You know that moment when one of your parents calls and you just know it's going to end with you feeling annoyed? That was me one November morning in 2020. Dad's number flashed on the screen, and I groaned internally. Our last chat was a heated conversation about money. Again. I was 36 years old but felt like I was still a child, especially when it came to my finances.
I almost didn't answer. But that guilt-inducing thing called daughterly duty kicked in so I picked up the phone. Little did I know, this call would change everything.
Growing up, money wasn't just money in our house. It was Dad's way of having control. I remember being six and getting a $2 coin as a reward. Excited, I announced my grand plans to splurge on lollies at the school canteen. Big mistake.
Dad's reaction was swift and harsh. He launched into a rant about the importance of saving that would make any financial advisor proud. My excitement quickly disappeared, replaced by a desperate need to prove I was worthy of his love. So, I saved that $2 coin, my subconscious mind learning that my worth was directly tied to my financial decisions.
This message was reinforced time and time again. My aunt who often experienced financial hardship would call weekly. She'd plead with my dad for money to pay bills or buy groceries. He'd lecture her on financial responsibility. Yet, he'd always end up giving her the money, much to Mum's absolute fury.
I can still hear Dad's warnings ringing in my ears: "If you don't get a good education and a stable job, you'll end up homeless."