This month, I settled my son into university in the UK. I talked about it on my LinkedIn post HERE.

It was exciting, a little heartbreaking leaving my son there while I came home.

Then the bills started arriving and all the old stress and anxiety about money resurfaced, even though the money was there. It was more a timing issue. Some funds just hadn’t come in yet.

But I felt it. That familiar tightness in my chest. The quiet panic I used to live with every day.

I hadn’t felt it in a long time.

More than ten years ago, my husband and I left our jobs to open a café. It didn’t work out and we were left with a large business debt.

I went back to work to repay it. Then that job didn’t work out either.

Suddenly I was the sole provider. Two young kids. A debt. No job.

I didn’t want to look at the numbers. I knew they wouldn’t be enough, and I had no answer for that. So I avoided them.

This is a little embarrassing to admit. I studied economics. I even worked as an economics researcher. I still couldn’t bring myself to open my bank statements. I had no idea what the interest or fees were all about on my credit card.

What it made me realise

Somehow this time even though the fear still came, it felt much smaller even though the bills I was dealing with were way, way, much bigger. I stayed calm. I could think clearly.

The difference wasn’t just the money. It was what I did next. I sat down this morning and looked at my number. Again. Even though I knew the ballpark figure in my head because I'd done the math before, I went through it again, on the same one-page exercise I’ve used for years.

Once the facts were in front of me, the panic had nowhere to grow and snowball without basis - as our fears often do.

The lesson

For a long time, I believed someone else would sort it out. My parents. A husband. A boss. The company.

I see this in HR all the time. Someone asks for a raise because they want more money. But the company considers the value they see you bring against the backdrop of everyone else in that pay grade and their own financial numbers. And there's often a gap.

That gap leads to a lot of frustration.

I had to let go of that expectation. If I wanted something, I had to be the one to go and build it.

A job is part of the plan. It just can’t carry your whole plan.

Try this

Here are the four steps I still use whenever I feel anxious about money:

1. Know where you are. What comes in each month? What does the life you want actually cost?
2. Find the gap. Subtract one from the other. That’s it.
3. Decide where the gap gets filled from. A higher-paying job is one option. For me, it meant more travel and less time with my kids. So I looked at my skills and experience instead. Freelancing. Coaching. Writing.
4. Make a plan you can keep. Not five jobs at once. Something that fits your real life, with room to rest.

Start with step one this week. Just look. Because acceptance doesn’t mean you stop wanting more. It means you see things as they are. That’s where change begins.

Even if you've done this before, numbers change as life changes. I just redid mine. If it’s been a while, it might be time to revisit yours.

I go into more detail in this week's podcast, including the thing that helps me calm my fears when doing this exercise. Listen on your favourite players:

If you’d like help, I made a free one-page worksheet called Know Your Number. It takes about 15–20 minutes. You can get it here.

And if this felt familiar, you’re probably who my work is for. Hit reply and tell me where you are right now. I read every one.

Sharon