Earlier this year, I met with a financial planner who said something that’s stuck with me ever since:
People bring their emotions to their money.
As we head into the holiday season, I can’t help but see how true that is. For many of us, our relationship with money is tangled up with our sense of self-worth, our desire to please, and the ways we try to make up for what we feel we lack.
The holidays tend to magnify that. We tell ourselves that the right gift will heal the tension, bridge the distance, or make someone see our effort. But overspending isn’t love. It’s not a solution to fix a relationship, buy grace, or win over someone who doesn’t already believe in your worth.
When a woman is in crisis—financial or otherwise—it’s natural to reach for something tangible to fill an emotional void. I know that feeling. I’ve been a single mother at Christmas without the money to buy gifts at any price point. I did my best, kept it small, and carried the quiet shame of not having enough.
Looking back, I realize the people who mattered most never measured my love by the size of the box under the tree. They cared about how they felt in my presence—safe, seen, loved. Gifts fade. The feeling lasts.
This time of year, it’s worth asking: What would it look like to love yourself through the holidays?
Maybe it’s setting a real budget and honoring it. Maybe it’s skipping an event that drains you. Maybe it’s choosing time and connection over things.
The truth is, your peace is priceless—and protecting it is not selfish.
Loving yourself isn’t indulgence; it’s maintenance. It’s knowing when to rest, when to say no, and when to stop trying to prove your value through what you can give away. Money is a tool—something to use thoughtfully, not something that defines your worth.
When we treat money as a measure of love, we let guilt become the storyteller. But when we treat it as a resource, we can choose how it supports our real priorities—health, stability, and peace.
Your worth isn’t tied to your balance sheet, your spending power, or the labels under your tree. It’s reflected in how you show up for yourself and others, in ways that can’t be bought or wrapped.
So make new traditions. Cook a meal that brings comfort instead of stress. Write a letter. Take a walk. Create a moment that costs nothing but presence.
Because the relationships you nurture all year long don’t depend on an expensive gift under the tree.
This year, give yourself something no one else can buy: the freedom to stop performing, and the grace to find joy in enough.
