I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. There’s a quiet kind of spending that doesn’t look reckless. It doesn’t scream for help. It fits neatly into pretty receipts and soft, pastel packaging. It’s emotional spending self-care, technically. But also… not really.
It’s the kind of spending we do when we’re this close to falling apart—but still determined to hold it together. I’ve been there so many times, I’ve lost count.
A woman I’ll call Erin messaged me last week. She’s 41, a marketing manager, earning $65,000 from Chicago, a mom of two, and the kind of person who shows up for everyone else.
And she wrote:
“I spent $267 this weekend trying to feel like myself again.
I kept saying I deserved it. But now I’m spiraling.”
What followed wasn’t a shopping spree. It was a survival budget. Wrapped in foam, brunch, and the hope that something—anything—might make her feel okay again.
Here’s how her weekend played out:
💳 Friday
- $14 — Lavender latte before therapy
“I hadn’t gone in three weeks. I needed something gentle to get through it.”
She sat in the car for a minute before going in, sipping from a cup that said “you’re doing great” in a font that felt like a lie. She posted it to her Story with a caption: #mentalhealthmoment. Then she cried for 45 minutes during the session and apologized for doing so. I find this so relatable. It’s the kind of moment we don’t talk about often, but really should.
💆🏻 Saturday
- $109 — Facial
- $78 — Serum for her “damaged skin barrier”
“This is cheaper than Botox,” she joked at checkout.
She’d booked it because the kids were with their dad and she needed a reset. Midway through, the esthetician suggested a scalp massage to help “release stored tension.” She agreed immediately.
Ultimately, the serum was presented as a solution at the end of her facial.
“I don’t even know what a skin barrier is,” she told me,
“But apparently mine needed rescuing.”
She bought it. Then sat in the car with the door open, wondering if $78 was the price of feeling like she was doing something. She thought about going back in and returning it because she could think of a million other ways to spend that money. But, she didn’t.
🥂 Sunday
- $42 — Brunch with a friend
- $24 — Bottle of red wine she saw on TikTok
“It said it was for women with too many tabs open.”
She wasn’t even hungry. She just wanted to laugh with someone who didn’t need anything from her. Afterward, she walked into a boutique wine shop that smelled of eucalyptus and was aesthetically overwhelming. She bought the wine for the label. For the story. For the feeling of maybe this will help.
🧾 The Full Receipt:
- $14 — Lavender latte
- $187 — Facial + serum
- $66 — Brunch + wine
- Total: $267
“It’s not that I regret the money,” she said.
“It’s that I still think I have to spend it to earn a break.”
That line sat with me all day because I’ve done it too.
I’ve bought the pretty thing, the wellness thing, the “new chapter” thing. Not because I needed it. But because I didn’t know how to say: I’m tired. I need a minute. I want someone else to hold the weight for a while. That’s what I find fascinating about the emotional side of money. All you hear are stories of massive debt and shame around spending money, but there’s a story behind all of it that is raw, real, and so relatable.
My version? A $24 highlighter set, a $78 candle, and a new robe that I told myself would reset my nervous system. Spoiler: It didn’t. But it gave me a moment. And sometimes a moment feels like a lifeline.
Erin didn’t buy brunch and a serum. She bought space. She bought a break from being everything to everyone. She purchased the softest form of survival she could get without disappearing.
This wasn’t indulgence. This was maintenance. This was her version of keeping the engine running without totally breaking down on the side of the road.
We don’t talk about this kind of spending enough—the kind that doesn’t feel reckless or wild, just necessary. A little lonely. And so, so human.
The receipts always show up before the breakdown.
And if you’ve ever wondered why you keep doing this, let me just say: You’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re just tired of asking for what you need in a language no one taught you.
P.S. She still hasn’t opened the wine. She’s saving it for when her skin barrier heals, the kids stop fighting, and capitalism collapses. So… maybe next Thursday?
Money Q & A
Before we wrapped up our conversation, I asked Erin a few of the same questions I’ve been asking strangers for my Money Out Loud: Street Edition series. Her answers were raw, a little funny, and quietly heartbreaking in the way only real honesty can be.
Here’s what she told me:
If I gave you $5 right now, how would you spend it—without guilt or shame?
→ “A cookie from that overpriced bakery downtown that I love. They have the best oatmeal cookie I’ve ever had, and I find myself going out of the way to drive by and give myself an excuse to stop.”
What’s your biggest money fear?
→ “That I’ll work my whole life and never feel free. That, and that money will never be enough. I guess I’m wondering if anyone ever really feels free from money worries.”
If your bank account could talk, what would it say to you?
→ “Wow, this is a hard one. If I’m going to be honest, probably something like, you know, we can look at each other more than once a month, right?”
What’s something you wish you knew more about money?
→ “How to spend without spiraling. I make pretty good money, but I’m always left digging into my savings account each month to pay for everything.”
How was money talked about in your house growing up?
→ “It wasn’t. Money showed up like a storm—suddenly and with consequences. I learned to fear money, and it’s always felt like a big secret. My parents either overspent and we felt the consequences, or they underspent and we felt deprived. There was never a happy medium.”
The Tab Still Open
📍 Asheville friends! I’m doing something totally original, a little magical, and very me on June 8th at Story Parlor: Money, Mess + Magic is part storytelling, part live theater, part “what just happened but I loved it.” We’re talking receipts, money shame, reinvention, and folding regret into origami (literally).
✨ Get tickets here before they’re gone.
📚 Book Giveaway!
I’m giving away 5 copies of Unraveling Your Relationship With Money to 5 readers who reply to this post with a money confession. Tell me the last thing you bought to feel better. Doesn’t matter if it worked—I want to hear the why. I’ll pick winners Friday.
🎥 Come hang on IG + TikTok this week—
I’m hitting the streets for Money Out Loud: Street Edition, asking real people real money questions (in exchange for $5 and zero judgment). It’s messy. It’s moving. It’s fun as hell. I’m on TikTok too.
Follow @shannahgame
🎧 Free audio series alert:
If you haven’t grabbed it yet, Bank Account Therapy is my 4-day audio reset for your relationship with money. It’s totally free, and people have said it’s “weirdly soothing and also made me cry in the best way.”
Get it here.
🧁 And yes, I’m still baking cupcakes. No, they’re not metaphorical.
Stay tuned.
