The hidden cost of grief no one prepares you for
How I stopped overspending after losing 5 family members in 6 years
Grief doesn’t always show up as sadness. Sometimes it shows up as “add to cart.”
If you’ve ever spent money trying to make yourself feel better, I need you to hear this:
You’re not broken.
You’re human.
A dysregulated human.
No one tells you this, but grief is expensive
And not just emotionally.
After losing 5 family members in 6 years during my 20s, I started noticing spending patterns in myself I didn’t understand at the time. I spent money on sh*t I didn’t need…
the next “it” bag to feel like I mattered
the supposedly “perfect nude” lipstick for a tiny sense of control
the candle that everyone claimed they were “ub-sessed” with for a moment of calm
Except, none of it worked. None of it would fill the emptiness left behind.
But “OMG, you guys”…at least my Instagram feed looked pretty, right?! That was my best influencer impression, btw.
I didn’t realise it then, but spending had become my nervous system’s safety mode. It was how I tried to feel safe. How I tried to feel control. How I tried, in small ways, to soothe a world that suddenly felt unstable, uncertain and unsafe.
This isn’t about judging yourself. It’s about recognising patterns.
Sometimes, the shopping cart fills up faster than your heart does.
I thought I could buy back what was missing, one shopping bag at a time
I never imagined that family gatherings could change so drastically.
One year, we’d all be crowded inside my nan and grandad’s living room with tea and biscuits on the table and the sounds of laughter loud enough to drown out the background noise of the sports or soaps on the TV.
The next year, we were standing around a cluster of graves, counting the empty chairs that should have been in that living room.
It’s hard to describe the weight of that shift. The way birthdays and Christmas become markers of absence instead of celebration.
When you’re a kid, the world feels infinite. You don’t think about death. You don’t think about how fragile your safety is, or your health, or how fast the familiar can flip into something unrecognisable.
And yet, life goes on with or without you.
I learned slowly, that grief doesn’t arrive once and leave. It stacks. Each loss layering on top of the last and the traditions you once loved start to feel like reminders of what’s gone.
At the time, I didn’t connect it to money, spending habits, or who I was becoming.
But looking back now, I can see how those early years of loss quietly trained my nervous system into all the wrong habits.
I would try, in ways I didn’t understand at the time, to buy back control with things I could psychically see, smell and touch.
I didn’t know I was grieving, I thought I just had taste…lol
The first family death in the brutal sequence came the year after I graduated from University with a degree in Fashion Communication. A degree that, unknowingly, had already primed me to escape into the world of aesthetics, excess and overconsumption as soon as times got tough.
The next followed soon after. And the one after that. And before I knew it, life was a blur of funerals, shopping sprees I could barely remember and endless bundles of cope delivered in pretty packages.
I was trying my best to step into adulthood, build an identity, find my place in the world, and the ground kept shifting beneath me. Everything I thought I knew about stability, about what life would look like, was gone.
So I turned to the world I could access: YouTube, Instagram, Pinterest…the aesthetic worlds I knew I could escape into. The curated fantasy that promised control, calm and comfort.
Spending became my way to soothe the chaos I couldn’t otherwise control. I’d chase things that promised validation, that promised riches…the things that made me feel something…even if for a minute.
I fell right into the marketing traps built to exploit my vulnerabilities and desires. This wasn’t about irresponsibility.
It was my nervous system trying to regain control.
This is the spending cycle no one warns you about
Each loss continued to train my brain to seek out relief in tangible things and each “add to cart” moment was a quick dopamine hit that made me feel like I was doing something, anything, to make life feel more predictable.
But short-term relief never solves the root problem.
The hamster wheel of emotional spending repeated over and over. I was trapped in the overspending cycle and I didn’t even realise.
Looking back, I can see the pattern so clearly now:
Loss → lack of control
Spending → temporary relief
Guilt → avoidance
Avoidance → more spending
I didn’t need a lecture. What I needed was awareness.
And permission to notice the cycle without shaming myself.
The final death in what seemed like the never-ending nightmare came on Christmas Day in 2018. And Christmas has never been the same since.
The silver lining is that life after that gave me six death-free years. Things didn’t just suddenly get better overnight. But the time in between gave me space to reflect.
When the noise finally stopped, I could see clearly
Between then and now, I’ve traded “looking rich” for “being rich.” Not because grief disappeared, but because I learned how to deal with it.
This is where so many people get stuck.
We try to outrun our emotions with money, thinking if we can just buy the next thing, the pain will stop.
It doesn’t.
Not really.
So, what changed?
How did I stop the spending spiral and start building stability?
I became aware. I built systems. I began to plan for the long term.
I started using money as support, not an escape.
When you spend emotionally, you’re letting your past control your present and f*ck your future at the same time.
But the biggest change of them all was investing in future me.
I finally started to take care of the version of myself I’d ignored for years, buried under short-sighted shopping sprees and cheap dopamine hits trying to fill the emptiness I felt inside.
I finally realised that self-care isn’t always soft and pretty, it’s strategic and future proofing
Self-care isn’t just spending money on candles, clothes or cute stationary.
Because real self-care is giving yourself tools to win, not just things to admire.
Self care is also:
stacking skills that multiply your value so you can sell yourself in any job market and land the career opportunities others only dream about
knowledge that makes you wiser, wealthier, and more capable of making rational decisions that matter quicker and with less emotion
assets that actually appreciate in value instead of liabilities disguised as assets that simply decorate your home, boost your ego or are used to try and fill a void
Caring for your money is caring for yourself.
Financial stability doesn’t come from more stuff, it comes from having the right habits in place
So here’s what I actually did:
curated my digital environment by unfollowing and unsubscribing to any person or brand that encourages, promotes or facilitates overconsumption
scheduled a weekly money date in my diary which has become a grounding tradition and a ritual for me to check in with my finances. Make this your rich girl ritual by tracking your spending, updating your budget and getting closer to your goals
started giving myself the financial literacy I never got in school or at home and by using YouTube, podcasts and books to educate not escape. Understanding how money really works has helped me play the game better instead of getting played
set financial goals that are focused on freedom-based outcomes, not spending-based inputs. So instead of setting a goal like: “I need to buy this £2,000 designer bag because Instagram says so,” try: “I’m going to invest £50 a month so I can be work-optional by 40.” One is about chasing appearances or validation. The other is about building real freedom and control over your life
built a savings pot for emergencies gave me peace of mind, a tangible way of telling myself, “I’ve got this, no matter what”
invested my money consistently in appreciating assets so it starts growing whilst I sleep to help me eventually stop trading my time for money
These aren’t “boring money tasks.”
They’re the secret acts of self-care no one talks about.
Because they actually benefit you, not the brands who profit from your emotions.
These habits will help you build discipline, resilience, freedom and options.
So no matter what kinda sh*t the world throws at you, you have the right tools to take care of yourself.
Then life tested everything I’d built
Last year, I unexpectedly lost my grandma. My last living grandparent, gone.
The grief hit. It was a familiar feeling. And yet, something had shifted. I didn’t spiral. I didn’t reach for instant relief. I allowed myself to feel, to mourn and to breathe. And suddenly, all those systems I’d built weren’t just about growing my financial wealth anymore. They became my anchor.
They weren’t a shield from the pain, but a way to take care of myself when everything else felt like it was falling apart. Reminding me that I could make it through even when the world felt heavy, unpredictable, and heartbreakingly real.
This time, I made decisions with intention.
Growth doesn’t remove pain, it just changes how you move through it
And that, ultimately, is what stability is: the ability to live fully, feel deeply, and act intentionally, even when life f*cks with you.
If I’ve learned anything, it’s this: financial stability is emotional safety.
Checking your bank balance isn’t just a number
Paying down debt isn’t shameful
Budgeting isn’t restriction
Saving isn’t boring
Investing isn’t hoarding
They are all acts of self-care.
So I’ll say it again: Caring for your money is caring for yourself. Especially in this economic climate.
You don’t need to make “add to cart” your entire personality.
You can learn a better way to cope. You can choose intention over impulse and calm over chaos.
And when you do, your future self will thank you for every thoughtful, intentional financial decision you make today.
Grief, stress, shame or fear: your emotions don’t need to control your spending anymore.