An anonymous writer shares the exhaustion of working relentlessly and still feeling like financial stability is always just out of reach. This episode sits with the cycles of progress and setbacks that many non-traditional earners experience—and the dangerous belief that when money is hard, it must mean we’re failing.

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—

Where do I start?

We have a complicated relationship. And I wish it were better. I want to do better — for me, for you, for us.

When I was younger, I didn’t know how to treat you. No one ever taught me what to do with you. And even now, as an adult, I’m still not sure.

I feel ashamed of that.

No matter how hard I work, I can’t seem to get enough of you. No matter how many things I learn or how many jobs I’ve had, I’ve never earned enough to comfortably cover my bills.

And when I do have you, I don’t know how to keep you around.

It’s an endless cycle that keeps me stuck — never moving forward the way I want to.

I admit it. I need your help.

Back in 2020, I had a great year. I thought I was finally on the right path with you. I paid off all my credit card debt.

But now, a few years later, I’m in debt again.

When I’m lucky enough to have you, I pay for the things I need. But there’s never enough left to save or invest. Never enough to prepare for the slow months.

I’m constantly in the red.

It’s embarrassing. And I’m so over it.

I need your help paying back my parents and finally taking control of my life. Independence has always meant everything to me, yet I haven’t been able to reach it consistently.

Putting strain on the people around me hurts. I carry so much guilt about that.

I love what I do for work. Making music is everything to me. But without you, everything becomes harder.

I need you to help me feel a sense of freedom.

Freedom to take care of myself and the people I love.To build an emergency fund for health issues or whatever life throws my way.To go out to dinner occasionally with my partner.To take vacations with friends.To invest in my career and my well-being.

I’m tired of always feeling like I’m without.

I want to enjoy my life the way I imagined I would when I was younger.

To maybe afford to have a child someday. Or even a pet.

That would be something.

Sometimes I feel sad thinking I may never get to experience those things because I couldn’t figure you out.

But I have made some strides this year.

My student loans are gone. Financial grants helped me pay down medical bills after serious health issues last year. My parents helped me open a Roth IRA, even though I won’t be able to contribute yet unless things change.

I’ve paid off my auto loan. And my credit card debt is going down.

I am working really, really hard.

But it still isn’t enough to live comfortably. My bank account is overdrawn almost every month.

It feels so hard.

I do wonder if something in me is broken because we’ve never had a stable relationship.

But I don’t want to keep living this way.

I want to build stability with you — something strong enough that I never have to struggle like this again.

I want to give back to the people who’ve supported me. To my community.

I want to feel peaceful. To sleep well at night.

To reach my fullest potential as a human being.

So please… Can we move forward in a positive way?

Thank you for hearing me out.

I look forward to what we might accomplish together.

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, the word that stays with me is effort.

You write about working really, really hard. And I believe you.

There’s a kind of exhaustion that comes from trying to build stability while the ground keeps shifting. Especially when the work you love—music in your case—doesn’t provide the predictable rhythm that money seems to prefer.

Many of us living with irregular income know this feeling well.

Some years are good.Some months are great.

And then suddenly you’re back in the red again, wondering how it happened.

It makes the relationship with money feel like a puzzle you just can’t solve.

I hear the shame that has started to creep in around that.

You ask whether something in you might be broken and if the reason this relationship has been unstable is because you somehow failed to figure money out.

But as I listen to your letter, I don’t hear someone who isn’t trying.

I hear someone who has been navigating a relationship that was never explained to them in the first place.

You say something important:

No one ever taught me what to do with you.

That sentence shows up in so many letters like this one.

When we grow up without guidance around money, we end up believing that our struggle is a personal flaw.

But learning how to work with money is not something most of us absorb naturally.

It’s a skill.A relationship.

A set of practices that usually require time, support, and many imperfect attempts.

I also hear something else in your letter.

The belief that once things start going well financially, they’re supposed to stay that way.

So when a good year is followed by a difficult one, it feels like failure.

But relationships with money—especially for people with creative or non-traditional careers—rarely move in a straight line.

They move in seasons.

Some seasons are expansive.Some are restrictive.

That doesn’t mean the relationship is broken.It means the relationship is alive.

It really stands out to me how much responsibility you’re carrying.

You want to pay back your parents.You want to support your community.You want to care for a future family.

You’re not asking money for luxury.

But you are asking for stability and independence and the ability to breathe.

That’s all incredibly human.

And I just want to point out that even though you describe exhaustion, you also share real evidence of movement.

You paid off your student and auto loans, reduced medical debt, opened a Roth IRA…

These are not small things.

These are signs that even with the difficulty, the relationship has been changing.

Maybe not as quickly as you hoped… But it is changing.

And sometimes when progress happens slowly, it is harder to recognize.

The thing I hear the most clearly in your letter is persistence.

You’re still asking questions.Still working.Still imagining a future where the relationship with money feels calmer and more supportive.

That kind of persistence doesn’t guarantee an easy outcome but it does keep the relationship open.

Your exhaustion is real. But so is the effort you’ve continued to bring to this relationship.

And that may be one of the strongest foundations for building something steadier over time.

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.

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit miataedoga.substack.com