RAGS TO RICHES | Why I Write About Money
Two years ago, I published the first ever Rags to Riches on Probably Relevant. I’d been on my personal finance learning journey for a little over a year and I was learning a ton of new stuff and really killing it with the jargon. I could now use terms like P/E Ratio and CAGR confidently (though not necessarily correctly) in a sentence. So writing a blog felt like the best use case for my new found skill. I thought it would be cool to share the things that I was learning. Help other people who felt clueless about personal finance stuff realise it wasn’t that hard. Money was easy peasy lemon breezy and since I was nailing it, so should everyone else!
At least that’s what I told myself on the surface. To my editor (hi Hina!), I made another elaborate spiel about the importance of simplifying personal finance to make it more accessible. And while I truly do believe that, there was another underlying reason why I really wanted to write about money. Money makes me very uncomfortable.
For a long time, I thought my discomfort with money stemmed from a lack of it. I was always anxious about not having enough or running out entirely. Then, I began to think it was ignorance that fueled my fears. I didn’t understand money, so it scared me. I would look at people in my peer group who seemingly had a handle on their finances with awe and envy. To me, they exuded this effortless coolness; like they just knew what they were doing and nothing could rattle them. And I wanted to feel like that, so I began learning. That helped a little, but I was still feeling like I was winging it most of the time. So, as that old saying goes: those who can’t do, preach. I began to write about personal finance telling people how to be at peace with their money by simplifying it, while feeling nothing like it myself.
Writing Rags to Riches really worked for me for a while. I was projecting a confidence I didn’t always feel through my blog and slowly, I was beginning to feel better about my relationship with money. I felt more confident, I was feeling more secure and honestly, at points, I was even getting a little bit cocky. Fake it till you make it much?
Yet despite all of the work I was putting in to better my relationship with money, that old sense of unease would keep creeping back up. Every now and again I’d find myself back in a spiral of stress and anxiety.
After two years of writing this blog, and researching a ton of other material put together by people far more qualified and experienced than me, I’ve come to the realisation that at the core of it, money makes everyone uncomfortable. It’s this weird benchmark for success and comparison that is so tangible, yet we’re so guarded about the specifics that it makes it extremely intangible to truly quantify. We’re allowed to flex our wealth in subtle and very unsubtle ways, social media has made this more prominent than ever before. So we’re constantly in a position to make comparisons, basing those on overt displays of wealth. Yet we’re never privy to the inner workings of how those spends were made possible.
When money is the benchmark for ‘doing well’ and ‘being successful’, it makes it even more natural for us to constantly compare ourselves and feel like we’re falling short. It doesn’t matter how abundant your life may be, there’s always someone ‘doing better’ and you’re always aware of that through the little direct and indirect flexes. Couple that up with the translucent nature of money, where you always know that someone is well off, yet you never really know exactly how well off - it’s a great recipe to keep stirring up that constant discomfort.
One of the best things that has happened for me as a result of writing Rags to Riches, is coming across other financial blogs that write about money simply of course, but also with a great deal of empathy. And the big benefit of these, is that I’ve begun to see through people’s superficial relationships with money. As uncomfortable as I’ve felt around money, as inadequate as it made me feel so often - I also began to see the signs of that in others. When things improve, there is a need to let people know ever so slightly. I’m honestly guilty of having done this too. But I definitely think it’s something to be aware of. The need to flex with anything is often a sign of unease. If you’re at ease with something, you don’t feel the need to prove to the world how good you have it.
So is there really any way to ever move past it? Understanding money better clearly doesn’t help one move past those feelings of anxiety. Writing about it doesn’t either, in case anyone wanted to give that a try. Manifesting feelings of abundance, while definitely helpful, isn’t foolproof either.
I’m the first person to cop to the idea that having money is good and it is something everyone should aspire to. Money is important, there’s no getting around it and anyone who tells you otherwise isn’t really looking out for you. But I do think that at the core of it, everyone lives with a sense of unease around money. Those who have it, those who don’t have it, those who ‘get it’ and those who think a net worth is the price of going fishing. I don’t think anyone is immune to this side effect. I’m pretty sure at some point during these wedding celebrations, Mukesh Ambani’s tummy did a little back flip as someone ran him the numbers.
The other thing I now know is that nobody gets it. Not even the ones who are really supposed to get it. Everyone’s winging it and trying to figure it out, going by the best of the knowledge that they have.
And this is why I write about money. Because it’s the only way past my anxieties. I write to educate myself and in the hope that someone reading this finds some comfort in these blogs. If you’re feeling anxious about money, if money management stresses you out - take heart in knowing that you’re not alone. Keep at it. And when it all feels too much, just take a step back, cocoon at home for a few days and come back. We’re all in the same boat, even those of us writing on it with great authority. We’re all just figuring it out.