Since I decided in December that I no longer wanted to work for startups where the culture felt like a situationship — or one of those relationships many of us have had with a narcissist — where you're expected to give everything in return for the bare minimum (or nothing at all), I had to review my relationship with work and finances.

I have ADHD, and like binge eating — which is very common for many people with ADHD — impulsive spending has also been part of my story. It’s not that I spend a lot (thankfully I’m responsible), but also, for anyone living in a country like mine — which I love, but let’s face it, Portugal is not necessarily kind to the Portuguese — saving money here is not for the weak. Unless you come from privilege (which I do in many ways, just not financially), it’s tough.

With the vet expenses for our beloved Chester (who passed away this year after six months of many vet visits), living off my savings, and having to face my fears around uncertainty and scarcity — and why I kept going from startup to startup to once again deal with people who didn’t value me, made me question my worth, and made me feel like I was not enough — I have to say: it’s been some scary months. But also the most rewarding. Because for the first time, I didn’t have a rail to hold on to. I had to face myself — the parts of me I was so scared to look in the eye.

Last week, I started reading Kingdom of the Wicked. One thing I deeply believe is that we can find pieces of ourselves or things that click anywhere, as long as it aligns with the lessons we’re meant to learn. Coming from an academic family, I was taught that learning is only “acceptable” if it’s “serious” (whatever that means) or happens in a certain way. But hello — I have ADHD, and I’m living proof that there are so many ways to learn, be, and see the world.

This thought made me question my relationship with money. Because the reality is: what keeps our economy and society moving is the belief in scarcity. And that belief infiltrates every part of our lives.

Yesterday, I realized: scarcity is something the rich and the poor actually have in common (stay with me). When we don’t have money, we feel unworthy of it, cultivating fear and a mindset of lack. When people have more than enough, they often still feel it’s not enough, and live in fear of losing it all. In both extremes, the core belief is: I’m not worthy as I am.

Not having and feeling shame for it is not that far from having it all and fearing its loss. Both stem from a feeling of not being enough. And that made me realize: most “sins” come from a sense of unworthiness. Eating too much or too little. Training too much or not at all. Working non-stop. These extremes, both sides, often come from the same root: “I’m not enough. I’m lacking. I have to prove my worth to be here.”

Which, when you really think about it — is completely ridiculous.

Our parents’ generation (and the ones before them) passed down this feeling of lack because they carried it too. The reason confident people feel grounded is because they’ve accepted all parts of themselves: the light, the shadow, the mistakes, the imperfections. That’s what allows them to be present. Because when we accept ourselves as already enough — and trust that God / Universe / Nature / Source has us exactly where we’re meant to be — we become present.

The need for control comes from the belief that if we don’t see what’s ahead, we’ll fail or suffer. But the world has made pain something to be ashamed of. What if pain is actually one of our greatest blessings? What if our imperfections — and the beauty that rises from them — are exactly the point?

What if love and connection aren't things we earn through worthiness — but birthrights we carry just by being alive, in whatever way God / Universe / Nature / Source intended?

And I truly believe: that same source lives inside of us. The old narrative told us we needed something external to save us. But if God / Universe / Nature / Source is everything — it is also within us. It is us. And we are all.

So… separation is an illusion. More and more, I want to become aware of that. The idea of “right” or “wrong” dissolves when we come back to intention. Even the worst moments eventually lead to something beautiful — even if we can’t see it right away. That’s what being human is, I think. Taking a leap of faith. Trusting that we don’t need to see to believe. We need to embody to see it.

So, if this week you felt like you aren’t enough — let’s do this together:

Let’s ask why.

Why do we believe that?

Even if someone made us feel that way once — why did we keep believing it?

Why can’t we, right now — regardless of what’s happening outside of us — choose to believe that we are enough?

If you need someone to talk to, or just want to share what you're feeling, I’m always happy to exchange emails or hold space for you. I'm also relearning what it means to simply be, and reshaping my beliefs alongside you.

Wishing you an amazing week,

Francisca 💜