It was the middle of the night, deep into winter, when I suddenly jolted awake with that horrible sinking feeling in my chest.
I wasn’t ill, and nothing dramatic had happened that day — but I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
I was in serious financial trouble, and I’d been kidding myself for years.
On paper, I looked responsible. My credit score was strong, new balance transfer offers kept landing in my inbox, and I always managed to shuffle debt around just in time.
But the truth? I was sitting on £15,000 of debt, and that was before even counting the mortgage.
The Illusion of “Managing” Debt
For nearly a decade, I told myself I had everything under control.
As long as one interest-free credit card could be swapped for another, I felt safe.
That night, though, I realised how fragile it all was.
One unexpected change — a job issue, a rise in rates, a family emergency — and the whole thing would crumble.
At 35, with two children, I had six credit cards plus buy-now-pay-later accounts with Klarna, Next, Argos and Very.
I’d even consolidated card debt into a loan, almost paid it down… then quietly racked up fresh balances alongside it. That realisation was brutal.
A Good Income — and Still Struggling
What made it harder to admit was that I earned a decent wage.
I work as a school careers adviser in Glasgow, on a salary comparable to a teacher’s, and our household income was solid.
But after my son arrived in 2015, money felt permanently tight.
So I leaned on credit for the things that didn’t quite fit into the budget.
A coffee grabbed on the way to work after a manic morning. A “quick” shop for milk that somehow cost £30.
A takeaway when I got home late and couldn’t face cooking.
None of it felt reckless — just small, harmless decisions that added up quietly, month after month.
The Fear That Changed Everything
Lying there at 2am, two thoughts hit me at once. If I failed to secure the next balance transfer, the interest alone would be devastating.
And if mortgage rates rose at the same time? We’d be sunk.
Panicking, I started searching for help online and stumbled across a book called How to Fund the Life You Want by Jonathan Hollow and Robin Powell.
It taught me something embarrassingly simple — how to actually budget.
Properly. Not guessing. Not hoping. Planning.
That’s when things finally began to change.
From Scraping By to Having a Safety Net
Once I put structure around my money, everything looked different.
For the first time in my adult life, I wasn’t living on the edge.
I built a £3,000 emergency fund in a cash ISA and put £5,000 into a stocks and shares ISA.
That sense of security was something I’d never known before.
I started sharing what I was learning on TikTok, under the name @amylearnstosave, and now more than 25,000 people follow along.
Especially after Christmas, when so many families feel stretched, I want people to know it is possible to stop relying on credit — even if you’ve been stuck in that cycle for years like I was.
Step One: Give Your Money a Job
The biggest breakthrough came when I stopped winging it.
I tried the popular 50/30/20 rule — 50 per cent essentials, 30 per cent fun, 20 per cent savings or debt — but it didn’t work for my situation.
My costs were too high, and my debt too heavy.
So I adjusted it. I now use a 60/10/30 split: 60 per cent on bills and essentials, 10 per cent for enjoyment, and 30 per cent straight towards debt and savings.
The exact percentages don’t matter. What matters is having a framework instead of guessing.
Step Two: Add Up the “Tiny” Treats
One calculation genuinely shocked me. My daily coffee habit — just £4 most weekdays — had quietly drained around £8,000 over nine years.
Because it never felt like “real” spending, I never questioned it.
That was a wake-up call. Now, every time I think “it’s only a few pounds,” I stop and check where that thinking might lead.
Step Three: Stop Letting One Balance Fool You
When all your money sits in one account, it’s easy to feel richer than you are.
A takeaway seems harmless until three big bills come out the next day.
I now separate everything. Bills stay put. Spending money goes into its own pot.
Groceries have their own space too. I even give myself a £400 monthly “fun” pot.
When that’s gone, it’s gone — and that alone has killed most impulse buys.
Step Four: Take the Chaos Out of Food Shopping
Supermarkets were a financial minefield for me, especially with kids in tow.
Now I do one online food shop a week. No wandering aisles.
No last-minute top-ups. No pleading at the tills.
Our weekly food spend used to sit around £200–£230.
Now it’s closer to £120 — simply because it’s planned instead of reactive.
Step Five: Check In With Your Money Regularly
I used to have no clue what our fixed costs really were.
Even groceries didn’t register as a regular expense.
Now I do three money check-ins a month. Right after payday, I map everything out.
Mid-month, I make sure nothing has drifted.
At the end, I review what worked and what didn’t. That rhythm keeps me honest and in control.
Step Six: Prepare for the Exhausting Days
Most of my overspending happened when I was shattered.
Late workdays almost guaranteed a takeaway.
So I plan for those moments now.
Freezer meals, slow cooker dinners, and easy backups mean I’m not relying on willpower when I’m already drained.
Step Seven: Remove the Pressure Altogether
My daughter is three, and saying no in shops used to be exhausting.
The constant battles wore me down — and I’d often give in.
Now, I don’t take the kids shopping. We choose treats together at home and add them to the online order.
No guilt, no stress, and far less unnecessary spending.
Looking Ahead
I didn’t get into debt overnight, and I didn’t escape it quickly either.
But once I stopped pretending and started paying attention, everything shifted.
If I can do it — after nine years of juggling and justifying — anyone can.
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