Somewhere along the way, success was measured in square meters.  

Your own apartment.

Your own car.

Your own office with an ergonomic chair and just the right kind of oat milk in the fridge.

We were taught that arriving meant being able to close your own door to the world. That adulthood, in its most distilled form, was solitude paired with good Wi-Fi and enough savings to order sushi without checking your account first.

But something is shifting.

Not everywhere, not all at once - but quietly, stubbornly, there's a redefinition happening.  

Success is starting to look less like "mine" and more like "ours."

Yes, you read that right. 

Less about the space you own and more about the people you live life with.

Let's talk about it.

It's Not About Co-Living - It's About Shared Living  

Let's be clear: this isn't a pitch for group housing or buying bunk beds as an adult.  

It's not about signing up for a commune, giving up privacy, or always eating meals in a circle holding hands (unless that's your thing).

It's about shared living in the real sense.  

Not the architecture, but the everyday-ness of life being shared.

The midweek dinner when we are all too tired to cook but still eat together anyway.  

The quiet company while folding laundry.  

The Tuesday night where nothing really happens - but you're in the same room, side by side, and somehow that's enough.

We've gotten so used to thinking social life = big events: parties, after-work drinks, concerts, curated dinner plans.  

But what about the in-between moments?

What about spontaneous chats over coffee, or arguing over how to load the dishwasher, or simply knowing someone's nearby? 

This is the life we've been missing.  

And this is where the shift in "the rich life" begins.

The Loneliness of Doing Life Alone 

We grew up with a blueprint of success that looked suspiciously like solitude.

Get the degree.

Land the job.

Buy the place.

Have your own everything - fridge, schedule, emotional breakdowns.

Independence was the goal.

Needing no one was the dream.

And if you had someone (or something) to talk to, it was a voice assistant with pre-programmed empathy.

But what happens after you get there?

You work. You come home. You scroll.  

Maybe you light a candle. Maybe you water a plant.  

And maybe - just maybe - you sit down on your oversized sofa, looking at the fake fireplace on your oversized TV, and wonder if this is really it.

Because even when life looks good on paper, loneliness sneaks in through the cracks of everyday life.   

We're not just tired from work.  

We're tired of holding everything alone.

A New Kind of Capital 

What if success isn't about what you own but who you can call when things go sideways?  

What if luxury is someone remembering your tea order - or knowing when you need silence instead of advice?

This isn't about sacrificing space.  

It's about trading isolation for integration.

We don't need everyone to move in together.

But we do need to live closer, emotionally and practically, to our tribe.  

To create daily life patterns that include others - not just on special occasions, but on Wednesdays. ...on boring, beautiful Wednesdays.

That's the kind of shared living I'm talking about.

Redefining the Good Life

In a world of rising costs, unstable housing, and mental health crises, the "good life" is getting a much-needed makeover.

Maybe it's not the perfect flat in the city center.

Maybe it's being able to walk down the street to someone who knows you.  

And cooking too much and texting your friend, "Come eat this with me."  

Maybe it's the simple, ancient relief of not doing life alone.

And yes, sometimes that means co-living in the literal sense.  

But often, it just means building your life so that people are close enough to matter daily.

Let's Wrap This Up

This isn't about rejecting independence.  

It's about redefining it.

Real success today might be the kind where you can close your door at night…  

…but know that just down the hall or two streets over, someone's keeping an eye on your favorite mug.  

Someone's there for Tuesday dinners and Sunday debriefs.

Someone exists in your everyday, not just your highlights.

Because, in the end, square meters don't hold us.

People do.

And that quiet shift - from ownership to shared living in the truest sense - might just be the smartest, sanest thing we do.

Lots of love,

Stina

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