Sunday guest journalling prompt

The stories we tell ourselves about money

Before I was born, my parents both had good jobs. Dad was a compositor (a printing job that no longer exists) and Mum worked for the Post Office. In 1966, they emigrated to Canada where, the story went, they had so much money, they would literally just grab a handful of cash from a drawer on the way out of the door. 

In 1971 I arrived and, later that year, we moved back to the UK. They certainly weren’t well off, but I don’t think they had to worry about money much, and from the late Seventies we had a holiday abroad every year (and a couple of times they had a second holiday without me and my younger sister). 

In 1985, Mum was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. The following year, Dad was made redundant, since computers had rendered his job obsolete. He got redundancy money, but it didn’t go very far.  

From then on, they struggled. Mostly Mum, who I remember constantly worrying about money. She would go from supermarket to supermarket following the guy with the pricing gun. I remember her crying over a heating bill. I remember fighting with her when she asked for some of my pay from my first Saturday job. I thought it was my money to spend how I wanted. I’m sure she needed it for something important.

I almost deleted the paragraphs above because I am now 53 years old and Mum died in 1999, Dad in 2010. Why am I still harping on about my parents’ relationship with money? My own earliest money memories and experiences? But it’s all part of my money story. Those early experiences – of lack and fear and worry and stress – continue to inform my relationship with money. 

I started writing The Ladybird Purse, my Substack about women and money, following my divorce after 24 years of marriage. With very little income and no safety net, I was responsible for myself and my two teen boys. I felt free but afraid. Independent but intimidated. 

The more I talked to friends, the more I found they were in similar positions. No savings, no pension, no plan. Often not much of a credit record because all the bills had been in their husband’s name. 

I started interviewing women about money. Often the first thing they say is they're terrible with money, they're scared of it, they don't have anything useful to contribute. But the conversations are always fascinating, inspiring, sometimes heartbreaking. I’ve learned a lot and subscribers email to tell me that the interviews make them feel less alone. 

I think I thought that writing a weekly newsletter about money would "fix" me. And once I was fixed, money would start to flow to me. And I do feel a lot better about money than I did two years ago. I rarely wake up worrying about it anymore. I don't feel guilty about spending. But I still don't earn enough. I don't have savings. I have a little debt, but that's okay because I know how I’m going to pay it off. 

One big change is that I used to focus on the negative side of money. All my money memories were bad memories - my earliest money memory is of my mum having her purse stolen out of her bag while she pushed little me on the swings. Recently I made a list of good money memories - all the fun and joy money has brought me. From holidays with my boys to, as Nora Ephron wrote, ‘dinner with friends in cities where none of us lives’. 

Maybe you could start by doing the same.

(You could also write out all your bad/sad/shameful money stories and memories. Doing this helped me. But only do it if you think it will help more than hurt.)