When “More” Hurts

The Quiet Pain Behind the Lives We Think We Envy

We all strive for more, but few of us ever talk about the quiet, unseen costs that come with it. We envy the lives that seem to have it all, but what happens when the very things we chase begin to weigh us down?

The Hidden Pain of “More”

I don’t know why we’re so obsessed with more—more beauty, more money, more intelligence, more size. But I’ve come to see something most people don’t: having more can quietly destroy you.

Years ago, I matched with a man online. He seemed confident and successful—until the fourth message. Out of nowhere, he asked, “Do you have a size preference?” I didn’t respond. Then another message came: “I’m different. I’m 12 inches—sometimes 14. I’ve tried to build real relationships, but every time we get close, they walk away the second they see it. One woman literally said, ‘Oh God. Not with me.’”

His shame was raw. He wasn’t bragging; he was scared, tired of being rejected for something others assume every man dreams of. I told him, “You’re more than that. If someone can’t see it, they don’t deserve you.” He didn’t reply for a while. When he did, I could sense the weight lifting, just a little.

Admired Outside, Burdened Within

Then there’s my best friend. We were swimming in Las Vegas when I casually said, “Your boobs are incredible.” She laughed, then got serious. “Van, I’m getting breast reduction surgery.” I was shocked. But she explained: “They float so much I can’t swim right. They hurt. I can’t wear most dresses. I’ve wanted this surgery my whole life.”

Her body, admired by so many, was a daily burden.

My cousin’s story is worse. At 13, he got a Porsche and a driver. But he never let privilege spoil him. He studied hard, built his own fortune. Still, his honesty and shyness made him an easy target. He married a self-proclaimed gold digger—a woman who flaunted wealth like a trophy. Their engagement was themed after Crazy Rich Asians. The wedding dress alone, made by the same designer for Miss Philippines, cost a fortune.

Behind the luxury, she was violent. She hit him, bled him dry, terrorized the helpers, nearly burned the house down, and once disappeared with their child in the middle of the night. People envy the rich. But wealth makes you a magnet for those who never loved you—just what they could take from you.

Success Isn’t Always Celebrated

Then there’s me. I’ve been cheated on, lied to, scammed. But that’s not what stings most. What hurts are the moments I’ve been punished for being too much.

At five, when I first arrived in the Philippines, I couldn’t speak English or Filipino but finished kindergarten as the top student. My report card read: “Exceptional student. Just not helpful for other students.” I didn’t understand it then. I do now.

In high school, I corrected teachers and even textbooks. No boys asked me out because I was “too smart.” Later, I became a licensed architect just two years out of school, and one of only two people in the world with all five USGBC accreditations. No one celebrated.

Instead, my boss, an older man who wasn’t even licensed, reprimanded me: “You’re getting ahead of yourself. That’s not good for a woman.” Some coworkers mocked me too, with quiet jabs and side comments that came from envy more than anything else. So I quit.

Recently, a recruiter was excited about me—until I passed their skills test too well. “Our founders don’t know what to do with you,” she said. I offered to take the lower pay to be able to work remotely. I never heard back.

The Loneliness of Having More

I’ve seen this pattern in others too.

Zachary Levi, in Radical Love, shared how he buried his own pain because, as a successful white man in Hollywood, no one would believe he suffered. People would rather say “must be nice” than ask, “Are you okay?”

Or Liu Yifei, absolutely stunning and talented, is still single at 37. I asked my sister why no one asked her out even when she was in school. "Because," she said, "she was too beautiful. The boys were afraid."

My family overpays our maids, taking care of their every need, but they steal whatever they can and then vanish. My dad, a successful businessman, was constantly extorted by corrupt officials. A boy was kidnapped for $20M—paid in full. They still sent him back missing a finger.

So many people dream of more. But few talk about the pain that comes with it. More can mean isolation. It can attract envy, cruelty, and abuse, along with things you never imagined you'd face.

People want you just successful enough to admire—but not so much that you make them question their own lives.

And if you are? They call you intimidating, arrogant, too much. They walk away. Or try to break you down.

You’re Not the Problem

But it was never your fault.

You weren’t too big, too smart, too beautiful, too successful. The world just wasn’t ready.

Still, don’t shrink for them. Don’t quiet your light. Let it blaze.

Even if it blinds them.