The stories we tell ourselves matter.

I’m pretty sure I’ve written that exact sentence multiple times on this blog. Maybe more times than I can count, but I can’t stop saying it because it needs to be said. I need to hear it again and again. Because so often we don’t realize that our brains are story making machines and we don’t recognize how much that effects.

Lately, I’ve been particularly thinking about the stories I tell myself about work and money.

Maybe it’s because we just finished the auction and I was overwhelmed by the generosity that poured in on behalf of our girl. Thanks to all of you, I had more money in my account than I have ever had before in any account with my name on it. I felt a heavy responsibility to buy the best possible product with that money, to use that money well and responsibly and ensure that it all goes towards just the right car for Sage. As we did research and talked to different dealerships I recognized more and more how inadequate I feel when it comes to talking about money, when it comes to negotiating, when it comes to getting the best deal for something offered.

Maybe it’s also because I’ve taken on some new clients recently — two new copy writing clients and a squarespace design client. I am loving each of these projects. It is immensely feeding for me to have work outside of care giving, but doing more freelance work is forcing me to keep running up against the stories and false beliefs I have around work and money.

I’m pretty sure it’s gonna take more than just one blog post to unpack these, but I want to start by talking about two particular stories I tell:

Money isn’t something to talk about.
&
I don’t like talking about money.

These sound like statements, but really they are full on stories — myths I carry around with me wherever I go.

Sometimes I have blamed my distaste for talking about money on my mathematical inadequacies, but it really has little to do with the numbers themselves.

Somewhere along the way I picked up a story that talking about money was impolite, common, debase, something to happen only behind closed doors. Talking about money showed a lack of trust in God’s provision, it showed a lack of trust in your employer or community to do right by you, it showed an innate selfishness.

So, I avoided talking about money like it was a dirty subject.

Now, that wasn’t the case with abstract “money management.” It was still sort of a topic to be avoided, but it was OK in my internal storytelling to talk vaguely about the evils of debt, or practically about ways to save money, as long as the topics didn’t get too personal.

It was also OK to be in need and to express your need. In my internal story, money was power, and you could talk about money from a position of weakness, but not from a position of power. I could tell people about the medical debt we have due to Bryan’s cancer and even ask for help paying those bills — sure, it made me uncomfortable, I didn’t like doing it, but I could. However, when I offered a legitimate service, when I did work that brought value, and was asked about compensation I changed the subject faster than you could blink.

When I was working a salaried job I wouldn’t have ever told someone else what I made, and would never have asked them a similar question. That would have been impolite. Maybe that’s a true story — maybe it would be impolite. But, does that serve us? Do men carry that story? I don’t know.

I’m not sure where this started, but I know I’m not the only one who grew up with a distaste for talking about money. I’m especially not the only female — in fact, I recently read that one study found that 61% of women “would rather talk about their own death than have a conversation about money.”

I grew up with some story in my head that talking openly about “money,” particularly pay, was unladylike and unbecoming (to use two very old fashioned words with the right sentiment). Now, I’m sure I was never overtly told that it was “unladylike” or “unbecoming” to talk about money or pay, but somewhere I definitely picked up that concept.

So, when I was very young and started in the “workforce” as a babysitter and families asked me “how much do you charge?” I blushed and laughed and dismissed the statement by stumbling out something awkward to the effect of “whatever you want.” I trusted the families I worked for to pay appropriately and for the most part they did, many probably even gave me more than I would have asked for. But, I gained no practice in asserting the value of my work and effort.

In fact, I have a vague memory of asking my mom what I should charge and her side-stepping the topic by saying something to the effect of how she always left it up to the families when she was babysitting. These stories and beliefs around money get passed down.

Not surprisingly, when I started getting real jobs and negotiating salaries, the same thing happened. And the same thing still happens now when I take on new copy writing or consulting clients. Money comes up and I change the subject. Regularly I’ve refused payment all together. Once I negotiated someone DOWN rather than up.

Here’s the problem with avoiding talking about money, particularly talking about payment…

If money is a store of value,
then avoiding talking about money, or payment, is actually avoiding talking about my value (in relation to the work I offer).

It is a quick jump from not being able to talk about money, to not being able to talk about my value, to not believing I have anything of value to offer.

And this is exactly the story I tell myself: I have nothing of value to offer.

Let me pause for a moment here and say, you are worth far more than whatever you are paid. I think we all have both intrinsic value (being made in the image of God and impeded with his breath), AND we also all have economic value (the value of our gifts, talents, skills, etc.). I think we all have value and worth just in existing AND we all have something of value to offer the world.

But, so often I doubt that I have something of value to offer the world. And, interesting enough, that can sometimes (or possibly often) lead me to doubting my intrinsic value as well.

When we did the auction and so much money was graciously gifted to us, it was appropriate for me to feel overwhelmed — which is exactly what I felt. It was appropriate for me to feel like we didn’t deserve the abundance that was given — because we didn’t. What was given for the auction was pure grace, a gift undeserved and freely given. And what flows out of me in response is gratitude and a heavy sense of responsibility to do right by the givers.

But, work that brings value to another is something different. Work that brings value deserves to be paid.

Here’s an interesting confession, I just edited that sentence. The first time I wrote it I wrote “When I do work that brings value to another, I deserve to be paid” and everything in me cringed. I believe that work that brings value deserves to be paid. I believe that YOUR work that brings value deserves to be paid. But I don’t believe that when I do work that brings value, I deserve to be paid. Why is that? Why is it hard for me to even write out that sentence?

This is part of the work I am doing right now, recognizing these stories. Recognizing when I come up against sentences I don’t believe, that it’s hard for me to say, or write, with a straight face, that make me want to laugh or change the subject. And, having recognized those sentences, stopping to ask, “what’s underneath that?”

I want to change my perception of money and change the story I tell myself around money and payment.

Money is not a dirty word.
Money is not something evil and debase.
Talking about money and asking for adequate compensation does not make me selfish, aggressive, masculine, un-intellectual, ungracious, un-trusting, or ungrateful.

Money is a tool, a resource, a privilege, a valid and appropriate exchange for value.

When I do work that has value for someone, I deserve to be paid and it is appropriate and right for me to ask for and talk about that compensation. It is not a conversation to be avoided, it is a conversation to be entered into with a confident assurance of my intrinsic value, based not on what others say or how much they voluntarily pay me, but on my identity as a child of God, on the skills and gifts I bring to the table, on the evidence of my experience, and the proof of my past work.

So, here’s to learning how to ask for adequate payment. Here’s to learning how to talk about money. And here’s to believing that I do really have something of value to offer the world (even when so much inside me screams that I don’t).

Grace and peace,
Bethany