I was newly divorced, raising 3 daughters, when I got tax bills for over $1m. My ex was responsible, but he left the country…leaving me with very little in the bank.  My father refused to lend me the money. I was angry and terrified. I had no choice. I had to get smart about money.

I tried going to classes, reading books, but nothing made sense. I felt immobilized. Nowhere in those books or classes could I find a solution for my paralysis…until I took matters in my own hands.

I stopped focusing on the practical mechanics of money and started plumbing the deepest recesses of my psyche. Writing in my journal proved profoundly revealing.

I became aware of a familiar voice that kept telling me how stupid I was. Instead of ignoring it or letting it hold sway, as I always did, I began a dialogue with that voice, asking it where it came from and what it wanted.

I remembered my father telling me, often and in no uncertain terms, that managing money was a man’s job. As a woman, I did not have what it took to manage money.

 So of course, I was terrified that if I tried to take charge, I’d botch things badly, blow it all.