Ouch. That's what my financial advisor said to me?

Judy Tsuei

JANUARY 14

I discovered this shocking truth from my financial advisor…

Aloha, Wild Heart,

Lately, I’ve been working with an amazing woman I met serendipitously here in Taiwan about my financial health…

It turns out, Anna’s a big name in the blockchain industry, especially given that she’s one of the few women working within it.

We met in the lobby of our building, quickly discovering that she and I have daughters the same age attending the same school. So, we’ve spent a lot of time together taking the bus up and down our mountain…

“I want to start a personal finance coaching program,” she mentioned to me one day.

Now, just a month later, I’m her first beta client.

It’s through Anna’s amazingly kind and straightforward support that I’ve been able to ask hard questions of myself, of what I want for the future for my daughter and myself through this divorce — and even of my financial advisor.

As I aimed to gain clarity on investor fees and how often my portfolio is being rebalanced, my financial advisor wrote to me:

“When you had $300,000 in your account, we were rebalancing your investments more frequently.

Now that you only have $40,000, we’ve been doing it a lot less.”

WHAT!

At first, I felt sick…

I couldn’t believe I had saved that much money and over the course of 10 years, and now, because of LIFE and the choices I made along the way, I had so much less.

How could I not have known how much money was in my account before I spent almost all of it?

Well, because I had given my power over to someone else.

I thought that I was doing the “smart” thing by hiring a financial advisor and making regular contributions.

I had no idea that the onus was still on me to clearly know my numbers, to know where my money was going, and to know more about the person I tasked to handle it all…

Yes, my money afforded me a 10-year sabbatical of sorts to heal myself with a lot of personal growth opportunities and therapy.

Yes, my money allowed me to pursue a desire to become a yoga teacher.

Yes, my money allowed me to move around the country a few times.

Yes, my money even allowed me to lease a luxury car.

But I never felt confident in my spending, because I didn’t have a solid foundation from where I was living from, so I was always a bit anxious about where I stood.

I never really OWNED my money story.

Until now.

When I’m being asked to start my life anew.

After a few deep breaths, I emailed Anna.

“I guess I can either look at it as that I fucked up really hard, or that I was able to earn all of that money once before and I can do it all again and then some — this time, consciously.”

“Yes!” she replied. And, when we met in person, she wanted to encourage me. “It’s not easy being this open and forthcoming. You’re doing more than you think. I’m proud of you.”

Money is a fluid thing. Even the most successful people I know when it comes to monetary wealth are still learning how to navigate even greater financial health.

While there are countless elements of the unfolding of my divorce that I wish weren’t so, I keep choosing to look at it as everything working out FOR me. Even if I sometimes get lost in the swirling ruminations that I have to claw my way out of, I eventually get to a place where I remember to breathe and that everything will be different soon enough…

Without the situation I’m currently in, I don’t know if I would’ve had the strong impetus to reframe my entire relationship around money, so that I’m now excited to teach my daughter from a very early age on own her financial well-being well into adulthood.

I want her to have real independence, so that she can have the freedom to make decisions that are rooted in her integrity, rather than ever giving away her power to anyone else.

In any kind of relationship.

If you’re facing an extremely challenging life situation, what opportunities are actually unfolding for you?

Or, if you’re coasting on your hard work and smart choices, when was the last time you truly celebrated yourself?

Mahalo,
Judy