Okay, let’s do this.
Financial planning always sounded like something adults in Patagonia vests do while drinking oat-milk lattes and judging me for buying $9 cold brew. But here I am, 2:17 a.m. in my crumbling Brooklyn apartment, surrounded by half-eaten Chipotle bowls and a bank account that looks like a cry for help, finally starting my own financial planning. Like, legit. No cap.
Why I Waited Until I Was Literally Eating Regret for Dinner to Start Financial Planning
Real talk: last month I spent $380 on “fun” and then panic-Googled “can you venmo yourself an IOU.” That’s when I knew my money management was cooked. I’m 34, rent is somehow $3,200, and my retirement plan was “die young or go viral.” Classic American delusion.
Step 1: Face the Ugly Truth (aka Open Every Scary Tab)
I opened 27 banking tabs, three credit cards I forgot existed, and my Venmo history that reads like a true-crime podcast. Total damage? $18k in random debt and $43 in savings. Cool cool cool. First move in financial planning: screenshot everything and cry in the notes app.
Step 2: Make a Budget That Doesn’t Suck
I tried YNAB, Mint, spreadsheets—everything felt like homework. So now I just use the “sad girl” method:
- Rent + bills = non-negotiable
- $200 “don’t starve” food money
- $150 “don’t become a cave troll” fun money
Everything else gets yeeted into savings before I can blow it on limited-edition Stanley cups.
Step 3: Build an Emergency Fund (Even If It’s Embarrassingly Small)
Currently mine is $1,200 hidden in an Ally account labeled “DO NOT TOUCH UNLESS DYING.” It’s not 6 months, it’s barely 6 weeks, but it’s more than the zero I had when my cat needed emergency dental (yes, that happened, don’t ask).
Step 4: Kill the Dumb Debt First Start Your Financial Planning
I’m doing the debt snowball because Dave Ramsey’s voice lives rent-free in my head now. Paid off a $900 Ulta card that was 29.99% interest—felt better than therapy.
Step 5: Actually Start Investing, You Coward Start Your Financial Planning
Opened a Roth IRA and a Vanguard account. Threw $200 at VTSAX like the Bogleheads told me to. Still don’t totally get it, but future me better send thank-you postcards.
Step 6: Stop Lifestyle Creep (I’m Looking at You, $7 Oat Milk)
Every time I get a raise, I immediately pretend I’m poor again and shove the difference into investments. It’s like financial negging myself and it kinda works?
Step 7: Automate Everything So My Gremlin Brain Can’t Ruin It
Paydays hit → money gets whisked away to:
- High-yield savings (currently 4.25% at SoFi, fight me)
- Roth IRA
- Brokerage
- Debt
I literally never see it. Out of sight, out of Uber One.
Step 8: Get Life Insurance Because My Mom Made Me
Term life, 20 years, $500k. Costs me $27/month. My mom cried. I felt briefly like a functional human.
Step 9: Stop Saying “I Deserve This” at Target Start Your Financial Planning
New rule: if I can’t explain it to 2019 me who was broke in a different way, I don’t buy it. Works 60% of the time, every time.
Step 10: Revisit This Financial Planning Mess Every Month
I block two hours on the first Sunday, order dumplings, and review everything while hate-watching Real Housewives. It’s honestly… kinda fun now?
Look, I’m still a chaotic gremlin who will probably buy concert tickets I can’t afford next week. But for the first time ever, my net worth went up instead of down last month. That’s huge for this American disaster.
If you’re sitting there with cold pizza and regret, just start. Open the scary apps. Write the dumb numbers. You don’t have to be perfect—just less broke than yesterday.
Drop your most embarrassing money mistake below so I feel less alone. Let’s do this financial planning thing together, fr.
P.S. If you want the exact (ridiculously simple) Google Sheet I use now, DM me on Instagram @actuallynotbrokeyET. I’ll send it—no catch, just don’t judge the memes in the tabs. Start Your Financial Planning
