An anonymous writer reflects on the uneasy feeling that caring about money somehow makes us worse people. This episode sits with the tension between creative fulfillment, financial stability, and the cultural stories that make it difficult to hold both at once.

Transcript

Hi. I’m Miata.This is Dear Money.

Here, we tell the truth about our relationship with money—the parts we usually keep private.

Each episode, I read and respond to a real letter to money that has been shared anonymously.The goal (for all of us) is never to judge. It also isn’t to fix or to advise. Just to listen, reflect, and try to open some things that’ve been tight or hidden.

Let’s begin.

Letters may be lightly edited for privacy and clarity.

Dear Money—

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

I would love to never have to worry about you. But that’s difficult when you’ve been so scarce lately. Honestly, I’m at a loss for how to keep you around.

I hate to sound desperate, but I do miss you. And I’ll admit it — you’re an important part of my life. You matter a great deal.

But the truth is, I hate having to think about you at all.

Even when there’s enough of you, I prefer putting you on the back burner. I have other things I’d rather spend my time on.

I know that sounds wrong.

I just don’t like the thought of appearing materialistic. That’s not a good look for a woman. I guess that belief is sexist… and probably something I need to get over.

My middle-class upbringing also taught me not to value you too much. That you’re not everything. That you can’t buy happiness.

I’ve since learned that you can at least buy peace of mind.

Working for a bank helped me see that more clearly. It also helped me question some of the assumptions I was raised with.

And having that job was my way of trying to make sure you’d be in good company for a while. But eventually I got too tired to keep up the charade — a career I increasingly hated, even though it kept you nearby.

I need something that makes me happy too.

I’m still working on that.

But it would ease my mind to have you back for a little while. Just while I figure things out.

I promise I’m ready to work on learning more about you — and better understanding how to help you stay.

Does that sound good to you?

Let’s pause and just sit with that for a moment. Just breathe and let yourself notice anything this letter brings up for you.

As I read this letter, what stands out to me is the tension you’re holding.

On the one hand, you miss money.You say it pretty clearly: you matter a great deal.

But on the other hand, there’s a part of you that wishes you didn’t have to think about money at all.

And that tension is normal.

So many of us were raised with a story that caring about money somehow makes us smaller, makes us materialistic, greedy, selfish.

Especially for women, there can be an added layer — the message that talking about money too openly makes us look bad...

So we keep our distance.

We say things like:Money isn’t everything.Money can’t buy happiness.

Money isn’t what matters to me.

And there’s truth in those statements.

But sometimes those ideas become a way of keeping money at arm’s length — a way of staying morally safe by pretending the relationship doesn’t matter very much.

The problem is that our relationship with money doesn’t disappear when we stop paying attention to it.

In fact, the less attention we give it, the more uncertain the relationship becomes.

And the uncertainty tends to create fear.

I hear that cycle very clearly in your letter.

You don’t want to seem materialistic, so you keep money in the background.Because it stays in the background, it remains uncertain.And because it’s uncertain, it becomes frightening.

And that brings money right back to the center — but now with anxiety attached.

That’s a difficult loop to live in.

What I appreciate about this letter is how willing you are to question the assumptions you have… the ones you grew up with.

You name the sexism.You name the messages from your upbringing.

You also describe how working at a bank was a different kind of influence. It helped you to see money differently.

All of this reflection you’re doing matters.

It’s demonstrating in real time how our relationship with money doesn’t stay the same.It is something that evolves as we do.

And there’s something else in your letter that I find so honest.

It’s when you describe working in a career that kept money nearby — even though the work itself made you increasingly unhappy.

That’s another story so many of us live in.

The idea that the only responsible way to keep money around is to choose the steady path… even if that path slowly drains the life out of you.

So we end up faced with an impossible choice:

Ignore money and risk instability.Or pursue money in ways that make us miserable.

Is it surprising that so many of us avoid the conversation entirely?

What I hear in your letter, though, is someone who is beginning to step out of that bind.

You’re not pretending money doesn’t matter anymore.You’re not pretending happiness doesn’t matter either.

You’re allowing both of those truths to exist at the same time.

And that’s where a more honest relationship with money can start.

You say you’re ready to learn more about money now.Ready to understand how to help it stick around.

That’s a powerful shift. Because curiosity is a very different place to begin than avoidance.

The tension is still here.But so is your capacity to face the relationship directly — without pretending money doesn’t matter, and without pretending that it’s everything.

Thank you to the writer for trusting me with this letter.And thank you for listening.

Dear Money is a space for honesty, not answers.You don’t need to do anything with what came up today.

If you find yourself holding a truth you haven’t named yet, you’re welcome to write your own letter to money. I’ll be here.

New episodes are published every Thursday.

Until next time.

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