When Spending Money on Yourself Feels Wrong

A couple of weeks ago, I gathered with a few girlfriends for a weeknight picnic at a park in our town. It was a glorious way to celebrate one of the last evenings of fall before snow began to blanket our town.

One of those friends has recently gone back to work after a seven year break from her career, and she was lamenting her struggles in taking on a new gig while still showing up in her mom/wife/household manager role. Over a decade ago, she had built a highly profitable business and eventually sold it. It was a good deal for her and her family, and the payout allowed her to take a much-needed break. Actually, the payout allows her to retire completely, so we pressed her a little about this:

"Do you really need this job, if it's making your life feel like too much?"

"Not really, I guess. But I hate spending money when I don't make it."

Right when she said it I related 100%. The funny thing is that she's not someone you'd consider a "non-spender." She (and her husband) spend pretty big on vacations, cars, their home, and more. And yet, I often hear her talk about being reluctant to have a fitness membership because it's so expensive, or take a solo trip because of the cost.

We all have baggage when it comes to spending money. Some of us may feel impulsive, with no guardrails on our spending, no matter the type; others swing completely the other way and fail to relax their saving in a way that allows them to enjoy their life; many of us can identify in all the places in between.

When I think about my own behaviors, I can relate to my friend because it's easy for me to spend when I'm calling it a family expense: large bills at the grocery, household supplies, sports clubs, camps, etc. When it comes to expenses that I've internally labeled as an indulgence for myself, the spending doesn't come without intense guilt. Even when I do make the purchase, it's not often without useless hours of research and analysis.

This very recent example makes me chuckle, sort of. Earlier this month, I bought a new car. Buying a new car is never an easy process, but this one wasn't all that painful. I went to the dealership, spent several hours waiting and filling out paper work, then I drove it home.

Then this week, we came home from a trip to find that our very old coffee maker had finally croaked. I've wanted an espresso machine for a long time, so I saw this as my window of opportunity. Ryan is excited by the idea of having a fancier coffee machine, but the espresso function is "my splurge." Or, that's the story that's in my head anyway. I don't care to admit the number of hours I've wasted this week researching the best all-in-one espresso and coffee machine to buy. When I found it, it took me even more time to commit to buying it. In my head, it's a splurge that reflects badly on me. But, it's an appliance we can afford, and that we'll use several times every. single. day. And yes, the taste of espresso absolutely brings me joy. All of these attributes make the espresso machine one of those "just buy the damn thing" purchases. But I still couldn't do that.

You've heard me say before that our money stories are responsible for making us feel a certain way about how we should or shouldn't spend money. These stories are largely written by experiences that shaped our childhood and early adulthood. And they're also heavily influenced by our culture. We are only barely (and in some cases not at all) removed from the time when women were expected to take care of the home and be resourceful AF. Without paychecks, stretching the dollar was what women had to work with, and understandably there was, and still is, a lot of pride in that. But is that pride what inhibits our ability to spend more on ourselves? Or, to flip that statement: is that pride what squashes our enjoyment and makes us feel like we need to take on more work, or research an item to death, in order to be OK with buying the occasional splurge?

We all have to question our money stories and make sure that the beliefs we have are serving us. Many of those beliefs can have initial benefit, while doing overall harm. In my case, and I suspect this to be true in the case of my friend as well, my deep-rooted belief that to live up to my womanhood means self-sacrificing and stretching my dollar, might have served me just a tiny bit when I was more die-hard in my frugality in my 20s. But the much larger consequence of that belief is that I don't feel worthy of bigger purchases that are just for me.

Understanding our money stories help us peel back the onion to uncover why we might feel the way we feel. Once we get there, we are more likely to give ourselves grace. And maybe, that will invite us to get rid of some guilt or shame, or shave hours (or days!) off of our future spending decisions.