Between Tables is where I explore the emotional, psychological, and practical sides of money, especially for women carrying a lot.

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I’m going to tell you something that doesn’t exactly scream “hire me as your financial planner”, but still, you should. ;)

During a particularly stressful stretch: business was demanding, the kids were demanding, my body was demanding, and our finances needed attention I didn’t have the bandwidth to give—I looked at my husband during a money conversation and said, “You’re welcome. ” As in: you’re welcome for the fact that we’re on track for retirement. You’re welcome for the years of hustling and planning and number-crunching that got us here. You’re welcome.

Not exactly a Hallmark marriage moment.

In all fairness, he could have turned around and said “You’re welcome. ” As in: you’re welcome for the home-cooked meals every night. You’re welcome for having military-level styles of calm during a crisis. You’re welcome for holding steady during some of your anxious spirals ranging from money, to your new grey hairs, to which of us will live longer. But he’s a smart man. So he didn’t.

I share this because I think there’s a version of money-conversation advice that sounds like this: use “I” statements, schedule a monthly check-in, pour a glass of wine, keep it to 30 minutes. And that advice isn’t wrong. But it skips over the part where you’re so depleted that “I” statements aren’t accessible to you. The part where you’re running on cortisol and obligation and the fumes of being The Dependable One, and what comes out of your mouth isn’t measured or productive or forward-looking. It’s just… the weight, finally cracking through.

Over the years, our money conversations have ranged from healthy to not so healthy. And I’ll admit it, my forward-planning nature (aka my ability to “what if” us into oblivion) has caused some of the not-so-great ones.

When Your Girlboss Era Exits Stage Left

I had my girlboss era. I crushed it. I hustled. I wanted to conquer All. Of. The. Things. Build the business, grow the revenue, hit the goals, check the boxes, prove that I could do it all while raising small humans and keeping the household running and showing up as a wife and a daughter and a friend and a leader.

I still have a lot of that drive. Except now I also have children who are growing up alarmingly fast. And a perimenopausal body that files weekly HR complaints about how much stress it’s willing to absorb. And the self-inflicted weight of always being “the dependable one”. I should also say, I now care far less about what people think of me, am confident in who and how I work, and am proud of the decisions I’ve made and how I’m living my life. So, there’s also a “W” in the columns for “joy” and “wisdom with age”.

Overall, we’re looking at a typical plate for a woman. Overflowing, obviously.

The thing about attempting to balance an overflowing plate is that sometimes you don’t want to handle it anymore. Sometimes you’re tired. There have been seasons when I haven’t wanted to think about our finances at all. Haven’t wanted to calculate how much further we need to go to hit our retirement number. Haven’t wanted to open the spreadsheet. I’ve wanted to turn off my brain from number-crunching entirely.

And in those seasons? The conversations haven’t been handled with “I” statements. They’ve been handled with “you” statements. The sharp kind. The ones that would not make a couple’s therapist proud. The kind that come from a place of exhaustion and resentment and the irrational belief that if I’m carrying this much, the least everyone else can do is acknowledge it.

That’s the part most money-conversation advice leaves out. Not the technique. The state you’re in when the conversation happens.

What We’re Actually Fighting About

Money is tangled up in so much that we carry as humans. Obligation. Values. Shame. Responsibility. Excitement. Fear. Desire. Love. The weight of providing. The guilt of spending. The anxiety of not knowing if it’s enough.

When I snapped “you’re welcome” at my husband, I wasn’t talking about retirement accounts. I was talking about years of pressure I hadn’t fully named. I was talking about the identity I’d built around being capable and prepared and in control, and how even when you love what you’ve built, it can still be a lot to carry while your body is changing, your kids need you, and the business you care deeply about keeps growing.

That’s what’s underneath most money fights. Not the dollar amounts. Not the budget line items. Something much deeper and much harder to say out loud.

These are called money scripts, which are the unconscious beliefs about money you’ve been carrying since childhood.

Maybe you grew up hearing “we can’t afford that” and now you hoard savings out of fear. (Guilty. ) Maybe your partner grew up in a household where money was never discussed, and now they shut down at the first mention of a budget. These scripts are deeply personal, often invisible, and almost always in conflict when two people try to build a financial life together.

For me, money means security—having enough saved that I never have to worry. For my husband, money is more about freedom—the ability to take risks, say yes to experiences, live a little. Neither of us is wrong. But when you’re operating from different definitions of “enough” without ever naming them? Conflict isn’t just likely. It’s guaranteed.

The Question Underneath it All

Ultimately, you can do everything “right” and still feel the weight.

I’ve told my husband it feels heavy. He’s heard me. I have other financial planners I lean on, a best friend in the industry I’m completely transparent with about numbers, goals, stresses, wins. I’m not lacking support or communication or even self-awareness. And I still carry it. Because when you’re the one who built the systems and knows the numbers and holds the vision for where your family is headed, that doesn’t transfer easily. You can delegate tasks. You can’t outsource the carry.

This is what I see across the table from my clients, too. Women who’ve done the work. Who have the plan, the advisor, the partner who’s willing to engage. And still the weight sits with them, because the weight isn’t about who pays the bills or who logs into the accounts. It’s about the mental and emotional load of being the person responsible for making sure it all works out.

And the question that actually changes things isn’t how do I carry this better? It’s am I sure I’m carrying it toward the right thing?

We can’t outsource the work we need to do to reach the goals we want to achieve. All we can do is make sure the goals we say we want are actually what we want. That the life we’re building is the one we’d choose again if we could start over tomorrow. That we’re not just carrying momentum from a version of ourselves that no longer fits.

That’s the money conversation most of us aren’t having (with our partners or with ourselves).

The Conversations That Actually Change Things

The couples I work with who build lasting wealth and deep connection aren’t the ones who never fight about money. They’re the ones who’ve figured out how to come back from the fights. Who’ve learned, over time and often through failure, how to have the conversations that matter.

And the conversation that matters most is the one most couples skip entirely.

Not the budget conversation. Not the “how much did you spend” conversation. The values conversation. What does money actually mean to each of us? And is what we’re building together still what we both actually want?

If I could sit every couple down and have them ask each other four questions, it would be these:

  • What did money look like in your family growing up?
  • When you imagine feeling financially “safe,” what does that actually look like?
  • What would you do differently with your time if money weren’t a concern?
  • What financial decisions keep you up at night?

These aren’t spreadsheet questions. They’re questions that help you see the person behind the spending habits. And understanding “oh, that’s why you panic when the balance dips” or “that’s why you need to feel like we can say yes to things”, is the foundation of every productive money conversation that follows.

The Imperfect Moments

I wish I could tell you I’m perfect and maintain total zen throughout all marital conversations. That our money conversations now happen over candlelight with perfect emotional regulation on both sides and a little R&B playing in the background.

They don’t. They happen in the car, usually. Or when the kids are on iPads and we’re both sitting at the kitchen counter tackling the family to-do list. Or when I’ve been stressing about some big expense for days before finally just saying “to heck with it” and completing the transaction, then telling him about it after. We’re imperfect. We’re human.

I’ve gotten better at recognizing when I’m not actually upset about the money, but instead I’m upset about the weight underneath it. The obligation and the fear of not being enough or not having enough. When I can name that, even imperfectly, the conversation shifts. It goes from adversarial to something that feels more like two people on the same team, sorting through something hard together.

And I’ve learned that the conversation with my partner can only be as honest as the conversation I’ve had with myself. What am I actually afraid of? What do I truly want our financial life to make possible? Am I building toward something I still want, or am I just in motion?

Building whole-life wealth isn’t just about optimizing your portfolio or maximizing your tax strategy. It’s about creating a life where your money, your relationships, and your values are all working in the same direction. And that starts with how you talk about it. With yourself first, and then with the people who matter most.