition doesn’t just feel out of reach—it feels like something you’re not allowed to have. And if you do dare to be ambitious, people will look at you sideways, like: "Who do you think you are?"

When your whole world is about stretching $5, watching your mom cry over bills, or being told to just be "grateful," you learn to make yourself small. Not because wealth is shameful—but because it feels like it belongs to someone else.

The truth? Getting rich wasn’t just hard—it felt like something you weren’t allowed to want. Because the world around you—especially when you're poor—conditions you to believe that wanting more is dangerous. That you should stay in your lane. Keep your head down. Be grateful and quiet.

And if I’m honest, sometimes the people around you want to keep you thinking that way. Not out of malice, but out of fear. Fear that if you want too much, you’ll change. You’ll leave. You’ll forget where you came from.

Fck that. Fck those narratives.
Wanting a beautiful, abundant, free life doesn’t make you selfish. It makes you someone who survived and now dares to want more—for yourself and for others.

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🧠3 Things I Know for Sure:

1. Being underpaid doesn’t make you a better person
   It makes you exhausted and resentful.

2. You can glow up AND give back
   There’s room for ambition and altruism, fun and fundraising, cute outfits and climate justice.

3. Money in the hands of people like us? Revolutionary.
   We reinvest. We rebuild. We redistribute.
   We buy the groceries and the protest signs.

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📺 The Problem with Wealth on TV (and Why I’m Bored)

Even before I read this Atlantic article titled “Carrie Bradshaw Is Too Rich to Be Interesting,” I felt it in my soul: TV has become one big marble kitchen filled with emotionally flat, wildly wealthy people.

The gist: Shows like And Just Like That…, 9 Perfect Strangers, White Lotus Season 3, and Jesse Armstrong’s Mountainhead are so drenched in wealth that there’s nothing at stake anymore. No tension, no hustle, no emotional payoff. Just… people wandering around beautiful houses, whispering about betrayals we don’t care about, and lamenting renovations that cost more than our student loans.

🙄 Even Satire Isn’t Saving These Shows

Even if it’s satire (Mountainhead, I’m looking at you), it’s still boring. I loved Succession. But I don’t care about another tech bro in a cashmere hoodie whose entire personality is crypto and daddy issues.

These shows aren’t aspirational. They’re anesthetizing.

At least with The Gilded Age, we get the other side of the story. There’s depth. There’s the help. There’s struggle. And with Somebody Somewhere? That’s the show. Real people. Quiet heartbreaks. Messy joy. A plotline that doesn’t involve installing a koi pond in Tuscany.

Wealth without self-awareness is boring.
And wealth without purpose is a dead end.
That’s why I’m more interested in stories with purpose—on screen and in life. Give me grit. Give me meaning. Give me someone who knows how to love hard and show up even when the kitchen is rental-grade laminate.

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💚 What This Has to Do with Goodfluence

When I say I want a rich life, I don’t mean a marble kitchen and emotional stagnation.
I mean I want to feel rich in meaning, in impact, in connection. I want to give generously, live intentionally, and yes—buy the $42 candle because I freaking earned it.

But I don’t want to lose my edge. Or my curiosity. Or my community.

Because a rich life—a truly rich life—includes struggle, humor, mission, and meaning.

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What’s your version of a rich life? Tell me—what you want, what you’re done apologizing for, and what dream you’re finally owning.

And if this made you feel seen, share it with your favorite nonprofit baddie, overworked changemaker, or that one friend who cries in Trader Joe’s and dreams of Italy.

Subscribe, share, and come sit with me.
We’re building something generous, joyful, and unapologetically abundant.

With you,
Jenna