Introduction

When I reflect on my journey with money and love, I realise how deeply intertwined these two areas have been in my life. Our podcast theme — how thought work on money can impact our love relationships, and vice versa — resonates profoundly with my lived experience.

The Early Years: Financial Parallelism and Emotional Equilibrium 

When my now-husband and I met, I was completing my PhD after a first job in consulting. I felt financially secure and relatively relaxed about money. He, by contrast, had come from Central Europe, funded by his mother’s savings to study in The UK. He was careful with money — something I initially perceived as tightness. He worked nights as a bartender and kept close track of spending.

Yet, I noticed early on that he had a taste for quality — a willingness to pay more for items he deemed valuable, like a high-end suitcase or well-made clothes. This intrigued me: his approach wasn’t driven by scarcity, but by intention.

At that stage, we were running on parallel financial tracks: both well-educated, both with strong early careers. I consistently earned more, and I’ll admit — I felt a resistance to the idea of him surpassing me financially. There was something in me that didn’t want money to become a source of power imbalance.

We kept separate bank accounts, shared expenses 50/50, and grew in tandem. Our desires around home, family, and financial decisions felt aligned. When we bought furniture, moved in together, and eventually purchased our first property, I trusted his financial acumen. He had studied finance and naturally took the lead in structuring our mortgages.

One pivotal moment was his proposal to use a “bullet” mortgage structure — something that initially triggered fear in me. But when he patiently explained the logic, and I took time to understand it, I realised I could trust the decision. It was a lesson in shared financial vision — and in expanding my own risk tolerance.

Disruption and Awakening: Burnout, Autonomy, and Thought Work 

The true turning point came after my burnout. I began questioning everything — not least, my dependency on institutional financial security. At the time, I worked at a large international development financing institution, a role many viewed as the “golden cage”: excellent pay, outstanding benefits, and stability.

My uncle once told me I’d never get a better job. And yet, I found myself drawn to something different — to coaching, entrepreneurship, and meaning-driven work. The idea of leaving that job was terrifying. My financial autonomy until then had been externally anchored in a system I did not control.

This was where thought work began for me:

  • What does “security” really mean?
  • Am I allowed to want something different, even if it’s less stable?
  • What if I fail — financially, professionally, personally?

Two things supported me in this leap: first, the clarity of vision I developed through deep introspection; and second, a meaningful inheritance from my late uncle and aunt. It felt like a message: You are allowed to create your own path.

I recognised that I had been operating with an “accumulator” money script — careful, budget-conscious, secure — but that this narrative would not carry me into entrepreneurship. I needed to develop new mental models:

  • Investing vs. spending
  • Failure as feedback
  • Time horizons as strategic levers
  • Money as relational, not just individual 

Facing the Conversations I Feared 

A major shift came when I realised I had been avoiding real conversations about money — with others, but also with myself. Starting to speak openly with my husband about financial uncertainty, dreams, fears, and desires was incredibly raw.

It felt like pulling the bandage off an old wound. I faced shame, insecurity, overwhelm — even powerlessness. But naming it aloud became a moment of intimacy and transformation.

At one point, during a difficult conversation, I was able to pause and say:

“I’m struggling here. Can we take a break and come back to this later?”

That simple act of naming the discomfort changed our dynamic. My husband — patient and calm — stayed present. Even when my evolution felt unfamiliar or inconvenient to him, he remained open. I’ve learned so much from him.

Gradually, I began developing my own perspective on money, business, and wealth. I stopped relying solely on others’ expertise and started forming my own — slowly, courageously. 

What I’ve Learned 

The process of thought work around money has not just changed my financial identity — it has deepened my relationship with my partner.

Here are some of the truths I’ve come to hold close:

  • Financial flourishing and emotional flourishing are linked — both require safety, communication, trust, and vision.
  • Conversations about money are often conversations about worth, power, fear, and love.
  • There is no one-size-fits-all. Your financial story is a reflection of your values, dreams, and past — and it can evolve.
  • Money work is emotional work. And emotional work, done with courage, transforms relationships.

I share this story not to present a perfect journey, but to offer an honest one — filled with doubt, growth, love, and change.

And if there’s one message I would leave with readers:

You are allowed to rewrite your story. Even — and especially — the story you tell yourself about money.

Sincerely Yours,

Dr. Sophie