The 10 Things I Stopped Doing in My 40s That Made Me Richer in Every Way

A list for the women who are done shrinking themselves to be palatable, available, and easy to manage

Chile.

There is a specific kind of freedom that hits in your 40s. It's not the freedom your 20s self imagined — wild and reckless and 'I'm gonna travel the world.' It's quieter than that. It's the freedom of finally not caring.

Not in a cold way. In a clear way. Clear about who you are. Clear about what you have time for. Clear about what is no longer worth a single ounce of your peace.

I have been keeping a running list of things I just don't do anymore. Habits, behaviors, apologies, performances. The things that quietly took from me for years until one day I looked up and decided, no more. Today I'm sharing the list.

And before you ask — yes, every single one of these has made me richer. Not always in money. But in time, in energy, in peace, in the kind of currency that actually compounds.

1. Over-explaining my decisions

If I'm not going to the thing, I'm not going. If I'm not interested in the opportunity, I'm not interested. If I'm leaving the conversation, I'm leaving.

I used to write paragraphs. 'I would love to but I have this thing, and then this other thing, and my schedule has been crazy, and I'm so sorry, maybe next time…' That's a performance. And it's not even a good one because the person on the other end already knew you weren't coming.

Now I say no. Or I say I'm not available. Or I just don't go. The grown-woman sentence is 'that's not going to work for me' with a period at the end. No paragraph required.

2. Apologizing for taking up space

I used to apologize when somebody bumped into me in the grocery store. When my food took longer than my friend's. When I asked the waiter for water. When I needed something at work. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. Like I was somehow an inconvenience just by existing.

Now? My 'sorry' is reserved for actual mistakes. Asking for what I paid for is not a mistake. Existing in a public space is not a mistake. Having needs is not a mistake.

If you saw me ten years ago you would not believe how often I used to apologize for nothing. I had to actively unlearn that one.

3. Showing up for one-sided friendships

There were friends I'd been holding onto out of pure history. We'd been close in our 20s, in our 30s, in some other version of life. But somewhere along the way, the give-and-take stopped being mutual. I was always the one calling. Always the one remembering the birthday. Always the one driving over.

And when I'd go through something hard? Crickets.

I'm not mad at those women. People drift. Seasons change. But I stopped doing the work of holding together a friendship that was clearly only mine to hold. Now my circle is smaller, but every single one of them would show up for me at 2am. That's the trade.

4. Drinking when I didn't want to

I never had a problem with alcohol. I just had a problem with feeling like I had to drink because everybody else was. The brunches. The 'celebrations.' The 'oh come on, just one.'

Now I order what I actually want. Sometimes that's a glass of wine. Often it's a sparkling water with lime. Nobody is paying enough attention to me to actually care, and the ones who push hardest were never my people anyway.

That awkward beat after you say 'no thanks' the first time? It passes in like four seconds. Sit in those four seconds. They're free.

5. Performing 'busy'

I used to wear 'I'm so busy' like a badge. Like being exhausted was somehow proof that I was important.

Then one day I caught myself saying it to a friend who was going through it. She'd lost her job. And there I was making my schedule about me. I felt sick about it.

Now if someone asks how I'm doing, I say I'm good. Or I'm tired. Or I'm having a great week. Whatever is true. 'Busy' is not a personality trait. Most of us are busy. That's not the part worth leading with.

6. Buying things to fix moods

Bad day. Open Amazon. Bad week. Open Target. Stress. Open Shein. The cycle was almost automatic.

In my 40s I started actually noticing what I was doing. The cart wasn't the problem. The cart was the symptom. I was bored, or anxious, or avoiding something I needed to handle. Buying stuff was just easier than sitting with the feeling.

Now when I feel that urge, I put my phone down and ask myself one question. What am I avoiding right now? Sometimes the answer is a hard conversation. Sometimes it's a workout I didn't do. Sometimes it's just plain old loneliness. Whatever it is, no Target run was ever going to fix it.

7. Talking myself out of things I could afford

Okay this one is the opposite of the last one and I need both to be true. I stopped buying junk I didn't need. AND I stopped talking myself out of things I actually wanted that I could comfortably afford.

The flowers for my own house. The nicer hotel. The good steak. The salon appointment instead of the strip mall. These are not extravagances. These are quality-of-life decisions, and the version of me that would have spent the same amount of money on six little impulse buys at TJMaxx has no leg to stand on judging the version that bought herself one nice thing.

Rich is not refusing to spend. Rich is spending on what genuinely makes your life better.

8. Waiting for permission

I have written about this one before but I'll write about it forever. I stopped waiting for the group chat to confirm. I stopped waiting for the right partner to take the trip. I stopped waiting for the 'right time' for the career move.

In my 40s I learned that 'the right time' is a story we tell ourselves so we can keep our excuse for not living. The right time is now. The right partner for the dinner is yourself. The right group for the trip is one — you.

Go. Just go. That is living…Rich Out Loud.

9. Engaging with disrespect

There is a kind of person — and they come in all flavors, family, coworker, friend, partner — who will say something subtly disrespectful and then watch your face to see how you take it. The little jab. The 'just joking.' The backhanded compliment.

Twenty-something me would have laughed it off. Thirty-something me would have stewed about it for days. Forty-something me just doesn't engage. I don't laugh. I don't argue. I don't explain why it was disrespectful. I just look at them with a flat face and let the comment hang in the air.

It is wildly effective. People know exactly what they said and exactly what they meant by it. The silence makes them confront it themselves.

10. Treating my body like it owed me something

My body has carried me through every chapter of my life. It has worked overtime, gone short on sleep, eaten on the fly, sat at desks for years, traveled, recovered, kept going.

And what I used to give it in return was a list of complaints. Why am I not smaller. Why am I tired again. Why does this part hurt.

In my 40s I started saying thank you. Out loud sometimes. Thank you for getting me here. Thank you for waking up again. Thank you for letting me dance at the wedding even when my knees said otherwise.

Now I move because I love her, not because I'm punishing her. I eat to nourish her, not to shrink her. I sleep because she earned it. The whole relationship changed when I stopped acting like she was the enemy.

The Rich Out Loud truth

Nothing on this list cost me money. Most of it actually saved me money. All of it gave me back time, energy, and peace I didn't know I'd been hemorrhaging for years.

The rich life I talk about all the time — it's not the trips and the dinners and the shopping, even though I love those too. It's this. The quiet decisions you make when nobody's watching. The things you stop doing because you've finally decided you deserve better than the version of life where you were small and apologetic and waiting on permission.

Your 40s are not the beginning of the end. They are the beginning of the part where you stop performing and start living.

Make your own list. Add to it as you go. Watch what happens.

Now go live your richest life and we’ll chat soon. 💋