Cat Food or Caviar?

There comes a point in everyone’s life when you’re forced to ask a deceptively simple question:

Am I settling for cat food when I could be eating caviar?

It might sound ridiculous at first. Cat food or caviar? What a weird metaphor. But the moment you sit with it, you realize it’s about more than food. It’s about standards. Self-worth. The decisions we make—conscious or otherwise—about what we accept, what we pursue, and what we believe we deserve.

The Daily Diet of Decisions

Most people don’t wake up one day and decide, “You know what? I’m going to live a mediocre life.” Yet slowly, over time, many of us do. We shrink our dreams, we cut corners, we get practical. We trade ambition for comfort, risk for routine. And one day, we find ourselves staring at the metaphorical can of cat food, telling ourselves, “It’s not that bad.”

This shows up everywhere: relationships, work, health, creative projects, even friendships. That job you hate but stay in because the money’s okay. That friend who drains your energy but you’ve known forever. That project you shelved because you weren’t sure anyone would care. All cat food.

And sometimes we tell ourselves we’re just being realistic. That caviar isn’t for people like us. That it’s only for the elite, the rich, the lucky, or the talented. But here’s the twist:

Caviar doesn’t always mean expensive. It means exceptional.

It means “the good stuff”—whatever that is for you. It could be publishing that book you’ve been sitting on. Starting a business. Leaving a toxic relationship. Taking a year off. Standing up for yourself. The thing that feels like a luxury because you’ve been taught it might be too much to ask.

Why We Choose Cat Food

There are usually three culprits behind our acceptance of cat food:

1. Fear — of failure, rejection, judgment, success.
2. Inertia — the weight of habits, routines, and systems that resist change.
3. Programming — beliefs inherited from family, society, or culture that tell us what’s “appropriate.”

Fear is the loudest. It’s that voice that whispers, “Who do you think you are?” or “Don’t rock the boat.”

Inertia is subtle but powerful. It’s easier to keep doing what you’ve always done, even if it’s not fulfilling.

And programming? That’s the oldest one in the book. Generational scripts handed down like heirlooms. “Play it safe.” “Be grateful for what you have.” “People like us don’t get to live like that.”

If you’re not paying attention, cat food starts looking like a feast.

Recognizing the Taste of Caviar

Every now and then, you get a taste of the good stuff. Maybe it was a moment when someone truly saw you. A project you lost yourself in. A conversation that lit you up. A weekend that felt like your real life.

Those aren’t accidents. They’re clues. Signals. Reminders of what you’re capable of and what you crave deep down.

The tragedy is when we taste caviar and still return to cat food, convincing ourselves it was a fluke. That it was too rich, too risky, or just not sustainable.

But what if caviar was the benchmark, not the outlier?

Making the Shift

Moving from cat food to caviar is uncomfortable. It challenges your sense of identity. It requires you to say no to what you’ve outgrown, and yes to what you haven’t fully figured out yet.

It’s not about blowing up your life recklessly. It’s about being intentional. Strategic. Honest.

Ask yourself:

• Where am I settling?
• What am I tolerating that drains me?
• What would I be doing if I believed I deserved better?

These aren’t easy questions. But they’re necessary if you’re tired of licking the can.

My Own Shift

I’ve had to ask myself this question more than once. Professionally, personally, creatively. Each time, the stakes felt high. Each time, there was resistance. But every time I chose caviar, even when it was scary, it elevated everything.

Not because it was easy. But because it was aligned.

When I walked away from comfort toward something more fulfilling, I rediscovered parts of myself I had buried under practicality. I reconnected with desire. With vision. With hope.

That doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes slip back. Cat food is familiar. Convenient. Cheap.

But the moment I taste caviar again, I remember why I left.

You Get What You Settle For

This isn’t about perfection. Or greed. It’s about standards. Self-respect. And not mistaking scraps for a banquet.

So ask yourself:

• What am I feeding myself mentally, emotionally, spiritually?
• Is it nourishing me?
• Or just keeping me alive?

You deserve more than survival. You deserve delight. Joy. Challenge. Growth. You deserve caviar.

And if anyone tells you otherwise, smile politely.

Then pass the damn caviar.

#StayFrosty!

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