The cure for being "bad with money"
In spite everything I’ve said in previous blogs, do you still think “I am bad with money”? Does the thought of ever getting on top of your finances seem impossible? Is there some part of your identity, deep within, that rejects the idea that you could ever be good with money? Does even trying make you feel tense and sweaty? Is your stomach doing an awkward, twitchy, little dance just reading this?
It’s ok.
I’ve got you.
Imagine a life in which the end of the month doesn’t feel too different from the beginning. Imagine planning to treat someone you love and being able to go to town without going into debt. Imagine knowing if one of life’s crises crops up, you have the money to cope. Imagine musing on the future you want once your ready to stop working, confident that you’ll be in a position to enjoy it.
What if you could be ok with money? What if you could be fine with money? What if you could be good enough with money?
The good with money/bad with money false binary that I’ve ranted against leaves no room for a more casually comfortable relationship with money. In reality, this is what a lot of people would prefer. Many people would like to be confident they’re doing alright with their finances, but aren’t primarily driven by money.
Does the idea of being good enough with money sounds great, but also a long way from your current situation? That’s ok. You can get there. The key is to start really, really small.
Imagine the types of actions you would take as a person who is good enough with money. Some suggestions:
shop around for deals and cancel unwanted subscriptions, so you don’t waste money on shopping;
learn the meaning of financial jargon and basic economics, so you feel confident in your choices;
save and invest automatically on pay day, so you don’t rely on willpower to make good intentions happen;
pay off borrowed money as soon as possible without incurring extra charges, so you pay as little interest as possible;
negotiate for more pay and lower costs, so you get a great deal;
keep financial paperwork orderly, so you can get your hands on the information you need when you need it;
learn what different financial professionals do and how to choose the right one for your needs, so you can tap into the expertise we all need from time to time.
Choose one of these groups of actions. Now choose a single, small, simple action that fits within this group.
Smaller than that. Nope. Still too big. Think smaller. Think tiny.
Some suggestions for tiny actions:
Search for reviews for one product you are considering buying and bookmark the review to read later, if you can’t read it now;
Find out where you can see the list of subscriptions in your Apple, Google or other mobile payments account;
Learn the meaning of one piece of financial jargon - this is a good list - start with words you’ve seen before;
Find out how to set up a regular automated payment into savings;
Find out if you can overpay any money you’ve borrowed without being charged extra;
Make a list of your achievements at work;
Open one envelope - you don’t have to read what’s inside.
We become confident, not because we’re confident people or by telling ourselves to “be confident”, but by doing what we want to become confident we can do.
There is no such thing as being “bad with money”, but if there were, and if you were, the “cure” would be these tiny actions, one after another, day by day, gradually adding up to better more money in the bank. Do a few tiny actions every week and you’ll be well on your way to being good enough with money.
P.S.
I used to be a financial adviser. It was my job to have a deep understanding of financial products currently on the market and how these could meet people’s needs. I would listen to people’s individual stories and ask questions about those needs, then recommend the products I thought would suit them the best.
As a money coach, I help people understand and improve their psychological relationship with money, so they can be happier that their financial choices are supporting them to build the life they want. There! You’ve completed an action from the last group already! In fact you’ve done it twice. Well done. Go have a cuppa and listen to a song you like.
Do another tiny action tomorrow.
You’ve got this.
Therapy is an investment in yourself (and it can produce a financial return)
Anyone who listens to my podcast, or knows me personally, knows that I’m very open about having had therapy for a few years in the early 2010s. It was, no kidding, one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I say this even though a back-of-the-envelope calculation puts the cost (for several years of weekly private therapy one-on-one) at around £9,700.
(I’m going to go through why I think this for the benefit of readers who suspect therapy could help them and have enough money if they prioritised differently, but are choosing not to start therapy “because it’s expensive”. If you are on a low income or your other essential costs eat up so much of your budget that you genuinely can’t make space for therapy, and you know you need it, please scroll to the bottom of the post where I’ve put links to some low cost and free resources.)
When I first worked out what I’d spent on therapy, some years after I’d stopped seeing my therapist, I was a little shocked. I’d been on a pretty good salary while I was in therapy, so it hadn’t been too much of a stretch to cover the cost, but I hadn’t saved much outside of my workplace pension. I wondered if part of the reason was that I had put so much money into my mental health.
I messaged my sister and said “I don’t regret it, but wow, look at what therapy cost me!”
She replied with typical little sister directness “If you hadn’t had the therapy you would have spent it all on booze. (shrug emoji)”
And you know what, she’s right. Because before therapy I was in a pretty bad place and my spending reflected that. I was struggling with a whole bunch of difficult feelings and unprocessed mental STUFF (from early childhood losses through being assaulted in my twenties to a deeply toxic relationship and messy break-up) and I didn’t know how to respond to all those thoughts and feelings in healthy ways.
So what was I doing?
Drinking too much. Not whisky-on-the-cornflakes drinking too much, just more and more often than was wise.
Eating too much. Not exactly binges, but not exactly not binges either. I’d have a tub of Häagen-Dazs on the sofa once a week. Or a big bag of Kettle Chips with my bottle of wine. By myself. In my flat. On a Thursday.
Shopping too much. Not to the point of getting into debt, but too much for saving and building a solid financial future.
I wasn’t taking good care of myself in other ways too. My home was frequently messy to the point where I was embarrassed to have visitors, I wasn’t exercising much, my sleep patterns were off, I’d get hooked on Skinner box-type casual video games and play them for hours. My inner critic had free rein to berate me as and when they felt like it. I was bad at making time for friends and lonely by myself.
When you look at this list of unwholesome behaviours, they fall broadly into two types. I was either neglecting myself (not exercising, not sleeping well, not keeping my home nice) or I was trying to numb difficult feelings with pleasures and taking it to excess (food, drink, games and shopping).
Since this is a money blog, let’s talk about the role shopping specifically played in this. How does shopping help numb difficult feelings?
If you’re feeling out of control, shopping gives a sense of control. When the world seems unpredictable and dangerous and your mind is a whirlwind of negativity, shopping feels like a simple, consistent ritual to hold onto. I choose what I want and, if I can pay for it, I am given it. Done.
If you lack self-respect, shopping is a way to buy respectful treatment under the convention that the customer is always right. I understand this is more complicated for LGBTQ+ people, disabled people and people of colour, especially those with darker skin, but in general, the principles of good customer service mean that sales assistants should be friendly and considerate of your needs. And you might not be getting that from anyone else, including yourself.
If you feel you there’s something wrong with you, shops offer infinite possible solutions. Maybe this personal organiser will make me feel like a real professional. Maybe this sketch book will rekindle my childhood love of drawing. Maybe this underwear will make me feel cute enough to want to go meet someone new. Of course, if the feeling comes from a lingering belief that your narcissistic parent/childhood bullies/abusive ex were right, no amount of fancy pants will fix it.
Our hunter-gatherer brains start releasing dopamine when we start shopping. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter that makes the search for pleasure enjoyable. It makes the actual process of seeking out a purchase feel at least as good as getting your hands on your new item. If you’re feeling miserable and unmotivated, this feeling might be quite rare in your life. Another reason why shopping can temporarily pull you out of that low place and seem so compelling.
Ultimately though, shopping is not a solution to your problems. The underlying pain and mental mess is still there and then there’s the shame of having overspent, when you know you should be able to save.
You can numb your feelings all you like, but you carry your mental baggage until you unpack it. I may have spent £9,700 on therapy, but I’d spent far more on treat foods, booze and unnecessary purchases. If I consider the opportunity cost of not having saved or invested the money I overspent, I’m looking at an extra £140,000 into my retirement fund, minimum. Ouch!
I don’t blame my younger self. I was overwhelmed and didn’t have better ways to cope. I was doing the best I could, but the best I could do was still making things worse until I spoke to a therapist and started working on the root causes of the issues.
What’s more, the calculation above is just based on the few year in the run up to deciding I needed to get help and finally deal with my issues properly. If I hadn’t had therapy and had just kept spending as I was, that potential investment figure would have been closer to half a million! What’s more, my mental health didn’t do my career any good either, so there would have been losses there too. £9,700 is nothing on that.
Therapy worked for me. I feel better about myself. I’m clearer-headed and make better choices. I live a very wholesome life. I exercise, I meditate, I enjoy my Häagen-Dazs, wine and Kettle Chips in moderation. My house is reasonably clean and tidy. I get to bed at a decent hour and mostly sleep well. I only shop when I have a clear idea what I need.
What I’m trying to say is, if cost is what’s putting you off getting help, but you have money for treats, shopping and socialising, then I’m taking this excuse away from you. The financial benefits of getting your mental health in better shape are clear cut, I’m afraid.
I’m lucky that I could afford to pay for private treatment. I’m well aware of that and, believe me, I’m grateful for it.
If cost really is an issue because of your life circumstances, there are some ways to get support at low or no cost. I don’t know about options outside the UK, but I will do my best with those available here.
Therapy can be available for free through the NHS, but getting access to it is a notoriously slow process. You’ll need to speak to your GP first of all. There’s more about this route on the NHS website.
You may be able to get help through a mental health charity. The best way to find out about those is through Hub of Hope, which is a national directory of all types of mental health services. They also have details of support lines you can call in case you need someone to talk to right now.
Many private therapists do offer a reduced rate if their full price is unaffordable, so if you can afford something each week, you can ask whether that might be an option. Mind has more information about finding and choosing a private therapist. It’s a good idea to know what you’re looking for and what questions to ask. On Counselling Directory, you can search for practitioners who offer concessions for people in certain circumstances including students, low income and unemployed people. Listings on the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy also include whether the practitioner offers concessionary rates, although you can’t include that in your search criteria.
Alternatively, there are online tools available. While these are not the personalised in-depth support a therapist can give, they can be very helpful for keeping your head above water and as an alternative to the kind of numbing actions that can damage your health, relationships and finances.
There’s Living Life to the Full, which offers free Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) based courses to help you understand why you feel the way you do and how to move into a more confident and resilient way of thinking, so you can feel better.
There’s also Moodgym, which is similar (and available globally) and charges £25.20 (inc VAT) for 12 months of access.
Finally there are lots of apps recommended by the NHS to help with different aspects of your mental wellbeing. Many of these are free to use, although they may have in-app purchases, and you can find them here.
Money and mental health is a tricky topic. I’ve only talked about my experiences and I was lucky in that my issues were relatively treatable. For more on how money and mental health interact you can listen to this episode of my podcast, Squanderlust, with Emily Reynolds.