I was always lucky with money. Not good, really, in that when I wanted something, I usually just bought it without thinking. I never really budgeted or haggled or clipped coupons or shopped at Boxing Day sales. But I made enough money to live within my means, and my tastes are simple, so paying the credit card off at the end of each month was never an issue. I was not a splurger.

Once I had kids, the idea of spending money on myself went from a sometimes-thing to a total no go. Even buying myself things like a new pair of shoes or a new t-shirt felt frivolous. I turned down trips and events with friends and my sisters because it felt wrong to spend money on just me. Money was for the family! It was for the kids! It was for everyone but me.

About two years ago, I snapped. I bought something just for me. I didn’t ask anyone, or seek approval. I just took the money from our savings and spent it on something really expensive. Something I wanted for myself.

No regrets.

This was right around when I turned 50, and since then, I’ve been in kind of a spending spiral. I mean, what am I waiting for? Old age? Already I huff and puff when I go up and down stairs and I have to buy new pants every three months as I get softer and softer. What makes me think I’ll be able to spend my money and enjoy it when I’m 80? I can barely do it now.

But more importantly, that turning point made me realize that I, alone, just me, am worth it. I am worth the good china. I am worth beautiful things that bring me joy. I am worth adventures that feed my soul and trips that give me stories that I’ll be retelling for years to come.

Now that I’m on my own, I do realize I can’t just have *everything*. I’m trying to rein it in a bit.

But also: treating myself right feels right, whatever the cost.