I’ve never been good with money. I’ve never been the person who checks my credit score, keeps track of bills, or gets excited about budgeting spreadsheets. Honestly, I was the type of person who thought, If I have money, I’ll spend it. If I don’t have money… I’ll probably still spend it.
Financial responsibility just wasn’t something I ever learned.
According to my stepdad, I get that from my mom. Apparently, years ago she forgot to make the final payment on one of those buy-now-pay-later plans—Klarna, Afterpay, one of those—and it ended up hurting her financially. I guess I come by it honestly.
Unfortunately, I’m no better.
Right before COVID, I took out a loan because I needed to move from Las Vegas to California. At the time, I also had a couple of credit cards. Eventually, one of those accounts was closed, but I managed to pay it off before it went to collections. The other one stayed open, and I kept up with it.
Then about a year later, I opened two more credit cards.
At first, I was doing everything right. I made my payments on time. Then I missed one. Then another. Suddenly it became this endless cycle of paying just enough to keep the accounts from completely falling apart instead of actually making progress.
I kept telling myself I’d get everything back in order.
Then life happened.
About two years ago, I lost my good-paying job. I took a minimum wage job just to survive, and I was barely scraping by. Then I left that job for another one, but by then I was already behind.
Then I got pregnant.
Pregnancy brain is real, and while it’s definitely not an excuse, it didn’t exactly help me stay on top of bills. Between doctor appointments, moving, stress, gestational diabetes, and everything else this pregnancy has thrown at me, my finances kept falling further and further down my priority list.
Now, over a year later—maybe longer; honestly I’m measuring time by pregnancy at this point—I owe more money than I care to admit.
And that’s terrifying.
I’m not working right now, so I don’t even have money to throw at the problem. It’s just…there. Hanging over my head.
The hardest part is admitting that I’m embarrassed.
Hector has always wanted to keep our finances separate. For a while I kept asking if we could combine everything, but if I’m being honest, it wasn’t because I thought it was the best financial decision. It was because I wanted someone else to take over.
I wanted someone to remember the due dates. Someone to organize everything. Someone to make sure nothing slipped through the cracks.
That isn’t fair to him.
My financial mistakes are my responsibility, not his.
The truth is, I get overwhelmed easily. When life gets chaotic, I tend to avoid problems instead of facing them. It’s a habit I’ve picked up from both of my biological parents, and while understanding where it came from helps explain it, it doesn’t excuse it.
I’m about to turn 30.
I’m about to become a mom.
And I can’t help feeling embarrassed that I still struggle with something that seems so basic to everyone else.
But maybe that’s exactly why I’m writing this.
Not because I want sympathy, and definitely not because I’m proud of the choices I’ve made. I’m writing it because pretending everything is fine hasn’t helped me. Avoiding it hasn’t helped me.
Maybe growing up isn’t about never making mistakes.
Maybe it’s finally looking at the mess you’ve made, admitting it’s yours, and deciding you’re going to clean it up—even if it takes years.
I don’t have some inspiring ending where I tell you I’ve paid everything off and suddenly became a budgeting expert.
I’m still in the middle of it.
I’m still scared.
But for the first time, I’m at least willing to admit that I need to change.
And that’s probably where becoming financially responsible actually starts.
