The Shameful Dough 🥖

“Shameful Dough” is the version of me that appears when I feel ashamed — about money, about my past, and about my life as a whole. It’s the inner whisper that says, you should’ve known better, even when I truly did not know better at the time. It’s the part of me that still bristles when I think about being a kid who could not join classmates on school trips or could not ask my parents to buy the latest trend.

Where it Started 🛄

When I was ten years old, I would tell my teacher I could not afford to go on a school trip 🚫🎒. At the time, it was not shameful — it was just true. I did not have that option in my reality. It was only later, with years of comparison and social noise, that shame crept in. I became ashamed of the one hand towel my parents reused for years 🧼, ashamed of talking about their jobs, ashamed of not having a Canada Goose jacket when everyone else was excited about it 🧥.

I was ashamed of our tax bracket 💸, ashamed of the honest, hard work my parents did 💪, ashamed of living in a basement when we first arrived in Canada 🏠, and even ashamed of not being able to buy a $1.50 bubble tea (yes, it was that cheap back then) 🧋. Every time I expected my parents to buy me a meal and a drink after school and they said, “Let’s go home and eat,” I felt that little pinch of not‑enough. Eating out was rare, and even when it happened, it felt like something I had to justify to myself. I watched classmates enjoy small luxuries I could not have and quietly assumed something was wrong with me — not with my circumstances.

The Urgency 🏃‍♀️

Later, I chased quick money like it was going to fix everything. I dove into day trading 📈, crypto 💻, and all those get‑rich‑fast schemes that made me feel like I was finally in the “real” financial game. I lost a solid five‑figure chunk of money (I’m still not ready to share the exact number, but maybe one day). Losing it felt like the end of the world, especially when people reacted with horror: “How could you make such a huge mistake?!” 😱

When I started listening to real investors 🎤, I realized most of them do not panic when they lose money. They accept that some investments fail so others can thrive 🌱. It is okay to cut your losses and move on instead of freezing in shame. I stayed frozen for years — about five years where I refused to invest at all, as if avoiding risk would erase the past. I read books 📚, listened to podcasts 🎧, and kept telling myself that what I’d done was “wrong.” In the process, I ended up avoiding risk altogether, and that was not the answer either.

Healing ❤️‍🩹

The turning point was realizing I did not want shame to define my relationship with money. I put on my big‑girl pants 💪 and decided to learn, not just blame myself. I gave myself some grace — I had not known better, and that is different from being “bad with money.” I learned that there are no real, consistent shortcuts in investing 🚫✨. Sometimes you win big, but that is luck, not a strategy. I moved as far away from gambling‑style trading as I could and finally accepted that I am not built for that kind of volatility.

That shame did not vanish overnight. It is still a part of me — the “Shameful Dough” version. But now it also reminds me to be thoughtful, intentional, and cautious. It is a scar that helps me set boundaries with my money instead of letting it run my life.

If you have made a money mistake and feel ashamed of your behaviour, you are not alone. Shameful Dough lives in a lot of us. What matters most is what you do after that moment. It is the lesson you learn, the grace you give yourself, and the courage it takes to keep going instead of giving up. Money does not have to control your emotions or shrink your future. It can be the raw material for growth, healing, and a richer life — not just in dollars, but in dignity 🌱✨.