The vicious cycle of juggling finances is tough to break. Poverty is my comfort zone. The truth is, if I can’t picture financial freedom, it’s not going to happen.

I was raised by a single, hardworking mother. We lived in a cottage with one bathroom and a landlord who never raised the rent. With a junior college degree and a gift for reading people, my mother worked her way up from secretary to partner at an executive search firm. After she was featured in an article titled, “Lessons From Late Bloomers” in Fortune magazine, she passed away. 

Months before her death, I brushed off a chat she wanted to have over the status of her will. Her third husband didn’t believe in leaving money to children. With an unfinished will at the time of her death, my stepfather got the money she had painstakingly earned. My life became a series of moments where I had money, and moments where I had none. I married a man who had not completed college. My job at an advertising agency supported us while he completed his studies. The money from my mother’s life insurance helped us purchase a home to prepare for the birth of our first child. I lacked my mother’s drive for success. Her career skyrocketed while mine floundered. I lived for my husband’s job rather than focusing on what made me happy. By the time my third son was born, we had moved three times due to corporate transfers. I handled our finances. No one had taught me about saving, budgets, investing, credit cards, debt – yet I was in the financial driver’s seat.

On our final move to Los Angeles, I found an affordable home in a strong school district. A few years later, we sold the house for a considerable profit to purchase a car dealership. I entrusted my husband with my savings, the proceeds from the sale of our home, and every cent my mother had left me. A few years later, the dealership closed its doors, and I got divorced. There I was, penniless with three boys. Those were the best and most difficult days of my life. My kids learned I’m a fighter and I don’t give up. We endured the water and electricity being shut off and multiple eviction notices, but we always had each other.

I decided to write a book. Every night, after teaching Pilates for eight hours, I would write. The process healed my heart. I pictured financial freedom while writing a story to help women and change lives. The film rights were optioned. Since then, I have landed a literary agent and won four book awards. My poverty mentality may have been more fear of success than fear of failure. 

The other night, my boys and I discussed money. To my dismay, my middle son stated no one had taught him about finances. The poverty mentality must stop with me. Time to talk to my kids about money.