Fall is my favorite time of year.
The chaos of summer starts to fade. The air turns crisp. Football, bonfires, flannel, Halloween—it’s a season with its own kind of rhythm.
Slower. Quieter. A little more reflective.
That’s why we’re launching a new series this fall called Campfire Conversations—because some of the best financial conversations don’t happen under fluorescent lights or in formal meetings. They happen when you slow down. When you’re not performing. When you’re finally ready to talk about the stuff that really matters.
If you’d rather listen than read, pull up a chair by the fire—we’ve got a podcast episode where we dig into money stories in real time.
And this week, we’re starting with the foundation underneath so many of our decisions:
The story you tell yourself about money.
🧠 You Have a Money Story—Even If You Don’t Know It
We all do.
It’s not about your budget or your balance sheet. It’s the internal narrative that plays in the background:
- “I’m not good with money.”
- “Once I hit [X], then I’ll feel secure.”
- “I should be further along by now.”
- “Money isn’t something we talk about.”
That story often gets written long before you start making financial decisions—and it can quietly shape your life.
The Couple Who Had It All… and Still Felt Behind
A few years ago, I worked with a couple who, on paper, had everything going for them. High income, vacation properties, a strong portfolio.
But behind closed doors, they were anxious. Always comparing. Always chasing.
Their fear wasn’t about not having enough—it was about not having as much as their peers. It was about losing momentum. Losing status.
At one point I asked them, “How will you know when it’s enough?”
They didn’t have an answer.
They weren’t building wealth—they were running from the idea that slowing down meant failure.
The Client Who Thought He Wasn’t “One of the Big Ones”
On the flip side, I met with someone else—50s, self-employed, quiet. He started our meeting by saying, “I’m probably not one of your big clients.”
He’d convinced himself he was behind. That he’d somehow failed financially. But after a few minutes, it was clear—he was doing okay. No debt. Disciplined. Just... quietly successful.
His story told him he was losing the race, even though he wasn’t even in the same race as the people he was comparing himself to.
That’s what money stories do. They distort.
They make you feel either less than or like you always need more—and neither tells the full truth.
🧬 Where These Stories Come From
Most of the time, we didn’t choose the story.
We absorbed it.
It came from childhood. From culture. From crisis.
From the way our parents talked about money—or didn’t.
From what we witnessed, feared, or were praised for.
For some people, money meant freedom.
For others, it meant control.
For others still—it meant shame.
These beliefs can be buried so deep we stop questioning them. But they still steer the ship.
They shape how we save, spend, give, invest, and plan.
Until we pause and say, “Is this story still true for me?”—we live by it on autopilot.
More Isn’t Always Better—Better Is Better
If you’ve ever thought:
“I thought I’d feel different by now.”
“I keep raising the bar, and I’m still not satisfied.”
“Other people seem to have it figured out, and I don’t.”
You’re not alone.
Whether your story is driven by comparison, guilt, pride, fear, or just a lifelong pattern of staying quiet—this season is an invitation to step out of that story and choose a better one.
Not “better” as in wealthier.
Better as in truer. Healthier. Lighter.
💬 Let’s Talk About It
So here’s my question for you this week:
What’s the story you’ve been living by?
And… is it still serving you?
That’s what Campfire Conversations is all about.
We’re carving out time this fall to sit down—without pressure, without performance—and have real conversations about the things that matter most.
If that sounds like something you’re ready for, I’d love to hear your story.
👉 [Click here to schedule a Campfire Conversation.]
Or just take a moment this week to reflect:
Where did your story come from?
What has it cost you?
And what could it look like to rewrite it?
Next week, we’ll be talking about The Cost of Avoidance—what happens when you keep pushing off the decisions that matter most.
But for now, I hope you find a quiet moment.
And maybe… give your story a name.