Time is money—the typical capitalist mantra that Americans love to repeat.

The implication being, of course, that you need to act efficiently and productively at all times in order to maximize profit. Time is monetarily valuable. In my family, we have always been raised to always prioritize time over money. I guess you could say my family’s mantra is more money is time: The implication that the only worthwhile thing money can buy you is time. Money can save you time, as well as make your time safe. Growing up, my mother was likely to say things like “life is too short to waste a whole day of it” and “an hour is a really long time to be unhappy.” This attitude seems to have rubbed off on me.

Recently, I have been exploring my relationship to money. It’s easy to dismiss money as superficial and unimportant—if you have it. But the truth is that money can buy some very important things. Money can buy freedom, security, experience and time. And it allows you to make decisions that optimize the quality of your life, rather than decisions that minimize the amount of money you spend.

Naturally, in this self-analysis, I have come to recognize that prioritizing time over money is a privilege that many do not have. When looking for apartments I can rent, my mother insists that I ignore the cheapest places, except the cheapest ones that are close to where I want to be, that are in safe neighborhoods and that are “livable.” When looking at transportation, she never considers that I could take a flight with a layover when “that’s so much more time” and “won’t that be stressful?”

Honestly, these are small amounts of time and many would consider this decision-making frivolous, but the intention behind them is the basic concept that your own experience is far more important than the money involved. More importantly, when I was in trouble during my year abroad—particularly one time when I was in a dangerous living situation—money allowed me to pick up and immediately separate myself from the space. It bought me safety. That story in particular made me appreciate the profound privilege I had; someone else in my situation would have had nowhere to go.

For so long, however, I misinterpreted the principle of it. I decided that what it meant is I needed a job that paid enough that I could prioritize time over money. I even decided it was my mother who considered this important. Soon enough, however, I got a good speech from her about how, even if you’re working 20 hours a week, that’s a huge portion of your life to give up for money (or anything for that matter). I have since realized my own ironic misconception: To do something that I could stand but didn’t love for money, or to make a career choice for money would inherently be to prioritize money over time. Whatever little time it might save me in transit would be lost a hundredfold in my career.

And so I realized I need to find a job I love, one that is fulfilling and that I want to throw myself into. On principle, I won’t trade time for money. I will spend my time doing what I think is best and (hopefully) find a way to get paid for it, however much or however little. Right now I’m thinking teaching, but we’ll see.

A good friend called me on the privilege of this thought process. That works well and good for you who, he told me. You have the privilege of choosing your career. This is another good point. In all of my relation to money and my access to careers, education and opportunities, I have immense privilege. But the principle can still stand: To make work your life. That means investing in coworkers, finding a place with coworkers you enjoy spending time with, building a life where you work. I have found that, without fail, how happy I am at a job is directly correlated to the community of the workplace. That can happen and has happened to me pretty much anywhere. It’s not necessarily easy, but you will probably work at least 40 hours a week. That’s just too much of your life to trade for any amount of money.