Not Everything Valuable Has to Be Practical

For most of my life, I have been practical.

I was the rule follower. The planner. The responsible one.

I learned early that you take care of what needs to be taken care of. You pay the bills. You work hard. You make good decisions. You make sure the people you love have what they need.

And somewhere along the way, I also learned something many women learn:

You come last.

Not because anyone necessarily says those words out loud. But because there is always something more practical to spend the money on.

The kids need something.

The house needs something.

There is another bill coming.

Something might happen next month.

Better leave the money in the account just in case.

So we wait.

We wait to buy the beautiful thing. We wait to celebrate the promotion. We wait to acknowledge the milestone. We wait to give ourselves something simply because it makes us feel good.

Because we can’t quite justify it.

I understand that woman because I have been her.

That practicality runs generations deep in my family. The women who came before me understood hard work, responsibility, sacrifice and taking care of the people around them. I carried those lessons with me.

I had a plan for my life. I earned my degree. I built my career. I raised my daughter. I worked hard. I tried to make the right decisions.

And for a very long time, I thought being responsible meant there wasn’t much room for being impractical.

Then life changed.

After my divorce, the pendulum swung pretty dramatically in the other direction.

I moved across the country. I moved back. I sold the house. I bought the shoes. I bought the cars. I spent the money.

Let’s just say practicality was taking an extended vacation.

Eventually, though, I realized neither extreme was really me.

I didn’t want to return to the woman who believed everyone and everything should always come before her. But I also didn’t want to live without regard for tomorrow.

Somewhere between those two women, I found myself.

Today, I still believe deeply in responsibility. I work hard. I plan. I save. I take care of the people I love.

But I also own the thousand-dollar pair of shoes.

I drive the luxury car.

Did I need either one?

Absolutely not.

Do they still have value to me?

Absolutely.

And that distinction matters.

Because not everything valuable has to be practical.

Sometimes value is found in the way something makes you feel.

Sometimes it’s in looking down at your wrist and remembering what you accomplished.

Sometimes it’s finally buying something beautiful after spending years making sure everyone else had what they needed first.

Sometimes it’s saying, I worked for this. I want this. This means something to me.

That doesn’t mean spending money you don’t have or ignoring the responsibilities you’ve worked so hard to fulfill. There is nothing empowering about creating financial stress in the name of “treating yourself.”

But there is also nothing wrong with occasionally choosing something simply because it brings you joy.

And your version of impractical doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s.

Maybe $100 feels like a stretch.

Maybe it’s $500.

Maybe someday it’s much more.

The number isn’t the point.

The point is giving yourself permission to recognize that you are allowed to be included in the life you work so hard to provide.

That idea is becoming increasingly important to me as I build Uncommon Jewelry and begin designing pieces at different levels, including pieces that move into accessible luxury.

I don’t want a woman to buy an Uncommon piece simply because it is beautiful.

I want her to know why she chose it.

Maybe it marks the promotion.

The business she finally started.

The birthday she almost treated like just another day.

The season she survived.

The woman she has become.

And maybe, every once in a while, she chooses it for no other reason than this:

I don’t need it.

But I love it.

And this time, I’m giving myself permission to choose me.

Because some of the most meaningful things we give ourselves will never fit neatly into the category of practical.

That doesn’t make them frivolous.

It makes them ours.

Wear Your Story.

Cheri