There’s a version of the relationship with money that is built entirely around pursuit.

Chasing it. Trying to catch up to it. Trying to secure it before it disappears again.

For many of us, that’s where the relationship begins: With urgency instead of choice or strategy.

You learn early that money doesn’t stick around. That it’s something you have to fight for and that requires constant attention just to keep your life together.

And over time, that creates a certain kind of identity: You are the one who pushes… who figures it out… who survives.

It can look like resilience. But it’s exhausting.

Because when your entire relationship with money is built on pursuit, it’s like there’s no one place… no firm ground to stand on.

You literally almost never feel safe.

And still, as humans, we become remarkably attached to our identities… even the ones that are not serving us.

So making different choices feels risky.

Can we choose stability over intensity? Consistency over possibility? Something that works… over something that, right now, just isn’t?

For some of us, that choice feels like giving up. Like stepping away from our dreams. Like becoming less of who we are.

But what if it’s the opposite?

Sometimes, stepping out of the chase is what finally creates space for your life to expand.

You have a little more room. A little more energy. A little more capacity to think beyond the immediate moment.

And from that place… something new becomes possible.

I would call it participation instead of just survival or recovery.

You can make decisions from a place that isn’t panic. You can invest in yourself without risking everything.

You can begin to trust that what you’re building will still be there tomorrow.

And that trust changes the relationship.

Because money is no longer something you’re hunting. It’s something you’re learning to hold, to care for, and to work with.

It may not look like what you imagined. It absolutely may not match the timeline you thought you’d be on.

But there’s something powerful about this stage. This moment where things are… ENOUGH.

Sure… they may not be perfect. But they’re enough to stand on and build from.

They’re enough to breathe.

And for many people, that’s the turning point — when things finally stabilize…and you realize you don’t have to chase the same way anymore.

If something in this brings up your own relationship with money here’s…

A prompt, if you want it

Write a letter to money that begins with:

“The way I’ve been chasing you is…”

or

“What it would feel like to stop chasing you is…”

You don’t need to judge what comes up.

Just notice it.

The anonymous letter that shaped today’s reflection

Letters may be lightly edited for privacy and clarity.

Dear Money—

For a long time I thought you were threatening or elusive, like a wild animal in the woods.

I grew up believing I would have to hunt for you.

In my 20s, I pushed myself so hard and still ended up in desperate situations:

I’ve sold my favorite possessions to pay rent…

Sold my car to pay rent…

Gone into debt to pay rent…

Only to end up being evicted a few years later.

I used to have little energy to be an artist because my entire life was about finding you.

I’ve done a lot of reflection and healing work to change our relationship.

I’ve looked at choices I’ve made and patterns I inherited from my family.

It’s taken a few years to feel safe enough in my body to strive for financial abundance, because the rises and falls can take a toll on the nerves!

Two years ago, I risked “failing” as an artist by committing to a full time supporting job that I thought would prevent me from being an artist.

No longer chasing the illusion of the starving artist, I focused on staying solvent and stable.

Surprisingly, my artist self has been expanding over the past few months.

I can afford to take classes and pay collaborators.

I have a month of expenses saved in case everything goes wrong.

It’s a humble existence, but one I am grateful for.

I will continue to work on my relationship with you.

I hope to better handle the grief of unexpected setbacks and face my fears of success.

I will take it a day at a time.

I hope I treat you so well that you feel cherished in my possession and important when you are spent.

Because my relationship to money is a reflection of my relationship to myself.

And so I thank you for all you have taught me and continue to teach me.

I will continue to respect you and treat you as a priority, but with the faith that it will always work out.

I don’t need to obsess or hold tight.

I’m learning to view earning money as an opportunity to be of service to others.

Spending money is a way to honor my needs and make life better.

Saving money allows me to dream and envision a meaningful future.

You help me so much! I hope you know how valuable you are.

Thank you for being in my life.

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

Dear Money is a space for honesty, not answers.

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.

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Until next time.

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