When Numbers Stop Running the Show

TL;DR: Somewhere in my 40s, I noticed I was becoming less interested in measuring everything—my age, my weight, my income, my progress, even my life online. Numbers are useful, but I’m learning that they don’t have to decide whether I’m doing enough.

Somewhere along the way, I realised how much of adulthood is spent counting.

My age.
My weight.
My calories.
My income.
My savings.

Then social media added a whole new scoreboard: views, likes, comments, followers.

For years, I let these numbers quietly tell me whether I was doing well enough.

But somewhere in my 40s, something shifted.

I’m not particularly interested in fighting my age or trying to make it stand still. I don’t want to spend the next few decades constantly checking whether I’m getting older “well enough.”

I’d rather just keep growing into my life and actually be here for it.

Maybe that’s what getting older is starting to mean to me.

Not trying to look or feel like I’m not ageing.

Not constantly checking where I am compared with everyone else.

Just growing, learning and being present while life is happening.

And that shift has changed the way I think about my body, too.

I stopped looking at the scale and worrying about the number on it.

That doesn’t mean I stopped caring about my health.

I still want to be healthy. I want to be able to walk, jump, travel, carry things, play with my kids and move through everyday life without my body feeling like a burden.

But I don’t want a number on a scale to decide whether I’ve had a “good” week.

The same thing happened with exercise.

I used to think I should exercise for a certain amount of time for it to count.

Twenty minutes.
Thirty minutes.
A proper workout.

Now, if I have ten minutes, I’ll move for ten minutes.

If I have more energy, I’ll do more.

If I’m tired, I don’t force it.

I’m learning to ask, What does my body have today? rather than What number am I supposed to achieve?

Ten minutes of movement is still movement.

It doesn’t need to become thirty minutes just to earn a tick.

I noticed the same pattern with money.

For a long time, it was easy to think that earning more would automatically make life better.

But more income can also mean more work, more pressure and less room for everything else.

Eventually, I stopped wanting to chase a bigger number at any cost.

Instead, I started looking at our finances differently.

How much do we actually need?

What can we plan for?
What can we simplify?
What systems can I put in place so predictable expenses don’t keep surprising me?

That led me to the kind of money system I wrote about in The Money System That Stays Out of My Way.

I’m not trying to become obsessed with having more.

I’m trying to make the money we have work quietly in the background, so I don’t have to spend so much mental energy worrying about it.

That feels like a much better use of my life.

Because what’s the point of constantly chasing a higher number if I’m too exhausted to enjoy what that number is supposed to give me?

And, perhaps inevitably, I started noticing the same thing when I began writing and sharing online.

Views.
Likes.
Followers.

The numbers are very easy to see.

They’re also very easy to attach meaning to.

A post with five likes can feel like a success.

A post with zero can make you wonder whether anyone cares.

I’ve experienced both.

And honestly, of course I’d love to know that someone is reading.

I’m human.

But I’m slowly learning that a number on a screen can’t tell me whether something I wrote mattered to someone.

Maybe someone read it and quietly recognised themselves in it.

Maybe it made someone laugh.

Maybe it gave them a different way of looking at an ordinary part of their life.

Maybe they read it and moved on.

I don’t need to know all of that.

What matters more to me now is connection rather than accumulation.

I’d rather have a handful of people who genuinely resonate with something I’ve written than chase numbers simply because the numbers are there.

I don’t think numbers are bad.

Numbers are useful.

They help us understand our finances, measure progress, plan ahead and make decisions.

The problem starts when we let them decide how we feel about ourselves.

I’m still learning this.

Some days I still notice the numbers.

I still look at the scale sometimes. I still notice how many people read something I wrote. I still think about whether we’re earning enough.

I’m not suddenly above all of it.

I’m just trying not to let those numbers become the scoreboard for my life.

In my 40s, I’m finding myself more interested in questions like:

Do I feel well?
Do I have enough energy for the people and things I care about?
Does our money support the life we’re trying to live?
Did something I made connect with another person?

Those questions don’t give me a neat number to chase.

And strangely, that’s beginning to feel like the point.

I’m not trying to stop getting older.

I’m not trying to stop caring about my health, money or the people who read what I write.

I’m just trying to stop turning every part of life into something I have to measure.

Maybe growing older isn’t about watching the numbers go up.

Maybe it’s about becoming more present in the life that’s happening while they do.

What if we spent a little less time keeping score, and a little more time actually being here?

With love & gratitude,

Thanks for being here. Simply Kysemi is a space where I’m practising a slower, more intentional pace. To keep things calm, I check my messages and comments only when I have the time. I truly appreciate your thoughts and will get back to you as soon as my schedule allows.