When I was just 7 years old, I sat beside my dad while he sorted through client statements, receipts, and invoices. He explained things to me as he worked, such as what an expense was, how a balanced budget worked, and what an invoice meant.
Money wasn’t a secret subject at our house; we had to address it. My parents were accountants, so our dinner table often doubled as an auxiliary desk.
When I was 8, I wanted to sell candy in the neighborhood. My parents helped me first build a mini business plan. They then taught me where I should store the money I earned, introducing concepts like savings, cost of goods, and what it meant to reinvest earnings.
From that point on, financial conversations became part of our family rhythm. At dinner or over breakfast, we’d talk about savings accounts and how to plan for more significant purchases.
Still, I made mistakes with my money when I grew up.
I followed my love for finances as a professional
Those early lessons stuck with me. I wanted to explore the financial world more, so I majored in finance and started working in the field as quickly as I could.
After I started working full time as a finance manager, I wanted to enjoy the freedom that came with earning more money. I went to happy hours with coworkers, joined group dinners, and said “yes” to weekend getaways. It all felt normal, like the kind of life a young professional should be living.
At first, the spending didn’t seem like a big deal. It was never a huge, one-time purchase — just dinners here, flights there, gifts, experiences.
I was still budgeting, but I was quickly spending more than I earned. I told myself I could manage it.
But I wasn’t managing it. I was leaning on my credit card more and more, convincing myself that this was just temporary. Eventually, I’d catch up until I didn’t.
Credit card debt knocked on my door
I felt ashamed — not just because I was in debt, but because I should have known better. I was taught early on about the power of saving. I had the privilege of financial literacy that most people miss out on.
Financial literacy wasn’t enough to prevent and predict my poor money behaviors; it had to do with something other than just literacy.
No one had ever told me what to do when the desire to belong overpowers your financial logic. No one told me how easy it is to swipe a card when you’re trying to build what could be your professional identity. I knew the tools and the concepts, but I hadn’t learned how to handle the emotional pressure that can come with social expectations.
So I started looking inward. Slowly, I began to change my relationship with money and became aware of money’s emotional and psychological aspects. I stopped saying “yes” to everything and started to become interested in why I would say “yes” and the emotional roots of my behavior.
Today, I think about money differently. Financial literacy gave me the foundation, but learning to navigate the emotional side of money truly changed my life.
