You know you grew up poor when these 7 moments still haunt you

We don’t always talk about it, but some memories follow us into adulthood like lint clinging to a sweater.

If you grew up without much, you probably still carry certain reflexes, stories, and split-second worries in your nervous system.

I know I do; they show up at the checkout line, in relationships, and even when there’s finally enough in the bank.

As a former financial analyst who now writes about how minds work, I’ve learned that money scarcity shapes behavior long after the budget changes.

These are survival skills and they can be softened with awareness, practice, and a bit of compassion for the kid who kept things together the best she could.

Let’s talk about seven moments that still echo, and what to do when they pop up:

1) Flinching at the total

Ever find yourself rehearsing the total before the cashier says it, just in case? My body still does a tiny brace when the number pops up on the screen.

It doesn’t matter if I can afford it today.

Muscle memory remembers the days when one surprise item meant putting something back and pretending it was a “change of mind.”

If this hits home, try naming the reaction without judgment: “Oh, that’s my old calculator brain trying to keep me safe.”

Afterwards, take a slow breath and scan for present facts.

Do I have room for this purchase? Is there a cheaper substitute that would feel just as good?

The goal is to update it.

2) Hoarding the “good” stuff

Did you grow up saving fancy soap or snacks for a special occasion that never arrived? I still catch myself rationing the nice olive oil like it’s liquid gold.

When resources were scarce, saving the best for later was wisdom.

The problem is when later always outranks now.

One small experiment helps: Pick one “nice” thing and use it immediately this week.

Ask yourself, “What am I actually protecting?” Often, it’s the fear of not being able to replace it.

Start retraining your nervous system by creating small, reliable replacements when you can.

You’re showing your brain the supply chain didn’t vanish.

3) Saying yes to every opportunity

When you’ve known insecurity, opportunity feels like a lifeboat, so you grab all of them.

Extra shifts, side hustles, favors that feel like networking.

I used to treat my calendar like a game of Tetris, stacking every open slot because idle time felt irresponsible.

Here’s the reframe that changed me: Scarcity taught me to maximize; stability asks me to prioritize.

Before saying yes, I run a two-part filter, like “Will this move my values forward, and will it move my energy forward?”

If it’s a no on either, I pause.

Hustle got us here, so strategy will take us farther.

4) Feeling guilty for wanting more

“Be grateful for what you have” is useful wisdom, but many of us learned it as a silencer.

Wanting more felt disloyal to the sacrifices people made for us.

I still remember sitting at a friend’s house with a full fridge and thinking, is it rude to want this life too?

A quote I keep handy: “Gratitude and desire are not enemies.”

You can thank your current reality while building a new one.

Try a simple journaling prompt: “I’m grateful for X, and I’m reaching for Y.”

Say it out loud, and let your nervous system hold both.

That both-and muscle is a powerful growth tool.

5) Over-explaining every purchase

Do you narrate your decisions like a defense attorney?

“I bought running shoes, but they were on sale, and my old pair had holes, and I had a coupon, and…”

Same, I used to provide a cost-benefit analysis to anyone within earshot, because growing up I felt I had to justify every expense.

As a former analyst, I love a spreadsheet, but relationships aren’t audits.

Practice a lighter script: “I got these because I’ll use them a lot.” Period.

If someone pushes for more, notice whether you’re seeking permission.

Your financial choices can be private, even if you’re proud of them.

6) Stocking up “just in case”

There’s a line between thoughtful preparation and anxiety shopping.

I garden and I’m vegan, so I keep a solid pantry of grains, beans, and seeds.

The difference between calm planning and panic stockpiling is the feeling in your chest.

One is anchored, while the other is racing.

A practical rule that helps me: A two-deep system.

For staples, I keep one in use and one backup; when the first is half gone, I add it to the list.

That rhythm respects the impulse to be ready without letting fear drive the cart.

Ask yourself, “Is this purchase solving a real problem or soothing a feeling?”

Both are valid, but it’s good to know which one you’re addressing.

7) Shrinking in rooms that look expensive

Ever walk into a sleek office, boutique gym, or high-end restaurant and feel like you should whisper?

Scarcity often teaches us to take up less space, to be grateful for access, to not break anything.

I still remember presenting to a board in my analyst days, wearing the most careful blazer I owned, and fighting the urge to become wallpaper.

A grounding practice: Plant your feet, lengthen your spine, and choose one object in the room you can claim with your eyes, like the potted plant or the window line.

Silently say, “I belong in any room I’m willing to learn in,” then act like someone paying your own admission, not winning a golden ticket.

Final thoughts

When the old reflex shows up, what would the most resourced version of you do next?

Maybe she inhales, smiles at the cashier, and lets the good olive oil land in the cart without a debate, maybe she says no to the extra shift and yes to a quiet hour that lets tomorrow’s mind think clearly, or maybe she takes the seat at the table and uses her full voice.

You earned the right to live differently from how you started, so let today’s choices be proof.