I was making more money than I’d ever made in my life, and I was still broke.
Not broke in the “I can barely afford groceries” way—although I’d been there too. Broke in the “where did all the money go?” way. The kind where you look at your bank account and feel sick because somehow, despite working constantly, despite earning decent money, there’s nothing left. Again.
And worse than being broke was the crushing weight of responsibility. The belief that I had to support everyone. That if I didn’t work harder, earn more, sacrifice more, my family would suffer. That their financial well-being was entirely on my shoulders.
So I worked harder. I took on more projects. I said yes to everything. I pushed myself to exhaustion trying to earn enough to finally feel secure. To finally have enough. To finally stop worrying.
But no matter how much I made, it was never enough. Because the money would disappear almost as fast as it came in. I’d spend impulsively, not even on things I really wanted. I’d help family members financially even when I couldn’t afford it. I’d accumulate debt trying to solve immediate problems, only to create bigger problems down the line.
And underneath it all was this belief I couldn’t shake: that I had to work hard to deserve money. That struggle was the price of survival. That I was responsible for everyone and everything, and if I stopped working myself to the bone, everything would fall apart.
I thought my money problems were about money. About not making enough, not budgeting well enough, not being disciplined enough with spending.
But I was wrong. My money problems had nothing to do with money. They had everything to do with the beliefs I’d been carrying since childhood about what I deserved, what I was worth, and what I was responsible for.
And until I addressed those beliefs—until I healed the wounds underneath them—no amount of money I made was ever going to feel like enough.
The Belief That Kept Me Trapped
“I have to work hard.”
I didn’t even realize this was a belief. I thought it was just… the truth. The way life works. You work hard, you earn money. You don’t work hard, you don’t deserve anything.
But somewhere along the way, this belief had twisted into something much more damaging: I have to struggle to be worthy of money. If it comes easily, it’s not real. If I’m not exhausted, I’m not working hard enough. If I’m not sacrificing, I’m being selfish.
This belief drove everything. It kept me in a constant state of overwork and burnout. It made me say yes to every opportunity, even ones that drained me, because turning down work felt like turning down survival. It made me feel guilty any time I rested, any time I spent money on myself, any time I wasn’t actively grinding.
And the cruel irony? Working myself to exhaustion didn’t actually lead to financial security. Because the harder I worked, the more burned out I became. And the more burned out I became, the more I spent money trying to soothe that exhaustion. Quick meals because I was too tired to cook. Impulse purchases to make myself feel better. Little treats to reward myself for working so hard.
The money I was killing myself to earn was leaking out through a thousand small holes created by stress and exhaustion.
But I couldn’t stop. Because stopping felt like failing. Like proving that I wasn’t good enough. Like letting everyone down.
The Weight of Being the Family’s Provider
The other belief that destroyed my relationship with money: “I have to support my family.”
This one ran even deeper than the work belief. Because it came wrapped in love and duty and responsibility. How could I question it? Family takes care of family. If I have the ability to help, I should help.
But what started as helping had become something else entirely. It had become an expectation. A burden. A weight that made it impossible to ever feel financially secure no matter how much I earned.
Every time I started to get ahead, someone would need help. And I’d give it, because that’s what I was supposed to do. Even if it meant going into debt myself. Even if it meant sacrificing my own financial stability. Even if it meant never building anything for my own future.
And the worst part? I resented it. I loved my family, but I resented the constant financial responsibility. I resented feeling like I could never say no. I resented that my siblings or relatives could make choices without worrying about money because they knew I’d be there to help, while I carried all the stress alone.
But I felt guilty for resenting it. What kind of person resents helping their family? What kind of selfish, ungrateful person puts their own financial security above family need?
So I pushed the resentment down and kept giving. Kept working harder to earn more so I could support everyone. Kept telling myself that their needs were more important than mine.
And I stayed broke. Because I was trying to fill everyone else’s cup while mine stayed empty.
The Spending That Made No Sense
Here’s what nobody tells you about money stress: it makes you spend more, not less.
I knew I shouldn’t be spending money I didn’t have. I knew the debt was a problem. I knew I needed to save. But I couldn’t stop.
I’d see something—usually something small, nothing extravagant—and I’d buy it without thinking. Not because I needed it. Not even because I wanted it that badly. But because buying something gave me a brief hit of dopamine. A momentary feeling of having control. A fleeting sense that I could have nice things even though my financial life was chaos.
The spending was never planned. It was impulsive. Emotional. A way of soothing the constant anxiety and stress I felt about money.
Which is insane when you think about it. I was spending money to cope with the stress of not having money. I was making the problem worse while trying to make myself feel better.
But in the moment, buying something felt good. It felt like power. Like choice. Like maybe I wasn’t completely failing at life if I could still afford this thing, whatever it was.
Of course, the good feeling lasted maybe five minutes. Then came the guilt. The regret. The self-hatred. “Why did I buy that? Why can’t I just be responsible? What’s wrong with me?”
And then I’d feel more stressed, which would make me want to spend again to escape that stress. The cycle was vicious and self-perpetuating.
I tried all the usual advice. Budgets. Spending trackers. Freezing my credit cards. Waiting 24 hours before buying anything. None of it worked for long because I was trying to control the behavior without addressing the emotions driving it.
The spending wasn’t the problem. The stress, the beliefs, the emotional pain underneath—that was the problem. And until I addressed that, no amount of budgeting was going to help.
Where These Beliefs Came From
It took me a long time to understand where these beliefs originated. I thought they were just… mine. Random thoughts I happened to have. Bad habits I’d somehow developed.
But beliefs don’t come out of nowhere. They’re formed in childhood, reinforced through experience, and carried into adulthood where they run in the background, shaping every financial decision we make.
The “I have to work hard” belief came from watching my parents struggle. Money was always tight. There was never enough. And the message I absorbed, though no one said it directly, was: life is hard, money is scarce, and you have to fight for every bit of security you can get.
I learned that struggle was normal. Expected. The price of survival. I learned that if you weren’t working yourself to exhaustion, you weren’t doing enough. I learned that rest was a luxury we couldn’t afford.
That belief got wired so deep that even as an adult, even when I was making decent money, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to keep struggling. That if things got too easy, it would all fall apart. That I hadn’t earned security unless I was suffering for it.
The “I have to support my family” belief came from a similar place. My family relied on each other because we had to. There wasn’t enough to go around, so we shared what we had. That’s survival. That’s love.
But it became something less healthy when it extended into adulthood. When it meant I couldn’t say no. When it meant my financial well-being was always secondary to everyone else’s. When it meant I was drowning trying to keep everyone else afloat.
I’d internalized the message that my worth came from being useful. From providing. From sacrificing myself for others. And if I stopped doing that—if I prioritized my own financial security—I was selfish. Ungrateful. Bad.
These beliefs were survival strategies when I was young. They helped me navigate a world where money was scarce and family was everything.
But they didn’t serve me anymore. They were keeping me trapped in patterns that ensured I’d always struggle financially, no matter how much I made.
The Moment Everything Shifted
The breakthrough came during what should have been a good moment.
I’d just gotten paid for a big project. More money than I usually made in a month. I should have felt excited, relieved, proud.
Instead, I felt anxious. Panicked, even.
Because I immediately started thinking about who needed help. Who I should give money to. What problems I needed to solve. The debt I needed to pay down. The bills that were overdue.
Within hours of getting paid, the money was already spent in my mind. Already allocated to everyone and everything except me.
And I realized: I will never feel financially secure if I keep doing this. It doesn’t matter how much I make. It will never be enough because I don’t believe I deserve to keep it.
That realization was devastating. But it was also liberating. Because for the first time, I could see the pattern clearly. It wasn’t about the money. It was about the beliefs.
I didn’t believe I deserved financial security. I believed I had to struggle. I believed I had to sacrifice myself for everyone else. I believed that keeping money for myself was selfish.
And until I changed those beliefs, nothing else would change.
How Tapping Helped Me Rewrite My Money Story
I started using FasterEFT tapping to work on my money beliefs. And I’m not exaggerating when I say it changed everything.
I began by tapping on the specific moments that had shaped my beliefs about money. Childhood memories of hearing my parents argue about bills. Times when I’d felt ashamed of not having money. Moments when I’d learned that my worth came from providing for others.
I’d tap through each memory, acknowledging the feelings that came with it. The fear. The shame. The belief that I had to struggle to deserve anything.
And as I tapped, these memories lost their emotional charge. They became just things that happened, not defining moments that proved something terrible about me or about money.
I also tapped directly on the beliefs themselves:
“I have to work hard to deserve money. If it comes easily, it’s not real. I don’t deserve to have financial security unless I’m suffering for it.”
“I have to support everyone. If I don’t, they’ll suffer and it’ll be my fault. My needs don’t matter as much as theirs.”
“I can’t keep money. It always has to go somewhere else. I’m not allowed to have financial security.”
Just tapping on these statements while acknowledging how deeply I believed them started to shift something. The beliefs began to soften. They became less like absolute truths and more like old programming that could be questioned.
I worked on the guilt I felt about prioritizing my own financial well-being. The fear that if I stopped struggling, I’d lose my worth. The anxiety about what would happen if I said no to family members who needed help.
Each session of tapping peeled back another layer. Released another old wound. Created a little more space for a new story about money.
What Changed (And What’s Still Changing)
I’m not going to tell you I’m completely healed or that I never struggle with money beliefs anymore. That would be a lie.
But things are dramatically different now.
I don’t work myself to exhaustion anymore. I say no to projects that don’t serve me. I’ve learned that I can earn good money without suffering for it. That struggle isn’t a prerequisite for worthiness.
I’ve set boundaries with family. I help when I genuinely can, but I don’t sacrifice my own financial security to do it. And surprisingly, the sky didn’t fall. They adapted. They respected the boundaries once I was clear about them.
I’ve dramatically reduced my impulsive spending. Not through willpower or strict budgets, but by addressing the stress and emotions that were driving it. When I’m not constantly anxious about money, I don’t need to spend to soothe that anxiety.
I’m paying down debt steadily. Not because I’m depriving myself, but because I’m not creating new debt every month. The leak has been plugged.
Most importantly, my relationship with money has fundamentally changed. Money doesn’t feel like this scarce, anxiety-inducing thing anymore. It feels more neutral. A tool. Something I can have a healthy relationship with.
I’m not saying I’m rich or that all my financial problems are solved. But I’m not trapped in the old patterns anymore. I’m not controlled by beliefs that ensured I’d always struggle.
That freedom is worth more than any amount of money.
The Training That Taught Me All of This
I learned how to use tapping for money mindset from Robert Gene Smith’s Mind Over Money training.
This program is specifically designed to address the emotional and psychological blocks that keep people trapped in financial struggle. Not budgeting advice or investment strategies—deep healing of the beliefs and wounds that sabotage your financial success.
The training covers:
- How childhood experiences shape your money beliefs
- Why you might self-sabotage when you start making money
- How to release the guilt and shame around money
- Specific tapping protocols for different money blocks
- How to change your relationship with money at a nervous system level
What I appreciated most was that Robert understood something crucial: your money problems aren’t really about money. They’re about unhealed wounds, limiting beliefs, and nervous system dysregulation.
You can’t budget or hustle your way out of those problems. You have to heal them. And that’s exactly what the training helps you do.
If you’re struggling with money mindset issues—if you feel like you’re trapped in patterns you can’t break, if you work hard but never get ahead, if money feels like a source of constant stress—I highly recommend checking out Mind Over Money [AFFILIATE LINK].
They also offer a free 5-day introduction to FasterEFT [AFFILIATE LINK] if you want to start with the basics and see if tapping resonates with you.
You Deserve Financial Peace
I spent so many years believing I didn’t deserve to feel secure with money. That struggle was my lot in life. That I was meant to sacrifice myself for everyone else’s well-being.
But I was wrong. And if you believe those things about yourself, you’re wrong too.
You deserve to feel financially secure. You deserve to earn money without suffering for it. You deserve to keep some of what you make instead of giving it all away.
Your worth isn’t determined by how hard you struggle. Your value isn’t measured by how much you sacrifice yourself for others.
You can have financial peace. You can break the patterns that have kept you trapped. You can heal your relationship with money.
It’s not about making more money, though that might happen as a side effect. It’s about changing the beliefs that ensure you’ll always struggle, no matter how much you make.
That healing is possible. I’m living proof.
And if I can do it—someone who was convinced that struggle was just my destiny, who couldn’t imagine a life without financial stress—then so can you.
Medical & Professional Disclaimer: I am not a medical doctor, licensed therapist, counselor, or qualified financial professional. The content and information provided throughout this website and within this article are intended strictly for educational and informational purposes only. This material should not under any circumstances be interpreted or utilized as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, treatment, mental health counseling, or professional financial planning and legal counsel. Always consult with a certified healthcare provider or qualified professional regarding any specific physical, mental, or financial concerns you may have.
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