Image by Dall E
Making Good Money, Still Broke
I remember standing at a gas pump, my debit card flashing “DECLINED” on the screen. I tried it again. Same result.
What the hell? I was making six figures. Six. Figures.
And I couldn’t buy gas to get to work.
I sat in my car for a minute, doing that familiar mental scramble—checking account balances on my phone, trying to figure out what had cleared early, what bill I’d forgotten about. The math that should have been simple but somehow never was.
That moment crystallized something I’d been trying to ignore: how much money you make isn’t always the answer. Because even with a good salary, I was still living that same anxious dance I’d known when we made much less.
Check the Balance Before the Groceries
I used to sit in grocery store parking lots, staring at our bank account balance.
Not because I didn’t know what was there—I did. But I’d check anyway. Twice.
Before I unbuckled. Before I grabbed my keys. I’d sit in the car, doing quiet math in my head: what’s essential, what can wait, what happens if that bill clears early.
It wasn’t the first time I’d done this. It had become routine—checking the balance before grabbing a cart. Not because we were careless with money. Not because we were overspending. Just because things cost more, and even with that decent paycheck, groceries felt like walking into a test I hadn’t studied for—even though I’d been preparing all week.
This wasn’t panic. It was something slower than that. Heavier.
It was the mental load of wondering: Can we cover what we need this time?
It wasn’t dramatic. Just constant.
And honestly, I was tired of grocery trips feeling like high-stakes decisions.
When One Thing Breaks, Everything Does
The dashboard warning light was the worst. Not because of what it meant for the car, but because of what it meant for everything else.
When you’re already running at capacity—when the budget is stretched as thin as it can go—one unexpected expense doesn’t just hit your wallet. It hits your sleep. Your mood. Your ability to focus at work. Your patience with your kids.
A $300 car repair becomes the thing that might finally break you. Not because you can’t technically find $300 somewhere, but because finding it means something else doesn’t get paid. Or the grocery budget gets cut even thinner. Or you dip into the small emergency fund you’ve been slowly building.
It’s the cascade effect. One thing breaks, and suddenly everything feels fragile.
That warning light meant math. Always math. Constant, exhausting mental calculations about what could wait, what couldn’t, and whether this was the month we’d finally have to ask family for help.
The Lie I Believed
Here’s the biggest lie I told myself during those years: There’s no point in saving such a small amount.
My dad used to say, “Pay yourself first, son.” And I’d think, Dad, I can’t afford to pay myself. If I save anything, someone else doesn’t get paid.
But the deeper truth was this: I didn’t think the little bit I could afford to save would make any real difference. So we didn’t save anything.
Not until I didn’t know what else to do.
We started saving $6.25 a week. That’s what we could manage. Twenty-five dollars a month. Three hundred dollars a year.
It felt ridiculous. Like trying to fill a swimming pool with a teaspoon.
But you know what? More than once, that little bit made the difference.
The $6.25 shift showed me that money clarity doesn’t start with math—it starts with mindset. If you want quick relief, I put together a one-page guide with 10 simple mindset shifts that will carry you through the Before the Budget series. I’ll send it straight to your inbox so you always have it handy. Grab it here and start your own clarity reset today.
Quick tip: If it’s not in your inbox soon, check your junk folder — the first email can land there by mistake.
The $6.25 Revolution
That first time we had an unexpected expense and actually had some money set aside to handle it—even if it was just $50—something shifted.
We didn’t always have enough to cover the whole emergency. Sometimes we paid $50 instead of $75 from our regular budget. Sometimes we covered half of an unexpected co-pay. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was something.
For the first time in years, we weren’t starting from zero when life happened.
And then something even more important happened: we started celebrating those small wins. Twenty-five dollars saved this month. Fifty dollars that covered part of the car repair. One hundred dollars that meant we didn’t have to stress about the grocery run.
We went from crisis mode to choice mode. Not because we suddenly had more money, but because we finally had some money that was ours to deploy when we needed it.
What Changed Everything
Years later, making less money than I did during those six-figure gas pump days, we were more comfortable than we’d ever been.
Not because we’d figured out some complicated system or found the perfect budgeting app. Because we’d changed our relationship with money.
We’d learned that every dollar—even $6.25—has a job. And when you give your money jobs to do, instead of wondering where it all went, you start to feel like you’re driving instead of just hanging on.
Pay yourself first doesn’t mean you have to save hundreds of dollars a month. It means treating your future self like a bill that gets paid, even if that bill is tiny.
For You, Right Now
If you’re sitting in a grocery store parking lot checking your balance, I see you. I remember exactly how that feels.
If your debit card gets declined and you can’t figure out why, I’ve been there too.
If you think saving twenty-five dollars a month is pointless, I understand. I used to think the same thing.
But here’s what I wish I’d known then: The amount doesn’t matter nearly as much as starting. That tiny emergency fund isn’t going to solve all your problems, but it’s going to solve some of them. And solving some of them changes how you feel about all of them.
You’re not bad with money. You’re not failing. You’re not the only one who feels like you’re treading water even when things should be working.
This is a season you’re moving through, not a sentence you’re serving.
Start where you are. Save what you can. Pay yourself first, even if it’s embarrassingly small.
Your future self—the one who won’t have to check the balance before buying groceries—is worth $6.25 a week.
Your future self—the one who won’t have to check the balance before buying groceries—is worth $6.25 a week.
If you’re ready to move from anxious math to peace of mind, my free Money Clarity Guide gives you 10 quick shifts to start right now. It’s the same foundation this article came from and the same principles we’ll unpack in the
Before the Budget series.
Start Here
P.S. If you don’t see it in your inbox right away, take a peek in your junk or spam folder — it sometimes hides there the first time.