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Live Rich, Not Busy
The kind “NO” that buys back breathing room and a life you can feel.

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Hi Friend,
We discuss money extensively here: earning it, growing it, and stewarding it with care. But Live Rich, Retire Rich was never meant to be a spreadsheet fan club. It’s about living rich now while you build wealth for later. The concept of 'Live Rich, Retire Rich' is about enjoying life to the fullest in the present, while also making smart financial decisions to ensure a comfortable retirement. To me, that looks like breathing room—an exhale in your calendar, enough headspace to notice the joke your kid tells or the idea that lands in the shower.
Setting boundaries doesn’t just create breathing room, it brings a sense of relief. It's not about being no. or dramatic, it's about being honest. The kind of 'no' that transforms a crowded life into a considered one, lightening the load and allowing you to breathe.

The compliment that becomes a tax
You’ve heard it: “Give it to a busy person.” It sounds like praise; it functions like a transfer. Work flows to the reliable. In offices, this looks like the capable teammate asked—again—to run the meeting, fix the deck, soothe the client, and onboard the new hire. At home, it’s the default planner. The person who keeps birthdays on the calendar, orders the presents, writes the thank-you notes, and studies the school portal like a second job. None of this is villainy. It’s a habit. But habit becomes identity, and identity becomes a calendar you didn’t choose.
The visible cost is time. The invisible cost is the mental load: all the follow-through that lingers after you say yes—the reminders, the coordinating, the background buzz that says, “Don’t forget.” Mental load erodes patience, steals sleep, and blurs the edges of your best ideas. You can’t see it on a spreadsheet, but you feel it when the smallest request tips your day.
Living rich means recognizing the mental load and making different choices.

A time I remember from my corporate days
I vividly remember a time I agreed to “glance” at a playbook before a roadshow. You know how this movie goes. A glance became a rewrite, then a reformat, and then inevitably, the midnight polish. The playbook got a glowing review the next morning. I got a tired body and a short fuse.
That morning, my little one asked, “Can we walk to school? It’s so pretty out and we can collect leaves.” It was one of those perfect fall mornings—crisp air, gold leaves, the kind that turns a block into a postcard. I looked at the clock, felt the weight of the hours I’d already spent on someone else’s deadline, grabbed the keys, and said, “We have to drive.”
No one is wrong in this story. But the math didn’t work: a reflexive yes to a colleague replaced a moment I wanted to experience. Nobody claps for a rushed car ride on a beautiful morning, and they shouldn’t. Since then, I ask one question before I commit: What will this yes replace? If the answer is sleep, movement, a real conversation, or thinking time I owe my future self, I offer a smaller yes, or a kind no.

“No” as selection, not rejection
It's time to reframe 'no' as a powerful tool of selection, not rejection. By saying 'no', you're not turning away selection. You’re choosing the work, the people, and the moments that deserve your best. This is not selfish; it’s self-stewardship, and it's empowering.
If language helps, borrow mine: “I can’t give this the attention it deserves.” It’s honest and kind. Sometimes I add, “If it can wait until next month, please circle back.” Sometimes I ask, “What’s the smallest version of this that would still be useful?” (A ten-minute brainstorm, a warm introduction, a one-page review.) Boundaries are not brick walls; they’re doors with handles you control. You decide how wide they open. For instance, you could say, 'I'm currently working on a project that requires my full attention, but I can definitely help you with this next month.' This way, you're not rejecting the request, but you're setting a boundary that respects your current commitments.
Why this matters to money, too
This newsletter will never abandon the numbers. Here’s the bridge: protecting breathing room is not only humane, but also financially prudent.
Focus improves output. One concentrated hour beats three distracted ones, and good work compounds—on reputation, on rates, on opportunities.
Tired brains are expensive. Fatigue invites rework, missed nuances, and short-term choices that cost in the long run.
A little buffer makes you opportunity-ready. When the right project or the right person appears, you can say yes without dropping promises elsewhere. That’s how careers (and companies) leap.
We don’t pursue boundaries instead of results. We seek them to achieve better results—with lives that still feel like our own.
Define “enough” for an actual week
When clients tell me they’re drowning, I don’t assign a purge or a new productivity stack. We begin with a humble question: What does 'enough' look like this week? Not in a fantasy week with no traffic and no sick days. In this week, with errands, weather, and a body that needs sleep.
The answers are often small and sturdy: three focused work blocks, two workouts, two family dinners, one quiet night, one joyful social thing. That’s enough. Everything beyond that is a bonus, not a baseline. Naming enough doesn’t shrink your ambition; it calibrates it. For example, 'enough' could mean completing your most important tasks at work, spending quality time with your family, and taking care of your physical and mental health. This is a realistic and achievable goal for most weeks. Accuracy is what enables us to succeed at work and at home. Let “enough” guide what gets a generous yes and what gets a gentle no.
The helpers among us
Some of you are thinking, “But helping is who I am.” Keep it. Aim it. Choose a lane you care about—literacy at your child’s school, mentorship in your field, your faith community—and give it visible, joyful yeses. Then allow yourself to pass on the rest without a five-paragraph defense. Concentrated generosity accomplishes more than scattered martyrdom.
Inside families, living rich looks like shared load, not silent heroics. Say it with love and clarity: “I don’t manage other adults’ calendars.” “Everyone who eats, cleans.” “Everyone who wears, washes.” These aren’t ultimatums; they’re invitations to adulthood. Kids included.
Two soft skills that harden your boundary (in a good way)
Scope before promise. When a request lands, ask what “done” looks like and by when. Vague asks expand. Clear asks can be right-sized—or declined.
Tradeoffs out loud. If you’re tempted to take something on, name what will move: “I can do this, and that means the Q2 review shifts to Tuesday.” If the other party doesn’t like the trade, they’ve answered your question for you.
These aren’t power plays; they’re grown-up conversations. The more you practice them, the calmer they become—and the lighter your mental load gets.

Close one tab today
Because we’re human, the urge now is to fix everything at once. Please don’t. Pick one open tab and close it. Send an email stating that you’re at capacity. Ask for a smaller scope. Request a later deadline. Or decline, kindly and cleanly, and let the silence sit for five seconds longer than feels comfortable.
That small act is a deposit into the life you say you want: a week with room to notice, to think, to walk to school on a crisp morning because the day allows it. It’s also a deposit into your future net worth. Because the best work grows in the white space you just created.
If you need a nudge
Copy any of these into your drafts:
“Thank you for thinking of me. I’m protecting the commitments already on my plate and can’t take this on.”
“If we move X, I can consider Y. Otherwise, it’s a pass for now.”
“What’s the smallest version of this that would still be helpful? I can offer fifteen minutes on Friday.”
Use them without apology. Editing is optional; your peace is not.
Before we sign off
If the world has trained you to believe no is risky, hear this: the bigger risk is losing the parts of you we rely on—your steadiness, your wit, your judgment, your care. A calendar full of reluctant yeses is not generosity; it’s debt—the interest compounds in resentment and exhaustion. The alternative is quiet and powerful: a schedule that reflects your values, a body that isn’t always bracing, a mind with enough light to see what matters.
That is wealth. You can feel it before you ever log into a bank account.
So, this week: fewer yesses, better ones. Let your no be kind and your calendar honest. Let your attention gather where your life is—at the table, in the meeting that deserves you, on the path to school under a canopy of changing leaves. And when you catch yourself reaching for a reflexive yes, pause and ask the one question that changed my year: What will this yes replace?
With love and Abundance,
Najma Zanelli
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Founder, NAZ Global Consultancy
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