It’s Not Business As Usual

How can I think about money right now?

This piece was written before Dear Money became an audio-first practice. It remains part of the archive, and I’m glad it’s here.

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I’ve struggled to write anything in recent weeks.

Everything in me wants to be useful. To serve. To offer something that matters. But right now, that drive feels tangled in grief, outrage, and disorientation.

Because it is not business as usual.

The genocide continues in Gaza. Children continue to be killed. Families continue to be erased. Entire communities continue to disappear. And it feels unbearable to witness.

And yet—if we live in this world, we are witnessing it.

What place does a platform like Dear Money have in a moment like this? What good is a letter to money when there is so much suffering? What is the point of talking about personal finances when basic human rights are being denied to so many?

My platform is small. My voice is not amplified by millions.

What could I possibly say that would make a difference?

But silence isn’t neutral. It doesn’t sit still. It snowballs. It becomes complicity—not always in intention, but in effect.

I have spent too long helping people unearth the truth of their financial stories to start pretending now that our relationship with money exists in a vacuum. It never has.

We still have to pay rent.
We still have to buy groceries.
We still have to raise children.
We still have to answer emails.

But we are doing it with broken hearts.

And part of healing our relationship with money is recognizing that our financial choices—how we earn, spend, save, and give—are not just about personal freedom. They are about power. About values. About who we stand with, even when it feels like we can’t do enough.

So here I am. Still uncertain. Still heartbroken. But choosing not to be silent. Choosing to acknowledge that money is one of the tools we have—and that how we relate to it matters. Especially now.

Dear Money,

I’m not sure what to say to you right now.

I feel overwhelmed and helpless. I feel disgusted that I feel overwhelmed and helpless… that my life just continues while others are simply trying to survive.

I’ve honestly found myself asking, what’s the point of trying to build a healthy relationship with money when the world is on fire?

But what if this relationship matters even more in moments like this?

Because if I can stay connected to you with clarity and intention—
If I can choose how I use you instead of being led by fear or guilt, or even worse by blindness—
Then maybe I can use you to contribute something meaningful.

Even something small.
Even just a whisper.

I don’t want to avoid.
I want to stay present.
Please help me do that.

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Prompt:

This week, I invite you to write a letter to money about the tension you may be feeling in this moment.

What does it mean to hold space for your financial responsibilities while also staying awake to what’s happening in the world? Where are you feeling grief, helplessness, or urgency? And how do you want to show up in your relationship with money—not as a way of disconnecting, but as a way of aligning with your values?

Write what’s true. Even if it’s messy. Especially if it’s messy.
This is not a moment for perfection. It’s a moment for courage.