September 2021.

A dark blue Maserati purred outside Leeds train station.

My new boss stepped out, shook my hand, and welcomed me to what I thought would be my dream life as a dentist.

My excitement doubled when I caught two guys at the taxi rank staring with envy.

Immediately, my boss was my hero.

After my training year completed, we went for lunch.

Over Thai food, he leaned forward and asked the question that changed everything.

“How would you like to get rich?”

“Yes”, I blurted without hesitation.

I was a young, hungry guy with a point to prove.

He offered me a big contract. Plus, a second job as lead dentist at his brand-new cosmetic clinic.

He warned me it was hard work.

“No problem”, I told him, eager to impress.

Eager to kill it.

He was right.

I became one of the top earners for my age in the country. But my life? A blur of 6-7 day weeks. Up at 5:30am. Cosmetic clinic by 7.30. Main clinic by 9. Work till 5. Back to the second clinic for evening sessions. Fall into bed. Repeat.

My bank account grew.

But my life shrank.

Dentists have one of the highest suicide rates. I learned why.

24/7 on edge. Never present. Constant stress and anxiety (I even had several panic attacks, and I’m a calm dude).

ButI took pride in the suffering even as it tore me apart.

And then I began to think.

The beauty of pain is it forces you to wake up.

The early roar of ambition couldn’t drown out the voice getting louder in the back of my mind:

Something isn’t right here.

The penny dropped when my boss had bought a new house. One day, an 80-inch TV arrived at the clinic.

"He's so lucky," the nurses gushed.

I glimpsed my future. I didn’t give a crap about this stuff.

I realised I wanted something different.

I wanted freedom.

I wanted calm and creativity.

I wanted real purpose.

Looking back, I wanted that all along.

But I was so impressed by displays of wealth and status that I threw all consideration to the wind.

I wasn’t thinking clearly. Hell, I wasn’t thinking at all.

I was just living a script that society had perfected.

Don’t have money? Just hop on this conveyor belt (chopping board), and when you get rich, life will be great. Then you can tell everyone else how it’s ‘worth it’.

It’s the perfect trap.

It keeps you distracted and productive until you’re too tired to question, too committed to change.

The advice I’d give my former self

I don’t blame my boss. He was a good guy.

I don’t regret my choice because it led me here.

But I do wish I put myself first. The advice I wish I followed more? (even now)

Do what you want.

Not what you’re told to want.

Not what you’re doing out of fear.

Not what will impress the crowd.

Not what is more safe or secure.

[FIRST NAME GOES HERE], this isn’t easy.

In fact, it’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do.

We’ve built a system that punishes the outliers. That keeps you thinking small.

I’ve never been so scared as when I quit dentistry to start from scratch as a writer. It felt like I was throwing away a golden ticket.

But you don’t get what you want by giving in to fear.

That’s the game of life.

Choosing you.

And you don’t just play once.

It’s every day. Every decision.

Every choice is a challenge: will you follow the crowd or your curiosity?

I’m not suggesting you renounce money or status.

These are great tools for freedom.

But that’s all they are. Tools for life, not the point of it.

See the truth and you get to play to your own beat.

And that’s when you’ll make your best contribution.

That’s when you’ll come alive.

Think freely,

Kieran