In 1996, when I first received my diploma in counseling, I believed I would spend my life helping people untangle their emotions, their relationships, and the stories that quietly shape who they are.

I learned early on that the way we see ourselves—the identities we carry—dictates the way we live, love, and choose.

But life has a way of leading us down unexpected paths. A few decades later, I found myself working as a financial advisor. On the surface, it looked like a complete departure from counseling, but in truth, the same patterns followed me there.

I sat across the table from high-income couples—surgeons, entrepreneurs, executives—people who had, by all measures, made it.

Their paychecks were enviable. Their homes and vacations looked like magazine spreads. Yet when we peeled back the curtain, I saw the same thing again and again: stress in their eyes, tension in their marriages, and shame they didn’t dare speak aloud.

They would lean across the table and whisper some version of the same question: “Where does it all go?”

And that question hit me, because I had lived it too.

There was a moment in my own life—I can still see it—when I opened a bill and felt that familiar punch of anxiety in my stomach.

I was working hard, earning well, yet it seemed like money slipped through my fingers faster than I could catch it.

I remember thinking: How can I be so smart, so capable, and still feel like I’m behind?

All I need is the right budget app!

Well, that budget app on my phone only created more stress in my life. Keeping every little receipt (if I remembered to grab it!), inputting all the details, and the frustration when going over the budget, again.

That's when I knew there must be a better way. I'm not working so hard just to be told I can't buy a cup of coffee.

Back to basics. I pulled out the sheets I used when we were first married in the 80s. Pen to paper. Before Excel. Before Apps. Simple. It worked!