You’re Going To Be Fine

Some thoughts on money, meaning, coffee and comparison culture. My uncle has a saying: “You can have anything you want; you just can’t have everything.” Who knew four pints could yield such profundity? One of the defining characteristics of contemporary life is the illusion that we should somehow be able to optimise every aspect of it simultaneously.

Today is, apparently, the last day of Mental Health Awareness Week. So, if there is a week to talk honestly about feeling anxious, overwhelmed, depressed or just demotivated to do the dishes, it may as well be this one. Everyone will wonder, from time to time, what’s the point? Especially in 2026. Here we all are trying to build stable, meaningful lives against a backdrop of constant crisis. There’s a war going on. Which one? Take your pick. The planet is overheating. Rent is soaring.

Spend enough time with someone, even someone you love, and they’ll annoy you. Whether it’s your spouse, sibling or parent, there’s always a chance of an argument. Not necessarily because you want one, but because proximity naturally creates friction. Human beings are full of bad habits, blind spots and prone to sudden mood swings. Like many men, I often joke that my wife is, operationally speaking, my manager. Though, if I’m honest, there’s an uncomfortable truth behind the gag.

The pressure to procreate is loud and intrusive. That you’ll have kids is assumed and even incentivised. It shows up in small talk, in tax codes, in the way conversations tilt as you move through your late twenties and thirties. But what if you can’t have them? What if you don’t want them? As ever with this Substack, for anyone who needs to hear it, all routes are valid. Thanks for reading You’re going to be fine! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Have you ever seen the film, The Northman? I’m fairly certain that bench presses, protein shakes, kettlebells and cryotherapy did not exist in the 10th Century. And yet, there’s Alexander Skarsgård, shirtless for what feels like half the film’s runtime, looking less like a weathered Viking warlord and more like he’s about to win his age group at HYROX.

I think it’s weird that we ask children what they want to be when they grow up. It sounds like an innocent question, but really it plants the idea that their whole life should hinge on a single choice made long before they’re equipped to make it. In truth, most childhood dreams don’t survive contact with reality. Even for those who do end up where they once hoped — the footballers, the musicians, the doctors — the shine often dulls once adulthood kicks in.

Friends are the family you choose, and who your friends are will be some of the most important decisions you make in your life. Like romantic relationships, friendships aren’t immune to arguments; some will even end. But there’s a key difference: friendships don’t usually come with the same pressure to find The One. There’s joy in the plurality of friendship. Different friends can take up different roles at different times.

For a long time, adulthood feels theoretical. It’s something you read about and talk around. You might be over 18, over 30, or even 40, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you feel like a grown-up. You can pay your taxes, pay your bills, or buy bin bags with drawstrings. But there’s usually still this lingering sense that you’re just pretending. And if things get too hard or too heavy, someone else, i.e. a grown-up, will step in and sort them out for you.

Modern life is characterised by volatile markets, impossible deposits and interest rates doing parkour. The whole conversation around homeownership seems obsessed with numbers — yield, equity, I don’t know — as if building a life were the same as building a portfolio. And as so many of us chase an ideal that circumstances have forced us to compromise on, we end up punishing ourselves for struggling.