I came to financial education later than I wish I had
By the time I was in my late twenties, I was tired of feeling powerless when it came to money – of scraping by, of knowing I was capable of more but not knowing where to start. I’d spent most of that decade living wage to wage, cycling through jobs I didn’t love, just trying to stay afloat. The little money I had left after rent and bills often disappeared into impulse comforts: takeaways, mobile games, clothes and makeup I didn’t need but hoped would make me feel better for a while.
Like most people I know, I never received any meaningful kind of financial education. I left school with zero understanding of how taxes worked, what a pension was, or why saving and investing matter. I didn’t know how to budget, or how to even think about money beyond just spending it when I had it and worrying when I didn’t.
Most of the people I grew up around had also never been taught about money. They worked incredibly hard, but carried a kind of fear and inevitability about finances. Wealth was seen as something you either inherited or got lucky with. There were no conversations about about investing or building a future. I watched people make the best decisions they could in the moment, often driven by stress or scarcity, but rarely strategy.
My first money lessons came the hard way
Like many of us, university was my first taste of financial independence—and I struggled. I was handed a lump sum of student finance and expected to figure it out. I overspent on things I didn’t need, then ran out when it came to basics. I learned to stretch meals, navigate overdrafts, and feel the quiet panic of a low balance with rent due.
I took on low-paying part-time jobs with difficult hours and leaned on friends and family when things got too tight. There were moments of real embarrassment—like not having enough for groceries, or needing to ask for money to get through the month. Those experiences taught me something, yes – but not in a way that built confidence. They reinforced my fear and shame around money. They made me feel like I was bad at this, like I was destined to struggle.
That was my first real money education—not through school, but through stress. Through panic. Through making mistakes and learning the hard way.
I didn’t use money to build a better future. I just tried to feel better. I scrolled, I spent, I distracted myself. Because trying to untangle money felt too big, too hard, too far out of reach.
And after university, things didn’t improve. I entered the working world at the bottom of the ladder, with no real idea of what I wanted to do or what I was good at. Most of my salary disappeared into rent, bills, and basics. There was no more student loan safety net, no more grace period. Just work, sleep, repeat.
I hated the jobs I was doing, but didn’t know what I wanted, either. I moved between roles trying to find something that clicked, but often felt stuck. And in my downtime? I didn’t use money to build a better future. I just tried to feel better. I scrolled, I spent, I distracted myself. Because trying to untangle money felt too big, too hard, too far out of reach. I needed money to live, but also felt trapped by it. Trapped in a cycle that felt inescapable – of earning just to spend.
I carried this low-level money anxiety everywhere. The fear of a surprise bill. The quiet shame of asking for help. The sense that everyone else had it figured out, and I was the only one barely holding it together.
The turning point
It wasn’t one big moment—it was more of a slow, quiet realisation around the age of 27: I don’t want to live like this anymore.
I wanted to feel safe. I wanted more freedom, to stop spinning my wheels and start building something that felt meaningful, something that gave me choices. I’d grown a small amount of savings years before that I’d spent on things I barely remembered. But now, with a modest amount saved again—and a sum I’d received after the loss of a family friend—I felt a deeper sense of responsibility.
This time, I didn’t want to waste it. I wanted to understand money, really understand it. I wanted to use it wisely. I wanted to build a life where money supported me, instead of constantly working against me – so I started learning.
The beginning of Relearning Money
I started reading books on personal finance—especially the beginner-friendly stuff, the non-judgmental voices. I taught myself about budgeting, compound growth, investing, pensions, and how tax actually works. I also started thinking more intentionally about work. I invested in training to build new skills and explored career paths that aligned more with who I was and what I was good at. I started tracking where my money was going, even if I didn’t initially like what I saw.
I didn’t get it all right, but I got better. I started feeling more capable, more clear-headed, and—maybe most importantly—less ashamed.
And once I started feeling more in control, other things began to shift too. I felt more confident in work. I made better decisions. I started imagining a future that felt bigger than just “making it to payday.”
I also realised that the financial system is confusing on purpose. That it’s not my fault I didn’t know. That money is emotional, and tied up in identity, class, shame, fear, survival, and self-worth. And yet, it’s also incredibly learnable.
I don’t think anyone should have to wait until they’re burnt out and desperate to understand how money works. You shouldn’t have to dig through toxic hustle culture or influencer scams to learn how to build stability and confidence.
Why I started Relearning Money
This website exists because I don’t think anyone should have to wait until they’re burnt out and desperate to understand how money works. You shouldn’t have to dig through toxic hustle culture or influencer scams to learn how to build stability and confidence.
Money is emotional. It’s tied to our habits, our fears, our identities. But it doesn’t have to control us. You don’t need to be a CEO or gamble everything on crypto to finally feel financially secure. You just need a starting point. A different kind of conversation. A shame-free space to relearn what money can look like – in a way that’s honest, human, and sustainable.
Because money isn’t just numbers. It’s safety, power, and choice. And once you start to understand it, everything else starts to change.
