white rice and curry sauce
we moved to sg when i was 9 just for me to eat white rice and curry sauce everyday in primary school…
that’s the beginning of this toxic obsession and addiction with saving money…
i grew up in a family that moved to singapore for a “better education”, sharing two bowls of bak chor mee between four of us and treating mcdonald’s like a birthday celebration. nothing about our life felt guaranteed, so even as a kid, i learned to hold on tight to every dollar.
in primary school, i would eat plain rice with curry sauce every day just to save a bit more. the canteen auntie eventually started adding an egg because she felt bad, but my parents never once told me i had to scrimp like that. they never made me feel poor. i just decided on my own that saving was how i could help, how i could feel a little less scared.
every time my mum took me to the bank, my little bank book felt like treasure. watching the numbers go up by $10, $20, $50 made me feel like i was building my own safety net. like if i saved enough, maybe life wouldn’t feel so fragile.
by secondary school i was rushing from classes to café shifts, giving tuition to primary school kids even though i was basically still a kid myself. two students, $20 an hour, a couple of hours a week. plus weekend shifts. i saved almost every cent. and somehow, i still pushed myself for o levels, getting my l1r5 7 with no tuition. rinse and repeat in jc, then again in uni with better-paying gigs.
on paper, it looked like i was doing everything “right”. no rich parents, no inheritance, no investments. just consistency, self-discipline, and a girl who refused to stop hustling. by 18, i crossed into 5-figure savings.
but here’s the part i never said out loud for a long time: inside, i was still in survival mode.
i had money in the bank, but my body was still bracing for impact. i felt guilty whenever i spent on myself. i felt uneasy when things felt “too easy”. i didn’t know how to relax without feeling like something bad would happen if i stopped grinding. i knew how to save and sacrifice. i didn’t know how to feel safe.
for so long, i thought being “good with money” meant always choosing the cheapest option, always saying no to myself, always working, always preparing for the worst. i thought that once i hit a certain number, the fear would disappear on its own. it didn’t.
so now, i’m learning a different lesson. that money is not just about survival, it’s also about freedom. the freedom to breathe. to dream a little bigger. to buy a meal without counting coins in my head. to set aside a small fund just to enjoy, to look good, to feel good, without punishing myself after.
i’m learning that intentional spending on myself isn’t being irresponsible, it’s an act of love. i’m learning that i don’t have to suffer to “deserve” nice things. i’m learning to be okay with ease, to stop equating comfort with guilt, to let the younger version of me finally rest a little.
if you grew up counting every dollar, or you’ve hit a money goal and still don’t feel truly safe or happy, you’re not alone. you can be proud of how far you’ve come and still admit that surviving is not the same as living.
if you’re also trying to build wealth without losing yourself in the process, link in bioo. i’m building a lil community of people who are unlearning survival mode together, and you’re so welcome to sit with us for a while. 🤍
Reflecting on my own experiences with money, I deeply resonate with the journey from scrimping on essentials to building a healthier relationship with finances. Like many who grow up in modest households, the early habit of saving every dollar often starts as a necessity but can evolve into an addiction to frugality, where spending becomes linked with guilt and anxiety. In the story shared here, the ritual of eating white rice with curry sauce every day is not just about food but a symbol of the effort to contribute and protect the family’s financial stability. The simple act of the canteen auntie adding an egg out of kindness highlights how small gestures can impact one’s emotional experience during tough times. I found that accumulating savings early in life, while commendable, does not automatically resolve deep-seated fears about security and survival. Even with growing savings, many of us feel uneasy spending on ourselves, associating costs with discomfort or an impending threat. What’s liberating is the gradual shift from surviving on a budget toward intentionally spending to enhance life quality. This means permitting ourselves to enjoy meals without counting coins, investing in things that bring joy or confidence, and recognizing that such spending is not irresponsible but an act of kindness toward ourselves. Joining a community of like-minded individuals who are dismantling survival mode together can be incredibly healing. Sharing struggles and successes creates support to redefine wealth beyond numbers—as a tool for freedom, peace, and personal growth. If you relate to this, consider small steps: allocate a modest budget for enjoyment, practice gratitude for what you have, and allow yourself breaks from the hustle without guilt. Over time, this nurtures a feeling of true safety—not just in dollars saved but in emotional wellness. Financial discipline paired with self-compassion is key to turning a lifetime of saving into a fulfilling life where money serves dreams, not fears.
Omg I used to be from tnps too! So motivating knowing someone from the same "environment" could be so successful too 🥺❤️