Why do we keep wanting more, even when we already have so much? My journey from a comfortable childhood in Germany to living across Africa taught me something unexpected about hunger, happiness, and what it really means to have enough.

My parents worked hard to give us everything they could.

More than they had.

They came from families shaped by the Second World War.

Generations that knew trauma and scarcity.

Generations where survival often came before talking about feelings.

Where love wasn’t necessarily expressed through hugs or words, but through working hard, providing, and making sure your children were safe.

Today, I understand that.

My parents wanted us to have more.

More security.

More opportunities.

More choices.

A better life.

Perhaps this is one of the most human wishes there is:

May my children have more than I had.

And they succeeded.

I’m deeply grateful for that.

But there’s one evening I’ve never forgotten.

I was crying, begging for my father to come home.

And my mother told me:

“He’s working so we can afford all of this.”

I remember the desperate words of the child I was:

“I don’t want any of this. I just want my father to be here.”

Today, I believe we all do the best we can with the awareness we have.

But that moment taught me something I wouldn’t understand for many more years.

Once our basic needs for food, shelter, safety, and health are met, so much of what we’re truly hungry for cannot be answered materially.

Sometimes what we need isn’t another possession.

It’s someone’s presence.

As a young woman, I didn’t understand any of this yet.

So I did what I knew best.

I kept reaching for more.

I wanted to squeeze everything I possibly could out of this life.

And for years, I did.

Until I began to see the paradox.

The more I tried to fit into my life, the less I was actually living it.

More productivity.

Less presence.

More planning.

Less noticing.

More experiences, without fully experiencing them.

I was so afraid of missing life that much of the time, I wasn’t really there while I was living it.

I was always trading now for soon.

But the strange thing about soon is that when it finally arrives, it’s called now.

And by then, I was already chasing the next soon.

I wonder how many of us live this way.

Working toward a future in which we imagine we’ll finally feel satisfied.

Only to reach it and immediately begin searching for the next thing.

After another health crisis and my second operation on my uterus, I left my old life behind in 2014.

I went on what was probably the biggest personal mission of my life.

I wanted to understand what abundance actually means.

During earlier backpacking journeys across the African continent, I’d already experienced glimpses of something that fascinated me.

Especially in rural areas, I met people who materially had far less than I had grown up with.

And yet, I often experienced an abundance in everyday life that I couldn’t explain.

I don’t mean romanticizing poverty or imagining that village life somewhere in Africa is automatically simpler or happier.

Lack of food, healthcare, education, and security can create enormous suffering.

What I noticed in particular encounters was something else.

A groundedness.

A connection.

A feeling of being rooted in life instead of constantly running ahead of it.

I wanted that too.

Not just to experience it while travelling and then return home and lose it again.

I wanted to understand where that feeling came from and somehow carry it into my everyday life.

The African continent didn’t become my solution. It became my mirror.

It made me question things I’d always taken for granted.

What does it mean to have enough?

What makes a life rich?

And why could I have so much while still feeling that something essential was missing?

How I Began to Find Enough Within Myself

Then COVID came.

I decided to spend lockdown in Morocco.

For someone who had spent years moving, exploring, and reaching outward, suddenly being unable to get what I wanted whenever I wanted it changed everything.

There was nowhere to run.

And I became tired of what was happening inside me.

The constant restlessness.

The same negative words.

The same repetitive thoughts.

So I started sitting with them.

Watching my thoughts instead of being run over by them.

I began naming the things I was grateful for that day instead of constantly focusing on what was missing.

And slowly, something changed.

I started feeling an abundance that had been there all along.

Not because my circumstances suddenly became perfect.

But because my relationship with them was changing.

For the first time, I began experiencing a sense of peace inside myself.

A feeling of enough that didn’t depend entirely on what happened next.

And around that time, I met my husband.

My husband grew up with almost the opposite experience to mine.

Resources were limited.

He knew actual hunger.

Access to education and reliable healthcare could be a challenge.

And what little there was often had to be shared with many.

But he carried another kind of abundance.

A deep feeling of belonging.

Of being part of something.

Of not being separate.

And that fascinates me to this day.

I had fought so hard for independence.

To stand on my own two feet.

But somehow, I could barely feel those feet anymore.

I lived mostly in my head.

Thinking ahead.

Reaching forward.

Always looking outward.

Instead of resting inside my body.

Grounded.

Rooted.

Here.

And here was someone who had experienced real scarcity but carried a deep sense of connection within him.

A kind of peace.

An acceptance of life as it is.

One of the simplest things he taught me around food was:

“It’s okay to be hungry.”

You don’t have to satisfy every hunger immediately.

You don’t always have to feel full.

And slowly, I began to understand something.

Maybe feeling full and feeling fulfilled are two completely different things.

What Are We Actually Hungry For?

So I started looking underneath my own hunger.

And guess where it led me?

Straight into the black hole.

The place I’d spent so many years trying to escape.

I explored it.

Sat with it.

Went deeper and deeper.

Until suddenly, I didn’t want to run from it anymore.

There was peace there.

And answers to questions that had once felt completely chaotic.

What I found underneath my hunger was surprisingly simple.

I wanted to be seen.

Loved.

Appreciated.

To belong.

To feel that I mattered.

To trust life.

To feel rooted in it.

To feel fully alive.

And perhaps that’s where the question “Why is nothing ever enough?” becomes interesting.

Because maybe money isn’t always really about money.

Maybe the promotion isn’t only about the job.

Maybe being busy isn’t always about getting things done.

Sometimes we’re hoping that something outside ourselves will finally give us a feeling we’re missing inside.

Security.

Recognition.

Freedom.

Love.

Or simply a big hug.

Maybe the thing we’re chasing outside ourselves isn’t what we’re hungry for inside at all.

And maybe that’s why nothing ever feels like enough.

I want to make an important distinction here.

I’m not talking about the hunger of survival.

Of war.

Of not having enough food, water, shelter, or safety.

I’m talking about those of us whose basic needs are met and who still feel that something is missing.

Why Consumerism Keeps Us Wanting More

Our economy, especially consumer culture, has a complicated relationship with hunger.

Much of advertising works by drawing our attention to something we don’t have.

A problem we could solve.

A version of ourselves we could become.

A life that might finally feel complete if we bought one more thing.

And strangely, we now have our own media.

Our own platforms.

The possibility to connect with people all over the world.

Yet so much of what we create and consume doesn’t necessarily deepen connection.

Sometimes it feeds the black hole.

Because my own black hole always wants more.

More views.

More attention.

More validation.

And yes, I could blame advertising.

Algorithms.

The pressure to achieve.

To look better.

Reach further.

Become more.

But one idea changed the way I approach this:

Self-responsibility.

I still have choices within the circumstances of my life.

I can notice my hunger.

Step back from it.

Question it.

Do I really need this?

Or what do I actually need underneath it?

Because if I don’t learn to hear myself, the world won’t do it for me.

The shop doesn’t close.

Work follows us home.

The news never ends.

There is no last post.

No final video.

No end of the feed.

Social media will never tell me:

You’ve had enough. Go outside.

I have to learn to recognize enough for myself.

And sometimes, to feel hungry without automatically believing that something outside me is missing.

I don’t believe the answer is to eliminate desire.

Our curiosity, ambition, creativity, and hunger for experience can be beautiful parts of being human.

But we can become more conscious of what we’re asking those desires to give us.

Here are a few questions I return to in my own life.

1. What Am I Actually Hungry For?

Before reaching for the next thing, I try to look underneath the desire.

Do I want this experience because it genuinely excites me?

Or because I’m afraid of missing something?

Am I working because I love what I’m creating?

Or because I need another achievement to feel worthy?

Sometimes the answer surprises me.

2. Am I Trying to Fill an Emotional Need With Something Material?

Material things can make life safer, more comfortable, and more enjoyable.

But they cannot replace every form of human connection.

Sometimes what we need isn’t another purchase or accomplishment.

It’s time.

Attention.

Belonging.

Someone who is really there.

3. Can I Experience Hunger Without Immediately Satisfying It?

My husband’s words continue to stay with me.

It’s okay to be hungry.

For me, this isn’t about ignoring genuine physical needs.

It’s about noticing the difference between a need and an impulse.

Sometimes I can want something without needing to act on that desire immediately.

And sometimes, when I give it a little space, I discover what I was really looking for.

4. Can I Recognize When I Have Enough?

Some time ago, I read something in a book about shamanic traditions that stayed with me.

Before taking something from a plant, ask permission.

Take only what you need for today.

And say thank you.

Such a small idea.

But I began wondering what would happen if I applied that attitude to other areas of my life.

Food.

Work.

Money.

Information.

Experiences.

My own time.

Instead of asking:

How much can I get?

What if I asked:

How much do I actually need?

Because maybe enough isn’t only about me.

Maybe it’s also about remembering what I’m part of.

Why Natural Limits Can Help Us Feel Content

The life I’ve chosen today reminds me of natural limits constantly.

Some mornings, there isn’t enough sun to charge my solar battery.

And my laptop simply has to wait.

Of course, I could buy a bigger battery.

More solar panels.

More equipment.

More.

Or perhaps I can take my dog and go for a walk on the beach.

And you know what?

Nothing bad happens.

Instead, I often find peace in moments like that.

Because limits create something our seemingly endless world often doesn’t.

A point of enough.

And there’s an important difference between choosing less and living with scarcity.

For me, this isn’t about having less for the sake of having less.

It’s about taking responsibility for how much I take, use, and consume.

And recognizing that what feels like lack inside me may not be something the outside world can fill at all.

Finding Enough: What Changed After Years of Searching

That black hole I used to feel inside me isn’t black anymore.

It’s as if somewhere along the way, a little window opened.

And light came in.

Now, I often see it in all its colors.

I still forget.

I still run.

I still get lost in the next thing.

I still want more sometimes.

But once you’ve seen that light, there’s no going back to complete darkness.

I don’t think the goal is to stop wanting things.

Or to become someone who never feels restless.

Perhaps it’s simply to recognize when our hunger is pointing toward something deeper.

To know when we genuinely need more.

And when what we’re looking for is already available in a different form.

A moment of presence.

A feeling of belonging.

A conversation.

A connection.

The quiet realization that, for now, we have enough.

Maybe enough isn’t a number we finally reach. Maybe it’s a relationship we learn to have with life.

Watch the Film: Why Is Nothing Ever Enough?

This article is based on my cinematic Afrimind film Why Is Nothing Ever Enough? What Living Across Africa Made Me Question.

In the film, I share my personal journey from a childhood of material abundance to years of searching across Africa, and the experiences that changed my understanding of hunger, fulfillment, and enough.

🎬 Watch the Full Film on YouTube

Frequently Asked Questions

Why is nothing ever enough for me?

There can be many reasons for never feeling satisfied, including unmet emotional needs, constant comparison, fear of missing out, or the habit of looking toward the next achievement. Sometimes the things we’re pursuing don’t address what we genuinely need.

Why do I always want more even when I have everything?

Having material security doesn’t automatically fulfill needs for love, connection, belonging, recognition, or meaning. Wanting more isn’t necessarily a problem, but it can be useful to explore what you’re hoping the next thing will give you.

How can I stop always wanting more?

Begin by noticing your desires without immediately acting on them. Ask what you genuinely need, practice recognizing what you already have, and create moments of presence without constantly reaching for new stimulation or achievement.

What is the difference between being full and being fulfilled?

Being full describes having enough of something, such as food or experiences. Being fulfilled refers to a deeper sense of satisfaction, meaning, or connection. Having more doesn’t automatically create that feeling.

Does simple living make people happier?

Simple living can help some people focus on meaningful relationships, intentional choices, and a healthier relationship with consumption. But it isn’t a universal solution, and choosing simplicity is different from experiencing involuntary scarcity.

How do I learn to feel content with my life?

Contentment can begin with recognizing your genuine needs, appreciating what you already have, and questioning whether every desire requires an immediate response. It doesn’t mean giving up ambition or accepting harmful circumstances.

A Little Gift for Your Soul ❤️

Maybe you don’t need another thing to achieve.

Maybe you need a little space to reconnect with yourself.

That’s why I created A Little Gift for Your Soul — a free audio guide with seven simple things you can integrate into your daily life to live with more kindness, love, and balance.

A small invitation to slow down, listen inward, and remember what truly matters.

🌿 Get Your Free Audio Guide

Because sometimes, what we’re looking for isn’t more.

It’s a deeper connection with what is already here.

— Lena | Afrimind