Mental Wealth Is a Practice, Not a Destination

Life can be incredibly hard sometimes — unfair, painful, and for some people far more so than for others. Is that fair? No. And it’s also something we often have little to no control over.

At the same time, life can be breathtakingly beautiful. I consider myself lucky in that sense, because my neurodivergence allows me to experience moments with great intensity. Yes, that means I can hurt deeply — but it also means I can heal and enjoy deeply, too. I can take in a situation with all my senses and feel genuine awe for the beauty that exists alongside the pain.

Do I still carry trauma with me? Of course. Some of it still shows up from time to time — reminders that certain experiences haven’t simply disappeared and may take a lifetime to process. But alongside those wounds, there is also a vast inner richness made up of moments of connection, safety, joy, and meaning.

And while I cannot choose what has happened to me, I can influence what I give my attention to — again and again. Not perfectly. Not all the time. But often enough to make a difference.

This is where the idea of mental wealth begins to matter.

Your brain is wired for survival — not happiness

If you know a little about psychology and neuroscience, you’ll be aware that the human brain’s primary task is not happiness, fulfillment, or inner peace. Its first and most important job is to keep us safe. Which, from an evolutionary perspective, makes perfect sense.

But this also means our brains are constantly scanning for potential threats — even when we’re objectively doing fine. Without conscious training, one negative experience can easily outweigh ten positive ones. This phenomenon is known as the negativity bias.

A simple example: imagine sitting in a room with ten puppies and one cobra. (Yes, it sounds like the beginning of a joke — bear with me.) Even if the puppies are playful, harmless, and adorable, your attention will almost certainly lock onto the cobra. Not because you’re pessimistic or dramatic, but because your nervous system is prioritising survival.

This bias helped our ancestors stay alive. It was essential. But in modern life, it often means that small setbacks, critical comments, or moments of discomfort stick with us far longer than moments of joy, safety, or success — simply because our brains are wired that way.

The good thing here to keep in mind is: You are not broken for experiencing this. You are human.

Why “just be positive” doesn’t work

This is also the reason why advice like “just focus on the good”, “be grateful and move on”, “others have it worse”, or “just think positive” is often not only unhelpful — but actively counterproductive.

From a psychological perspective, suppressing or bypassing difficult emotions doesn’t make them disappear. It simply pushes them out of conscious awareness — where they continue to influence our stress levels, reactions, and sense of safety in the background.

This is why knowledge and tools around mindfulness and emotional awareness are so important. Not because they promise constant calm or happiness — but because they teach us how to stay present with reality as it is, without adding unnecessary suffering on top of what already hurts. Mindfulness is not about denying pain. It’s about meeting experience with honesty and compassion.

And acknowledging hardship does not make you pessimistic. Avoiding pain does not make you resilient.

Mental wealth is not built through denial. It is built through awareness.

Mental wealth is a practice, not a destination

This is where many of us get stuck. We often treat well-being as something we’ll earn after we’ve healed, processed everything, or finally reached a stable chapter in life. As if peace, joy, or meaning are rewards waiting for us at the end of suffering. Some even think you are either born with it or not.

But psychology tells a different story.

Mental wealth is not something you are born with or you arrive at one day and then get to keep forever. It is a practice — shaped by what you repeatedly notice, allow, and respond to over time.

Thanks to neuroplasticity, our brains are constantly shaped by experience. That’s genuinely good news. It means change is possible at any age — not through force, but through repetition. At the same time, it also means that mental well-being isn’t passive. Just like physical health, it requires care, practice, and consistency. What we repeatedly practise — whether consciously or unconsciously — gets strengthened over time.

Attention, in this context, is not neutral. It is a limited and powerful resource. Where we place it, again and again, quietly trains the mind we live in. This doesn’t mean we can simply “think our way out” of trauma or hardship. Choice always exists within constraints. Some days, the only choice available is a very small one. But even small moments matter.

Noticing a sense of safety in your body, even briefly. Allowing yourself to enjoy a moment without guilt. Letting something good count — without immediately minimising it.

Mental wealth grows in these micro-moments, alongside the hard ones.

Living with scars — and richness

Mental wealth doesn’t mean we're healed. It doesn’t mean our past no longer affects us, or that difficult days don’t exist. It means we have learned how to live with what shaped us — without letting it erase everything else.

We can hold grief and gratitude at the same time. W can acknowledge pain without letting it define our entire inner landscape. We can build a sense of meaning even while parts of our story are still unfinished.

So no, mental wealth isn’t about forcing optimism. It’s about allowing complexity.

You don’t have to wait for life to be easier

If there’s one thing I want you to take away from this, it’s this: You don’t have to wait until life is calm, healed, or resolved to start building mental wealth. You are allowed to collect moments of beauty now. You are allowed to feel joy without betraying your pain. You are allowed to practice presence, even in imperfect conditions.

Mental wealth doesn’t start after hardship. It starts alongside it.

And sometimes, that’s the most radical act of care there is.