I’ve been pondering this post for days. I began mentally writing it this weekend, and since then I’ve rewritten it a few dozen times. Without so many words, it all boils down to one thing- Money, and the lack the lack thereof.

Throughout my life, one rule has seeped deeply into the nooks and crannies of my brain (mainly by my mother)- never borrow money from someone else. In her mid 20’s, my mom had the financial burden of a hefty home mortgage, 2 children, 2 car payments, and 2 non-English speaking elderly parents. My father also contributed his share to the mile high bills, but the breadwinner was often my mother offering a steady salary and benefits. She never asked for help from anyone. Until this day, every conscious decision in my mother’s life revolves around the question, “is it financially sound?”

Over time my mother’s financial threads helped me to weave my own monetary fibers. I learned the value of saving at an early age. Despite years of begging for Guess jeans, ID shirts, and Nike shoes, she eventually taught me the true value of things (translation- I never owned designer anything). I never borrowed a penny from anyone until college and needed a student loan to pay for tuition. Six days after I wore my cap and gown I began work in a hospital. I worked the graveyard shift in the worst hospital setting of my career. 50 hours a week for a year, just to pay back my loan in full. Since then I traveled across the country, purchased a car and a house on my own. No help from anyone.

Then…I got married, and a joint account emerged.

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