From Financial Trauma to Financial Planner
Brené Brown once wrote, “Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it.” And man, am I tired of running. For most of my life, money has been a topic I’ve run from. It’s been a source of trauma and anxiety, rarely representing anything positive. When it did, it was usually just a temporary illusion I’d built to fool myself.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized there’s a thin line between the truth of your past and the stories you tell yourself to survive. I grew up in a financially volatile home. Any stability we had was temporary and came from an emotionally volatile stepfather. The day he and my mom split up when I was 12 is still one of the happiest days of my life.
After that, my brothers and I were raised by a single mother who had dropped out of high school. She did her best to shield us from the harsh realities of being on welfare, treating it like a family secret. She’d drive to grocery stores far outside our city limits just so no one we knew would see us using food stamps. She never said it, but I knew she was embarrassed. The lesson sunk in deep: your value is tied to your net worth. The constant was exhausting.
Despite her best efforts, I’d often come home from school to find the power or gas shut off. At 13, I was the one calling the utility companies, begging them to turn things back on so my mom wouldn't have to deal with it from work. We dealt with repossessed cars and eviction notices. Seeing the look of defeat on her face, even behind the smile she forced, became my motivation to never repeat that cycle.
And in a way, I didn't. I made it to legal adulthood and got my first credit card at 18. It felt like freedom in a little green piece of plastic. It had a $200 limit and I told myself it was “just for emergencies.” That lasted about two weeks. I still remember the first thing I bought: a blue and green striped shirt from Pacific Sunware for about $18. That single purchase kicked off an 18-year cycle of financial self-sabotage.
My money problems were officially adults, free to make their own mistakes. A strange conflict grew inside me. One part was a desperate kid trying to fill a void with binge shopping. The other was a responsible adult who knew better and refused to pay full price for anything, even if I could afford it. My spending habits swung wildly between the urge to spend everything and the need to hoard it all. Most of the time, spending won.
In 2019, I finally made my mental health a priority. I needed to bridge the gap between the person I thought I was and the person I actually am. Even with a successful career as a CERTIFIED FINANCIAL PLANNER™, a deep part of me still feels like that kid on welfare. I feel like I slipped through a hole in the gate and am just waiting for security to tell me I’m not tall enough for the ride.
It took me 13 years in the personal finance industry to understand why I was really here. I thought I knew, but I was wrong. I chose this business to help people create the life I never thought I’d have—one with a reliable car, a home I couldn’t be evicted from, and a sense of financial security. I thought I could experience it all secondhand through my clients, like playing dress-up with their lives. My career started as a passion project, a kind of that eventually became my purpose.
So this is my turnaround. This isn't a story about how I've perfected my finances. It’s an open letter to myself and anyone else who needs to hear that this stuff takes work. You have to figure out what’s truly important before you can take meaningful action. And sometimes, the best decisions don't make perfect sense on paper. This is a core part of how I approach and creatives, whose lives don't always fit into neat boxes.
Now, I try to guide my spending by making sure my dollars serve not just me, but others too. I donate to local grassroots organizations, buy gifts from businesses that provide job training to break cycles of homelessness, and desperately try to support small businesses over Amazon. I eat at local restaurants and tip well. I buy my craft beer from a mom-and-pop bottle shop. These small, conscious choices are my new .
As I’ve come to terms with my past, I know that my future self will thank me for not giving in to instant gratification. Understanding what I truly value has given me more control over my money. I’ll always root for the underdog and champion the hustle, because I know what that feels like. And I'll always be my clients' biggest cheerleader as they navigate their own stories.
