Have you ever noticed what happens when you’ve been broke for a long time?
You struggle for months, sometimes years, wondering how you’re going to make it. You finally decide to start a business, hoping it will slowly change your life.
Then one day, your first customer pays you.
Suddenly, there’s a thousand shillings sitting in your account.
And almost immediately, your mind starts spending it.
“Maybe I should take my daughter out.”
“Maybe we should go for lunch.”
“Maybe we should go to the playground.”
It’s fascinating.
Nothing has really changed financially. The business is still brand new. The investment hasn’t even been recovered. I haven’t broken even. Yet somehow, seeing that little bit of money sitting there creates an urge to use it.
Today I sold one bath cloth.
I know there’s a thousand shillings in my business account.
And for a moment, I couldn’t stop thinking about spending it.
It wasn’t because I needed anything.
It was because, after going without for so long, having money almost makes you feel like you should immediately enjoy it.
Then something unexpected happened.
I came home.
Changed into my pyjamas.
Sat down.
And the thought of getting dressed again, driving somewhere, and spending the money suddenly felt like too much effort.
For once, my lack of energy worked in my favour.
It made me wonder how often we judge ourselves too quickly.
Someone else might look at me and call me lazy because I didn’t feel like leaving the house.
But what if that “laziness” served a purpose?
What if staying home helped me do something I haven’t always been good at?
Leave the money alone.
I’ve realised that what I’m really learning isn’t how to make money.
I’m learning how not to spend it.
Those are two completely different skills.
For the first time in my life, I have a separate business account.
Every payment from a customer goes there.
It stays there.
And every time I resist the temptation to transfer money into my personal account just because I want something in the moment, I feel like I’m building something much bigger than a business.
I’m building discipline.
I’ve spent most of my life thinking that financial success came from earning more.
Now I’m beginning to think it also comes from interfering less.
Let the money sit.
Let the business breathe.
Let it grow.
Not every shilling needs to become an outing, a meal, or a reward.
Sometimes the greatest reward is watching the account slowly grow, knowing you’ve left it alone.
It’s a strange feeling.
Peaceful, actually.
This business is still very small.
But today it taught me something I didn’t expect.
Sometimes growth isn’t about making more money.
Sometimes it’s about becoming the kind of person who no longer feels the need to spend it the moment it arrives.
I think I like this version of myself.
She’s slower.
She’s more patient.
And for the first time in a long time, she’s beginning to understand that wealth isn’t built in a day.
It’s built one decision at a time.