Pause. Before you read the rest of this blog, what did you think when you read that title? Don’t edit – just sit with your thoughts for just a moment. Did you think “why does Erin have something as crass at that for a title?” Or perhaps, “Yeah, me too! I love money, too!” Whatever it was, hold that thought for a second.
Yesterday I watched a Marie Forleo video, and when she said, “I love money” in the midst of her video, I had a strong reaction. Like, gut-churning. Digging a littler deeper, I realized that some of my old stories around money were still running in my head. Stories like these:
- isn’t it wrong to want money?
- doesn’t it make me a bad person to want money?
- doesn’t it sound totally greedy to say that you love money?
- and most importantly…who do you think you are to want to be wealthy beyond your wildest dreams? (Like Oprah)
Aren’t rich people all assholes?
Then, when I sent the video link to my family (as I often do, and I’m sure they always appreciate it…) , I knew I was onto something, because a certain member of my family said, “But don’t you think that, as a whole, rich people aren’t as nice as the rest of the population?”
Hmm. I knew I was onto something then. It’s not just my own story, then, that needs changing, but the story I learned from my parents, and the stories they learned from their mainly poor forefathers, passed down and given credence and weight.
It’s all a matter of perception.
So here’s the thing about our old stories. We often think that what we’re telling ourselves is gospel truth. That the story that we have in our heads (in this case, all rich people are assholes) is actually reality, and that to tell ourselves anything different (i.e. there are plenty of rich people who are friendly, generous, and kind, and I intend to be one of them) would be to somehow subvert reality, and that we would just be “faking it” somehow.
But we don’t actually need the reality around us to change in order for our perception of it to change. Here’s another example. I often find myself at 4:30 p.m. in the kitchen cooking dinner for two hungry children, and this little script (or story) will start running in my head. It goes like this: “Everything is always on me. I’m always doing the dishes, cooking for the kids, cleaning up after everyone, and then I put a meal in front of them and they just whine…” It’s a horrible story, and one that (as we all can easily see) doesn’t make for a happy mommy or happy kiddies.
But what if I told myself a different story? What if I said: “I’m so happy to be able to share healthy meals with my kids, and to have the time and privilege to spend the afternoons with these two little souls.” (Thank you to Jill Kahn for insight into this.)
How to change reality:
The reality hasn’t changed in this story – I’m still in the kitchen with two hungry kids. But my perception of it has changed. And then, the reality around me starts to change, too. My kids complain less (or if they do, I notice it less). Our food tastes better because it was made with love and care, and my kids respond better to having plates placed lovingly before them rather than thrown down carelessly. And even if my reality hasn’t changed, I’m still happier. And isn’t that what we all want?
So back to loving money. Most of us have these types of stories running in the background, and we don’t even usually notice them. It isn’t until we take the time to stop and listen to what it is that we say to ourselves (or to others) that we can see what’s holding us back from unlimited, Oprah-style wealth. Some of these stories might be:
- You have to work really hard to have a lot of money.
- You have to come from money to have money
- You have to have an advanced degree, or a degree from the “right” schools
- You have to invent something really cool
- You have to be an entrepreneur (or a lawyer, or a doctor, or whatever…)
- You have to sacrifice a lot
- -fill in the blank
Are you enough?
All of these stories or ideas around wealth have one thing at their core, though, no matter what the actual story sounds like: a perceived lack in ourselves, a feeling of not being enough. Do you feel like you truly deserve, on every level, the attainment of your dreams? And if not, why not?
If you’re struggling with the answers, or even with the questions, would love to hear from you! (I’d love to hear from you, anyway.)
