Advice To Women Who Have Money Issues – Write a Letter

Last updated on July 28th, 2022 at 05:09 pm

This week I received a virtual kick in the patootie toward my big dream of financial mastery. I wrote a two-part Dear Money letter based on the inspiration of best-selling author, personal development teacher, and the Worthy Project money coach, Meadow DeVor. Meadow suggests you write a letter to your money to get clear about your relationship with it.

Note: This is part 1 of a two-part series. Part 2 is here.

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Dear Money,

Get out. Really, I mean it. I am sick and tired of my life with you in it. And just to prove it to you, let me count the ways:

1. You’ve never loved me.

Don’t try to argue with me, not that you would even bother. Oh sure, you’re always around when times are good, but the minute I need something from you, poof. You’re gone. I know, I know: I’m a big girl and perfectly capable of solving my own problems.

I don’t “need” you for that. But I got into a relationship with you because I don’t want to have to do everything on my own. A little help here? But no. Just when I need you–like that time the garage door fell to a heap – where the heck was you? Nowhere, that’s where. The neighbors are still talking about it.

2. You’ve got a big, big problem with commitment.

I’ve told you at least 100 times that I want it all. I want you in my life all the time – not just sometimes when it works for you. You don’t say no, but you don’t say yes. You just smile that enigmatic smile, leave your toothbrush in my medicine cabinet, and then wander in and out of my life exactly as you please.

I swear you have some kind of mysterious formula that I can’t figure out. Six days on and two days off? I wish you’d spare me the detective work and just tell me so we can get on with life.

3. You do not understand me.

No, it’s worse than that. You don’t care enough to understand me. Okay, so I’m a little complicated. Sometimes I’m even contradictory. I’m fine with used clothes and second-hand sofas from the thrift store.

But no, I’m not going to cheap out on food. Sure, I’m happy making my own coffee instead of going to Starbucks every morning, but you won’t catch me buying my coffee beans from any grocery store. In other words, yes, I’m cheap; and no, I’m not. It’s really not that hard to figure me out if you’d just talk to me once in a while.

4. You are way too good-looking for me.

I can tell that people are wondering what you’re doing with me when you could have anyone you want. And no, that does not make me want to shape up. It makes me resent you. It makes me feel like such a loser that you’re so gorgeous and I’m so… plain. And that’s on a good day.

5. Also, I can see myself in your eyes. It’s not pretty.

I like it better when I have no earthly idea what I look like. That way I don’t have to take responsibility. Unfortunately, every time I look at you, I realize there’s spinach between my teeth, or my hair is sticking up in the back, or I’ve got a big ugly wart on my chin, with long black hair growing out of it.

It’s gotten to the point where I just don’t look at you anymore because I don’t like what I see in your reflection. So you might as well just get out of my sight.

6. Worst of all, I really can’t stand myself when I’m with you.

Relationships are supposed to be uplifting. They’re supposed to make both parties better together than they would be alone. But when you’re with me, I think you’re the same cold, unfeeling loner you are when you’re anywhere else.

And me–I’m worse when I’m with you, and a better person when I’m without you. With you, I’m always worried if you love me. Did I do the right thing? Say the right thing? Does this dress make me look fat? Without you, I never think about stuff like that. I’m done. The insecurity is killing me.

Here’s what it boils down to. I’ve given you the best years of my life. I’ve slaved for you. I’ve done things I’m not proud of just to keep you in my life. I’ve let you lie around the house all day and go out on the town all night. I’ve put up with you disappearing for months and years at a time, and I’ve always let you come back. Not to mention I’ve cleaned up after you more times than I can count.

So, starting today, I want you to leave. The dream was good while it lasted, but I’m not seeing any progress. Pack up and get out. Or wait–maybe I’ll just throw all your stuff out on the lawn and get the locks changed. Here’s a one-way bus ticket to Bismarck, don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.

Love,

Jayne