I want a billion $dollars!
That’s what I screamed at 12 when my uncle asked what I wanted for my birthday.
Looking back—now that I’m almost 30 and paying rent while playing cyberpunk 2077 to cope with how fucked up the economy is now it’s my turn to be an adult—I see just how ridiculous that sounded.
Even though I wanted a billion dollars, I wasn’t ready to receive it.
Not just because I was 12 and clueless about what a billion even meant.
Not because I didn’t understand what it would take to earn it, hold it, or keep from blowing it all on snacks and PS2 games.
And not because my uncle didn’t have it (which, let’s be honest, he didn’t).
The clearest proof I wasn’t ready was the fact that I didn’t even have a fucking bank account.
So even if, by some act of divine madness, he had dropped that billion on me… where would it have gone?
Nowhere.
(I still joke that he owes me that billi, by the way.)
Now, when it comes to love—and I mean real, grown-ass, soul-aligning love—I see people do the exact same thing I did at 12.
They say they want love.
They even believe it.
They fantasise about it.
They speak affirmations.
They pray.
They write lists.
They repost Instagram reels and “God, when?” TikTok videos.
But emotionally, they don’t even have a bank account to hold it.
They’re still tangled in emotional patterns they haven’t faced.
Still wounded from exes they “got over” but never healed from.
Still acting like love is this magical event that shows up when “the time is right.”
They’re unhealed, stuck in trauma loops, or cosplaying as adults while operating with the romantic maturity of a teenager.
And the most common disguise for this emotional unreadiness I see often is the “I’m just waiting for the right time.” mantra.
I hear it from friends, family members and even clients during our 20-minute coaching sessions, and it just tells me that they’re avoiding the work that readiness demands.
You can’t want something and not make room to receive it.
If you want a car, you clear a space to park it.
If you want new furniture, you move the old shit out to make room for the new one.
And if you want love, you better have a foundation strong enough to hold it, or it’ll collapse the second it arrives.
Believing you're ready when you're not is like baking a wedding cake with no flour.
It looks good outside, but it collapses the second someone touches it.
So let me make this plain…
You’re ready for love when:
You’ve stopped outsourcing healing to “time” and actively done the work to address your emotional past.
You’ve built your filter. This means that you’re clear on your wants, needs, boundaries, and the kind of life you’re creating and it’s so fucking clear that even lust can’t lie its way past it.
You’re entering a relationship for the right reasons—rooted in clarity of purpose and your future, not loneliness, boredom, horniness or vibes.
You enjoy your single life. Because if you’re miserable alone, you’ll be even worse with someone else.
You’ve gotten your shit together “adult wise”. This means that you have a steady income, you’re mentally and emotionally mature, and you’ve gotten your basic hygiene down (I’ve met some nasty adults across both genders).
You’ve grown into the kind of person you’d actually want to date because you know what you bring to the table, and won’t hesitate to walk away from anything that disturbs your peace, even if it’s cute, consistent, and good in bed.
This isn’t perfection. It’s preparation.
And if reading this just hit you in the chest like, “Yeah… I’ve been saying I want love, but I’m not really ready to hold it,” then that’s the moment everything changes.
Because the thing keeping you stuck isn’t your standards.
It’s your pattern.
So, grab the Pattern Diagnosis Cheat Sheet for $10. It will help you walk through exactly how to interrupt that pattern in real time, before it spirals again.
You’ve already paid in peace, time, self-trust, and sleepless nights. $10 is nothing compared to the cost of staying stuck.
See you next Sunday