There was a stretch last year when my spending was... well, weird. Not reckless exactly—my bills were paid, my savings plan was still in motion—but little things kept showing up at my door. A new set of throw pillows I didn’t need. An obscure vitamin supplement promising better sleep. A top I liked but returned because it “didn’t feel right.”
At first, I chalked it up to seasonal burnout or being online too much. But after the fourth or fifth “What was I thinking?” purchase, I did something that most budgeting apps can’t do for you: I got curious about what I was actually feeling.
Because the truth is, money isn’t just math. It’s mood.
And for a long time, I had been tracking my expenses down to the penny, but I wasn’t tracking the emotional patterns behind them. When I finally slowed down and started asking what was driving my decisions, I realized that certain emotions were quietly steering the wheel. Not in dramatic, overspending ways—but in subtle, sneaky patterns that left me feeling financially foggy.
Here’s what I discovered—and how learning to decode my emotions helped me spend more mindfully, save more effectively, and feel better overall.
1. Anxiety: “I need to fix this now.”
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve bought something under the guise of “solving a problem.” A new planner to get my life together. Supplements for energy. Courses I didn’t finish but bought in a panic, hoping they’d unlock some missing piece.
Anxiety-based spending is rooted in the belief that something is wrong—and that a purchase will bring relief. And sometimes, it does. But often? It just adds another layer of overwhelm (plus a credit card charge I didn’t actually need).
How I shifted:
- I started pausing 24 hours before buying anything framed as a “fix.” If the problem still felt urgent after a day, I’d explore free options first—like journaling or making a list.
- I made a rule: no stress-based purchases after 9 p.m. My anxiety peaks at night, and that’s when I’d spiral-shop the most.
- I also asked, “Is this a purchase or a permission slip?” Sometimes I wasn’t buying a solution—I was buying emotional reassurance.
2. Boredom: “A little pick-me-up won’t hurt.”
This one’s sneaky because it often looks harmless. You’re scrolling, sipping coffee, and then—oh! A flash sale. Or a cute candle. Or some little thing that makes the day feel less… meh.
The purchase feels small. But boredom spending adds up fast—especially if it’s a habitual “lift” when nothing else feels stimulating.
What I noticed: My boredom buys were rarely things I actually used. They just gave me a momentary sense of novelty.
How I shifted:
- I made a non-spending “treat list”: walks in a new neighborhood, making a new playlist, deep-cleaning one drawer. I kept the list in my Notes app to give myself alternatives.
- I started asking, “What am I trying to escape right now?” Often, the boredom wasn’t boredom—it was procrastination or restlessness.
- I unsubscribed from most promotional emails. Less temptation = fewer fake “needs.”
3. Loneliness: “Maybe this will make me feel more connected.”
This one caught me off guard. I didn’t think I was “lonely” in the traditional sense—I have close friends, a family I adore, and a career I love. But during certain seasons (like when I moved cities or after a breakup), I found myself buying more lifestyle-y things. Cute pajamas, a set of wine glasses, a stack of self-help books. Nothing outrageous—but all meant to shape a life I wasn’t fully living yet.
Loneliness spending is often about filling space. It can also be about identity—trying to shop our way into feeling like we belong somewhere.
How I shifted:
- I created a “pause playlist” for lonely moments—a go-to set of songs or podcasts that ground me when I feel untethered.
- I asked: “Is this about connection—or is it about comfort?” That small question helped me see when I needed a text to a friend, not another blanket.
- I let myself window-shop without buying. Just browsing, saving ideas, and giving myself the experience without the transaction.
4. Guilt: “I should do something nice for myself.”
Yes, guilt is an emotion that can trigger spending—even “self-care” spending. After saying no to a social invite. After missing a workout. After finishing a huge work week and feeling like I hadn’t been present enough for my people.
I’d “make it up to myself” with a little indulgence—usually food delivery, a treat-yourself beauty item, or something home-y. Again, not wrong. But it wasn’t conscious. It was reactive.
Guilt spending often comes with justification. “I earned this.” “It’s been a hard week.” “I should be kinder to myself.”
All true. But self-kindness doesn’t always have to cost money.
How I shifted:
- I redefined treating myself to include time, not just things—an afternoon nap, a slow walk, or a totally phone-free bath.
- I got clear on my spending values: If I was going to treat myself, it had to align with something I truly value (like rest, creativity, or health).
- I stopped framing everything as a “reward.” I didn’t have to earn rest—or joy.
5. Insecurity: “Maybe this will help me feel more confident.”
This one stung a little. There were purchases that, in hindsight, were clearly about wanting to feel better about myself. A pair of heels for an event I was nervous about. Skincare that promised transformation. A “cool girl” jacket I never wore because it wasn’t me.
Insecurity-based spending is about aspiration. We imagine a better version of ourselves—and try to buy the shortcut to get there.
And look, sometimes dressing up does help. I believe in power dressing and mood-boosting style. But the problem starts when you’re spending from a place of lack, not celebration.
How I shifted:
- I started keeping a “confidence log”—quick notes about what made me feel good in real life (not just in ads or influencer posts).
- I made a rule: No buying things I wouldn’t wear/use as I am now. If it only made sense for future-me, I paused.
- I practiced choosing based on alignment, not aspiration. That outfit, that brand, that vibe—does it reflect who I am today, or who I think I’m supposed to be?
Wealth Wisdom
- Create an emotional spending tracker. For one month, jot down how you felt before making each non-essential purchase. Patterns emerge fast.
- Set “emotional budgets.” Want to spend for joy? Great—plan for it. Set aside $50/month for feel-good spending and name it something fun.
- Shop from the inside out. Start by asking, “What am I feeling?” before you reach for your card.
- Try a 72-hour wishlist. Instead of impulse-buying, save it and revisit in 3 days. If you still want it, go for it. If not? That’s clarity.
- Invest in experiences that expand you, not just soothe you. Confidence builds when you grow, not just when you buy.
The Joy of Paying Attention
At the end of the day, learning to spot the emotions behind my spending didn’t just help me save money—it helped me feel more honest, more aligned, and way less impulsive.
I still buy things I don’t technically need. I still have Target runs that go off-script. But now, I’m more tuned in. I know the difference between buying out of boredom versus buying from intention. And I forgive myself more quickly when I do fall into old patterns—because I’m human, not a spreadsheet.
Financial wellness isn’t just about having more money. It’s about having more awareness, autonomy, and peace. And for me, that started not with another budget template—but with a notebook, a little honesty, and a willingness to ask: What’s really going on here?
