My relationship with money has always been a little different. Maybe some people will relate.
As a kid, you don't really worry about money. You don't worry about much at all. Life is simple in that way.
I grew up in a Marwadi family. For context, Marwadis come from western India and are traditionally business-oriented.
Looking back, one strange thing I've had is this: growing up, I didn't have a single close friend whose parents had a job. Everyone around me came from some kind of business background. Industrialists, shop owners, builders, contractors. Owners of something.
Part of that was geography. I grew up in a tier-3 city. But part of it was cultural. Business wasn't just common. It felt like default but wasn't until you start seeing people on other side.
That environment quietly planted an idea in my head: this is just how life works. You either build something, own something, or you won't make money.
At the same time, my dad talked to me a lot about money. Real money. How it actually works. Real estate. Cycles. Risk. He once told me about losing a lot during the 2008 crash.
One thing he still says sticks with me:
Making money can be very easy, and it can be very hard. You just need to know how.
That idea got deeply ingrained in my head. If you understand how money works, it feels almost mechanical. If you don't, it feels confusing and unfair. The same system produces wildly different outcomes depending on how well you understand it.
As I grew older, I started believing something slightly different: if you genuinely love what you do and work seriously at it, money eventually becomes a byproduct.
I'm building Finny in college right now, and one thing I fully believe at this point is this:
Money is not everything, but it affects almost everything.
You might not like it, but its true.
Building Finny has made me notice something. One pattern I see constantly, especially with Gen Z, is how people confuse being busy with making progress.
They track every dollar. Check bank accounts daily. Tweak spreadsheets. Optimize categories. It *feels* productive. Meanwhile, the boring thing like automatic saving, consistent investing, or increasing income get avoided because they're emotionally dull.
Money does very weird things to the human brain. People mentally label money even though money itself doesn't care. A tax refund feels like bonus money. Gambling winnings feel free. Salary feels serious.
It's the same dollars.
Completely different behavior.
Our brains are wired for safety. That's why spending money often *feels* safe.
You buy something and think, I can afford this, even if it's on a credit card.
The pain is delayed.
Reality comes later.
The same psychology shows up in investing.
Losing money hurts more than winning feels good. That asymmetry drives terrible decisions.
It's pure money psychology.
Most financial decisions aren't really math decisions. They're identity decisions.
People don't buy things for utility alone.
They buy because it says something about who they are or who they want to be.
Investor. Provider. Success story. Rebel. Minimalist.
Once you see this, money isn't about numbers anymore. It's about ego.
Everyone's a victim of it.
You might not want to believe it, but money is also status. It opens doors. It gives access. It changes how the world responds to you.
Circumstance and luck matter more than people like to admit. Ignoring that just turns finance into moral judgment.
I've always been interested in how wealth works. I had the privilege of growing up in a business-minded family, so I could learn quite a bit of stuff. What still blows my mind is that colleges don't teach this as a mandatory life skill.
They teach economics. Accounting. How to read financial statements for corporations.
But not how to manage your own money. The one subject that affects your entire life is optional, if it's taught at all.
I'm 20 as I write this. I haven't made a lot of money yet.
But I know I will.
Not in an arrogant way. In a quiet, internal way. In my head, I've already won. Reality just hasn't caught up yet.
Money isn't just math. It's a tool, yes, but beneath that it reveals fear, identity, insecurity, and belief.