Picture an October evening. For the third time this week, you open your shopping cart with a pair of winter boots. Good, warm, nothing fancy. You can afford them: you ran the numbers, and your budget can handle it. Your old boots started leaking last winter, and you spent all of March with cold feet.
Last week, you bought your son a winter coat. You didn’t think twice: he needs it, so he needs it. Over the weekend, you ordered your partner an anniversary gift. Easy. But now your finger hovers over “Place order.”
In your head: Maybe I can get one more winter out of the old ones? I’ll buy them in November, once this project wraps. Or wait for a sale. You close the tab. You feel relief, and something bitter at the same time, like you’ve once again told yourself no.
Two different accounts
Look closely, and for many women, money seems to sit in two separate accounts. One is for other people: kids, partner, parents, gifts, the household. Spending from it feels necessary. Whether your son has “earned” a coat never even comes up.
The second account is for you. And every purchase from it goes through a strict review. Do I really need this? Could I get it cheaper? Could it wait? And most of all: Have I done enough to deserve it?
The balance in both accounts might be the same. The difference is your permission to use it.
What switches on inside
At Clirium’s Magazine, we call this pattern earning it. It goes something like this: you have to earn the right to good things. The right to rest, once everything’s done. The right to be loved, once you’ve been useful. The right to spend on yourself, once you’ve worked hard enough.
In the moment of buying, this rule works almost invisibly. Not as the thought “I don’t deserve this,” but as perfectly reasonable points: “I can make do.” “It’s not urgent.” “Once I finish, then.” Each one sounds like common sense on its own. Together, they add up to one thing: for me, later.
The short-term relief makes sense. You didn’t spend, so you saved. No risk, nothing anyone could criticize. The worry that the money might be needed for something more important settles down.
The cost comes later, and quietly, too. Cold feet in March. The sense that in your own family, you’re always last in line. Sometimes, irritation with the people around you who spend on themselves easily. And an underlying fatigue: How much more do I have to do before it’s okay?
Why it happens
It’s especially important here not to turn everything into a pattern. Being frugal is often wise.
If your income is unpredictable, if you freelance, if you recently moved to a new country and aren’t sure what next year looks like, being careful with money is a sound strategy, not a problem. The same goes if you’re paying down debt, have obligations, or are saving toward something that matters.
Living through scarcity leaves a mark, too. If you remember times when there wasn’t enough for the basics, whether in childhood or in a hard stretch as an adult, your body may react to any spending on yourself as a threat, even when the threat is gone. That isn’t strange. It’s an understandable memory.
Sometimes it’s what you saw growing up. If your mother always bought for herself last and gave everyone else the best portion, that may have become your picture of what a “good” woman looks like.
And sometimes it’s about how you see your own income. If you earn less than your partner, or aren’t working right now, shared money may not feel fully yours, and spending it on yourself may feel awkward. That’s worth a separate conversation as a couple: contributions to a family aren’t only financial.
The pattern shows up when the money is there, the item is needed, the budget can handle it, and you still can’t give yourself permission. When, for anyone else, the answer would obviously be, “Of course you should buy it.”
A simple test
Imagine those boots aren’t for you but for a close friend. Same money, same budget, same leaky old pair. What would you tell her?
Most likely: “Just buy them. You’re not going to freeze for another winter.”
If the answer you’d give her and the answer you give yourself are that far apart, that’s the rule at work. Not common sense, but a double standard.
One step for tomorrow: one purchase, no conditions
Pick one small thing you actually need that fits your budget. Not a dream purchase, not something big. Something you need. New tights to replace the ones with a run. The good moisturizer you ran out of a month ago. Those boots, if you’ve already done the math.
Buy it without “once I finish,” “once I’ve earned it,” or “when it’s on sale.” Just because you need it.
Then notice the first thought that comes up after you pay. Maybe “That was a waste.” Maybe “Look at me, splurging.” Maybe unexpected relief. You don’t need to correct the thought. Just hear it. It can tell you a lot about the rule you’re living by, and whose voice it speaks in.
What might happen next
It may feel uncomfortable. The purchase may feel like breaking a rule, as if you took something that wasn’t yours. That feeling usually eases with repetition: not once, but a few times, in small steps.
Someone close to you might be surprised or make a joke. That doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.
Or you may notice something simple: you’re part of the family that needs looking after, too. Keeping your feet warm is also a way of taking care of your family.
A question for you
What would you have to do to feel you’ve “earned” this purchase? And who made that rule?
Read next:
- What Your Work Is Really Worth: How to Stop Undercharging
- If I Stop Being Useful, Will I Still Be Loved?
The scenes in this article are hypothetical. This article is not financial advice and is not a substitute for professional advice.
Common questions
Why do I feel guilty spending money on myself?
Often an “earn it first” rule is at work: you have to deserve good things. In the moment it sounds like common sense—“I can make do,” “It’s not urgent”—but together it adds up to “for me, later.”
How do I tell healthy frugality from a pattern?
If your income is unpredictable or you’re paying down debt, caution is wise. It’s a pattern when the money is there, you need the item, the budget can handle it, and you still can’t give yourself permission.
Where do I start?
Pick one thing you need that fits your budget, buy it without “once I’ve earned it,” and notice the first thought that comes up after you pay.
Have a story that could help another woman start over? We’d love to hear it.
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