I dread the moment I have to look at the numbers

Dear Delyara, Not because I’m childish. Because money still gets into me in a place that feels older than reason. I can tell myself to be calm, practical, adult, sensible. But before I even open the app or the statement or the email, my body is already reacting. My shoulders tense. My stomach drops. My whole mood narrows. It’s as if the fear gets there before the facts do. And the facts are not always disastrous. Sometimes they are just tight. Just annoying. Just one more reminder that there is not much room. But even “not much room” has a way of making me feel emotionally cornered. I hate that. I hate how quickly money can take the softness out of me. It makes me feel less generous, less playful, less safe, less like myself. That’s what I’m grieving, not only the amount.