I grew up with privilege – and a constant undertone of financial angst

I will never forget the Christmas my dad could have gone to jail. Ok slight exaggeration, but he could have gotten into serious trouble...

It was a sweltering December and we were lucky enough to be at our beach house in Mangawhai Heads, north of Auckland.

The smell of Christmas croissants (Mum’s speciality) wafted through the house. Our Santa sacks were rustling at the foot of our bunk beds, and and my siblings and I we were bursting with probably somewhat annoying levels of excitement.

It was a family tradition to drag our Santa sacks on to our parents’ bed, and rip through the presents as quickly as we could. Santa often got my sister Lucy and me the same presents so it was imperative to remain focused on your own personal sack, otherwise you’d ruin most of the surprises.

It was a privileged middle-class scenario for sure – but not one without an undertone of financial anxiety. That was a constant in my childhood.

One of my presents was a flat 15x15cm object. “PLEASE BE A CD,” I remember thinking. I tore off the wrapping and there it was, my very own (homemade) CD.

My Dad had gone to a store, copied off The Gorillaz music, put it on a CD, then returned the original CD to the store. Not only that, but he had done some DIY CD cover art. I clearly remember spotting the paper rips down the side that gave his handiwork away.

It’s probably no surprise to hear that, as a result of this memory, I cannot stand to hear the Gorillaz.

Keeping up with the Jones's

My dad is nothing short of nifty. If there's a way to save a dollar, he will find it. I was home in New Zealand last summer (I'm currently based in London) when Dad walked in on me doing some laundry and found I’d added a little too much washing powder. So he reached into the machine and scoop some out. Would have surely saved a good .0002 cents.

When I was younger, if I left the room without turning a light off, it was as though I'd taken a hammer to the side of his car. While we by no means were hard done by (in fact quite the opposite), I grew up with a distinct awareness that we were living ever so slightly outside of our means. My parents had overextended themselves by sending all three kids to private schools, so there was a constant contrast between our friends' lives and our reality at home.

I want to reiterate how aware of my privilege I am. I know my financial anxiety pales in comparison to that of parents who can't afford to buy their kids school uniforms, or food for lunch. But it wasn't until I left school that I realised the middle-class bubble I'd been living in, because my feeling growing up was that we couldn't keep up with the people around us.

Regardless of my privilege, financial anxiety is something I've taken with me into adulthood. Though it wasn't until recently that I realised where it came from, or how much it still held me back.

The price of watermelons

I was visiting Dad a few months ago and he was banging on about how cheap watermelons were at the moment. He went on about it for so long I suggested we stop in at the supermarket so he could snag the deal. My darling step-mum ran into the supermarket to do his bidding, but when she came out with a rather small watermelon, Dad was devastated. He couldn’t believe she had paid $11 for that measly melon and sent her back in to return it.

I said, 'Dad you wanted watermelon just enjoy it!' Plus who returns a piece of fruit? Reasonably quiet for the rest of our car journey home I realised I was a carbon copy of my father when it came to how I relate to money.

I thought about the time I wanted to visit a friend for her birthday but left booking the return flights way too late. The price was sickening but I had no choice to pay for them as we'd already put deposits down on accommodation. I knew just the person to rope in to try and find me the best deal: Mike Hallwright. He sat with me for four hours as we trawled websites.

The fact that we often inherit our financial attitudes – both good and bad from our parents is well established. Penny pinchers, fritterers and astute investors have seldom fallen far from the tree. Sometimes it’s not just parents who influence us – the best-selling book (44 million copies in 20 years) Rich Dad Poor Dad is about the author Robert Kiyosaki’s own (poor) Dad and his best friend’s (rich) Dad and how both men shaped his thoughts around money.

Insight is power

Realising you’ve taken on a parent’s attitudes is helpful – because rather than just blindly following their path, you can decide which parts of their approach you’d like to keep and which parts you'll assign to family history.

I am incredibly grateful to my dad for how resourceful I am (if I could read a map I would win The Amazing Race), and I do see huge value in being able to stretch a dollar. But sometimes, in my anxiety, I’ve got the cost/benefit ratio wrong and I’ve saved a few measly dollars by sacrificing hours I’ll never get back.

All the times I decided to walk instead of Uber, or felt guilty about buying something I actually needed now make me feel a little bit sad. There is a fine line between being clever and considerate with your money, and being stingy. Between being energy conscious with your home lighting and feeling paralysed by guilt if you accidentally leave on a lamp.

In recent months I have decided to not let the difference of a few cents take up space in my head. I want to value my time more than I value my money, knowing that one of those things is something I can always work for more of.

Watch our full interview with Breakfast: