How I’m Healing My Relationship with Money

For most of my life, I didn’t even realize I had a relationship with money. It was simply part of life, something we talked about, something we handled, something we shared.

In China, where I grew up, money was not a secret. It was part of every conversation, part of every gathering, part of how we connected with each other. When friends met, it was common to ask, “How much do you make now?” Not to compete or judge, but to understand, to help, to show concern. If someone in the family was struggling financially, we didn’t turn away. We sat down, discussed openly, and worked together to find a solution. There was comfort in that kind of honesty. Even if we didn’t have much, we never felt alone with money. It was a shared responsibility, a collective concern.

In many Chinese households, the man went out to work, but the woman managed the money. She took care of the bills, organized the spending, saved for the future, and often gave the husband his allowance. It wasn’t about control, but about balance and trust. When a woman managed the household finances, the family often felt more grounded and stable. There was structure, order, and a sense of security.

But everything changed when I moved to the United States.

Here, money became something private and silent. Even in marriage, couples often had separate bank accounts, separate bills, and separate financial responsibilities. People didn’t talk about how much they earned, even with close friends or their spouse. You were expected to handle your own part and not bring it up. In the beginning, I didn’t understand it. The silence around money felt cold and confusing. But over time, I adapted. I learned to keep quiet. I stopped asking. I stopped sharing. I got used to carrying my financial stress in silence, even when it was heavy.

Without realizing it, I began to fear money. Not just the lack of it, but the feeling that I had to carry it all alone. I believed that asking for help made me weak. That struggling meant I was failing. That I needed to prove myself by doing everything on my own. And so I kept working harder and harder, trying to earn more, save more, plan better, hoping the fear would go away. But no matter how much I earned, the fear stayed. I was still stuck in a scarcity mindset.

That was when I finally asked myself the question I had been avoiding for years.

How do I change my relationship with money?

It wasn’t just about the numbers. It was about the emotional weight, the silence, the cultural confusion, and the fear I had absorbed from trying to belong in a world where money was treated as a private burden instead of a shared reality. In China, I had felt poor but supported. In America, I often felt successful but alone.

So I started doing the inner work. I began writing down my beliefs about money, looking at the old stories I had inherited, the fears I had carried, and the meaning I had given to wealth and worth. I asked myself where these beliefs came from and whether they still served me. I realized many of them came from survival, from scarcity, from trying to protect myself. But I no longer wanted to live like that. I didn’t want to just survive. I wanted to feel safe, confident, and free.

I began to talk about money again, this time not from fear, but from curiosity and courage. I listened to mentors, coaches, and women who were also learning to rewrite their financial stories. I let go of the shame I had carried for so long. I stopped hiding and started healing.

One day, I opened my bank account and looked at the numbers. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel panic or guilt. I felt calm. I felt grateful. I placed my hand over my heart and whispered, you are growing, you are learning, you are safe now.

That was the beginning of a new chapter.

Now, I see money not as something that defines me, but as something that supports me. I treat it with respect, not fear. I am learning to love money, not with greed, but with peace. I know now that I am worthy of ease and abundance. I don’t have to choose between love, purpose, and financial well-being. I can hold all three in harmony.

Because money is not just a number. It is energy. It reflects how we feel about ourselves, how we allow ourselves to receive, how much we believe we deserve.

And after all these years of silence and survival, I am finally ready to receive fully. Not just money, but trust. Not just income, but freedom. Not just wealth, but peace.