The Psychology of Money: How Our Beliefs Shape Financial Decisions
We think money is math.
Add, subtract. Earn, save.
Work hard, spend smart. Stick to a budget. Simple.
But for most of us, it’s not that simple.
Not because we’re irresponsible or “lack discipline.” More because money is emotional.
It carries stories from our childhood.
Memories of fights behind closed doors.
Guilt around asking. Fear around receiving.
Relief that never quite lasts.
Money, for many of us, is not logic. It’s identity.
What Did You Learn About Money, Without Realising?
Maybe you heard things like:
“We can’t afford that.”
“Don’t be greedy.”
“Be grateful for what you have.”
“You have to earn your keep.”
“We don’t talk about money in this house.”
Or maybe you didn’t hear anything.
Maybe you just watched the tension in the room grow every time a bill came in.
Maybe you saw a parent sacrifice constantly, and internalised that love means giving without limit.
Maybe you learned to shrink your wants so no one would worry.
We aren’t born with beliefs about money. We absorb them. And over time, those beliefs become rules.
“Spend it before it disappears.”
“If I make too less, people won’t accept me.”
“It’s unsafe to rely on anyone but myself.”
“If I rest, everything will fall apart.”
“I don’t deserve more than just enough.”
Your Brain Doesn’t Know It’s About Money
The brain is wired for safety, not success.
So if your body associates money with fear, guilt, or unpredictability, even thinking about it can activate a stress response.
Opening your bank app may trigger anxiety, not because you’re irresponsible, but because your body remembers what it felt like to not have enough.
Saying no to over-giving may feel selfish, not because it is, but because you were taught your worth is in sacrifice.
Earning more might bring discomfort, not because you don’t want it, but because it threatens the identity you’ve had to survive with.
Your money behaviours - avoidance, control, overspending, underselling, giving too much - are often not about money.
They are about the emotional patterns that shaped you long before you had a bank account.
How This Shows Up in Daily Life
You feel guilty buying something for yourself, even when it’s well within your means.
You undercharge or hesitate to ask for what you’re worth.
You keep giving, and giving, and giving, then feel resentful, but don’t stop.
You earn well but still feel unsafe, like it could vanish any second.
You avoid budgeting because it brings up shame or panic.
This is not about weakness. It’s about wiring.
The nervous system holds onto the emotional imprint of money long after circumstances change.
What Does Healing Actually Look Like?
Not perfect money management. Not earning a certain amount. Not forcing yourself to budget when you’re spiralling in shame.
It begins with awareness without self-attack.
It looks like:
Noticing your emotional response when money comes in or goes out.
Naming the belief that just got triggered: “If I spend, I’ll be unsafe.”
Asking: Is this belief mine or inherited? Is it still true today?
Repeating, not forcing. Tiny, consistent acts of safety.
Letting your body know: This time, we’re allowed to feel okay.
It looks like holding yourself in compassion even when old fears whisper. It looks like learning that abundance doesn’t have to come at the cost of your peace.
Gentle Prompts, If You Feel Ready
What was my first memory of money and emotion tied together?
What unspoken lessons did I absorb in my home?
What do I feel I have to do to deserve financial ease?
What would it mean if stability no longer required overworking or under-asking?
A Little Something
You are not “bad” with money.
You’ve simply never been taught how to feel safe with it.
And the truth is, money holds so much more than numbers.
It holds your history, your identity, your survival, your hope.
So if it feels complicated, that’s because it is.
And that doesn’t make you broken. It makes you human.
Let this be your quiet permission:
You’re allowed to rewrite the story.
With more gentleness. More awareness. And less shame.
Not overnight. But slowly.
With softness, not spreadsheets.
With presence, not perfection.
You are not behind.
You’re just beginning to look beneath the surface.
And that, on its own, is a kind of wealth.
