The Cost of Chasing More: A Financial Journey That Led Me Back to What Matters
By: Felix Diaz, P.Eng.
Growing Up in Maricaban
I grew up in Maricaban, Pasay City, in a small rented apartment that doubled as my father’s tailoring shop. My father was a tailor, my mother a dressmaker, and the sound of the sewing machine was part of my daily life. Every time the motor ran, our lights flickered — a detail I never forgot.
Despite the cramped space, I never felt poor. My parents made sure we ate on time, wore those 3‑for‑100‑peso clothes from Baclaran, and went to school. My sisters and I had a happy childhood. I spent my days playing outside with friends, making toys out of whatever was “uso” — sarangola, bottle caps, rubber bands, marbles. Life was simple, but it felt complete.
Realizing Our Reality
It wasn’t until high school that I understood our financial situation. For most of my childhood, we never had a home of our own. We were always renting, always adjusting. So when my father finally managed to get us a place, I thought life was changing. It was a house in the slums, a place where families like ours settled because they had no other option. We were squatters, and at any moment, the real landowner could ask us to leave.
Still, that small house became the closest thing we ever had to stability. And realizing how fragile it was made me want a better, more secure life — one I would spend years chasing.
The First Chase
After finishing school, I found a stable job. My first dream wasn’t luxury — it was a decent home. Because I grew up without one, owning a house became my priority. I took a mortgage even though the monthly payment was almost half my salary.
That’s when I realized something: poverty teaches you to want more, because you’ve had so little.
Being a technician wouldn’t be enough. I needed to earn more. So I studied again, worked harder, and pushed myself to climb. Before graduating, I was promoted. My salary doubled. I could breathe a little.
But breathing wasn’t enough. I wanted a car — something only “rich people” had when I was a kid. I bought a second-hand Lancer. I felt proud, but the combined cost of the mortgage and car loan tightened my life again.
And that pressure pushed me to chase more.
Chasing the Career Ladder
As my lifestyle improved, so did my expectations. I wanted nicer things, better things, and a more comfortable life. And to fund that lifestyle, I pushed myself harder in my profession.
I moved from company to company, from position to position, always chasing a higher salary. Every time I earned more, my lifestyle upgraded. And every time my lifestyle upgraded, I felt the pressure to earn even more.
I didn’t realize it then, but I was so focused on the next promotion, the next job offer, the next salary bump, that I stopped appreciating the journey. I forgot that the job itself — the engineering work I once dreamed of — was already the dream.
My drive wasn’t just passion. It was survival. It was ambition. It was the belief that earning more was the only way to secure a better life. And for many years, that mindset carried me forward.
But it also kept me chasing endlessly.
Working Abroad
I got an opportunity to work in South Korea as an engineer. In one year, I paid off my house. I bought a brand-new CR-V. We built a house on my mother-in-law’s land — one of the biggest in the area.
But again, the happiness faded. The cycle repeated. The chase continued.
After experiencing life in Korea, I wanted my kids to grow up in a country with better opportunities. Korea wasn’t realistic because of the language barrier. That led me to Canada.
Starting Over in Canada
Canada became another reset — another beginning I didn’t expect to repeat.
New country. New rules. New system. And once again, I found myself back at the bottom of the ladder.
From being an engineer in South Korea, I went back to being a technician. It felt like déjà vu: starting over again, proving myself again, chasing again. Every time I thought I had finally built stability, life pushed me back to square one and told me to climb again.
So I did what I always did — I chased.
I worked my way up. I took certifications. I earned licenses. I accepted every opportunity to move into a better role, a better title, a better pay grade. I bought a house. I got a better car. I landed a better job. And every step forward was driven by the same thing that fueled me since childhood:
“earn more so you can afford the lifestyle you keep upgrading”.
Eventually, I got my engineering credentials recognized and got back to engineering — the job I dreamed of as a child.
And again, I was happy. And again, it faded. And again, the chase continued.
The Realization at 45
Now I’m 45, and I’ve spent most of my life chasing “more.” Not because I was greedy — but because poverty taught me to believe that “more” was the only way to feel happy.
But the truth is simple: the chase never ends. Every achievement becomes normal. Every upgrade becomes the new baseline. Every dream, once reached, gets replaced by another.
People call it a midlife crisis. For me, it’s midlife clarity.
Finding Fulfillment in the Small Things
As I get older, I’m beginning to appreciate things that don’t require money:
walking with my kids in the park
having time to self-reflect
enjoying quiet moments
teaching my daughter math
my daughter pestering me for simple things — and me feeling that she needs me
holding my son, who has autism, and being present for his appointments
accompanying my wife to her appointments and meetings
cooking for my family
watching Netflix with my kids
joking with friends
having good conversations
These small things give me joy that doesn’t fade. They don’t become “normal.” They don’t need upgrading. They don’t need replacing.
They simply matter.
What Fulfillment Means to Me Now
I realized that being happy is not expensive. My peace of mind, my time with the people who matter, and the freedom to enjoy simple things after a long day at work — these have become my unlimited source of small happiness.
Not the house. Not the car. Not the salary. Not the country.
But the moments.
The same kind of moments that made my childhood full, even when we had nothing.
Closing Statement
I’m not saying we shouldn’t chase prosperity or better things. We all want progress. We all want comfort. We all want to give our families a life that’s safer, easier, and more secure than the one we grew up with. There’s nothing wrong with that.
But it’s easy to take for granted the things that truly matter while we’re busy chasing more. It’s easy to forget that our journey to success means nothing if the people we’re doing the hard work for aren’t happy — and happy with us along the way.
Time is funny like that. We work hard because we want money to buy time for our family… and then we end up spending all our time trying to make money.
In the end, I realized that life isn’t measured by how far I’ve climbed or how much I’ve collected. It’s measured by the moments I get to keep — the ones that don’t fade, don’t upgrade, and don’t expire.
I spent decades chasing the life I thought I needed. Now I’m learning to appreciate the life I already have.
And maybe real fulfillment isn’t about finally reaching “more.” Maybe it’s about finally understanding that “enough” was always right here — in the small moments, with the people who make the journey worth it.