Marisol is 46. She lives in a shared craftsman-style home in the Pacific Northwest with two other women in their 30s and 40s, fellow artists, seekers, and soft rebels. The kind of home with mismatched chairs, prayer flags, handmade mugs, and books stacked sideways. Some months, it feels like a sanctuary. Other months, like the walls are closing in.
She’s a painter and mixed media artist who occasionally teaches community workshops and sells prints at art fairs. Her income is wildly unpredictable. She might make $4,000 in one month from a gallery sale, then scrape by on $700 the next. She’s also done side gigs like nannying, editing zines, working the door at music venues, and most recently, pet sitting. Marisol has never had a 401(k), and when she hears the word “retirement,” she half-laughs, half-cringes.
Her story isn’t just about money. It’s about trauma. About healing. About surviving on the margins and coming into a new kind of awareness, maybe for the first time.
Background: What She Comes From
Marisol is Afro-Latina, the youngest of five. She grew up in a chaotic home, often stepping into a caretaker role from a young age. Her mother was overwhelmed; her father wasn’t in the picture. There was emotional neglect, and worse.
She left home at 17, and never really went back. Her twenties were about surviving: staying in punk houses, working food service, making zines, falling in and out of relationships, trying to turn her pain into beauty.
She’s proud of her identity, her art, her chosen family. But there’s a quiet grief under the surface. The kind that shows up in her journals, her dreams, her relationships with money and stability.
Because while she’s built a rich, layered inner life, she’s also been in survival mode for decades.
What She’s Facing Now
Marisol doesn’t have savings. She doesn’t know how much she owes on her credit card because the statement gives her anxiety. She knows she has medical debt somewhere from a past ER visit but doesn’t remember how much. She’s never invested a dollar. She’s been undercharging for her art for years and struggles with feelings of unworthiness when it comes to money.
There’s a sense that she’s “bad with money,” but in truth, she’s just never had the tools, or the emotional safety, to learn.
Now, at 46, she feels the tension rising. She’s tired. Her body is asking for rest. She knows she can’t keep living gig to gig. She wants to keep her freedom, her creativity, her identity, but she also wants a safety net. A little breathing room. A way to not be in crisis every time rent is due.
She doesn’t need to be rich. She needs to feel safe.
Where We Begin: Ground Rules for Marisol
Marisol doesn’t need tough love. She’s already lived through it. She needs clarity, kindness, and truth. So we start here:
1. You Are Not Broken Because You Didn’t Learn This
Your trauma is not your fault. The way you’ve coped, through avoidance, undercharging, staying small, those were survival strategies. Thank them. Then begin the slow, gentle work of building new ones.
2. Your Life Doesn’t Have to Look Like Anyone Else’s
You don’t need a white-picket fence or a corporate job. But you do need a plan. Freedom without structure becomes chaos. Let’s give your art, your life, a financial container that honors who you are.
Step 1: Get Clear on the Numbers Without Shame
This is the hardest part. But it’s necessary.
Set a 20-minute timer. Pull out your bank statement, your credit card login, your Venmo. Don’t try to fix anything, just look. Write it down in a notebook or spreadsheet:
- What’s your average income per month (not best month, average)?
- How much do you owe, and to whom?
- What are your fixed costs (rent, food, phone)?
- What are your variable ones (coffee, art supplies, Uber, weed)?
This isn’t about blame. This is about clarity. Clarity creates choice.
Step 2: Create a Rhythm-Based Budget
Traditional budgets don’t work for Marisol. They feel restrictive, punishing. So we use rhythm instead of rigidity.
When income is inconsistent, base your lifestyle off your lowest month, not your best. If you usually make between $1,200 and $2,800, build your base expenses around $1,200. When you have a higher month, that extra money doesn’t get spent, it gets assigned.
Create three “buckets”:
- Essentials (Rent, groceries, bills)
- Joy + Expression (Art, wellness, anything soul-nourishing)
- Safety Net (Savings, debt payments, investments)
Even $50 a month toward savings is a win. The goal is rhythm and repeatability.
Step 3: Heal Your Relationship with Earning
Marisol needs to stop undercharging. This isn’t about greed, it’s about sustainability.
We work on:
- Pricing her art with a formula: materials + time + emotion = minimum price.
- Offering sliding scale workshops where the low tier still pays her fairly.
- Exploring side gigs that align with her energy (like private art mentorships or working with teens).
No more gigs that drain her. Only work that supports her nervous system and values.
Step 4: Build a Trauma-Informed Emergency Fund
The word “emergency fund” can trigger dread. So we reframe it:
Call it a “Sanctuary Fund.” A place to rest when things go sideways.
Start with the goal of $1,000. Keep it in a savings account, not too easy to access, but not hidden. Every month, a small auto-transfer goes in, even if it’s $10. Consistency beats perfection.
Step 5: Invest in a Way That Feels Respectful
Marisol is new to investing. She doesn’t want to support corporations that cause harm. But she’s open to learning.
So we start with:
- A Roth IRA, if eligible (tax-free growth, flexible withdrawal rules)
- Invest in broad-market index funds, which are low-fee and don’t require constant management
- Choose an investing platform that allows socially responsible investing (SRI) filters
We keep it simple and aligned.
Step 6: Let Community Be Part of the Plan
Marisol isn’t meant to do this alone. She thrives in circles, collaborations, shared spaces. So we encourage:
- Skill shares: Can someone help her with budgeting if she offers art in return?
- Accountability pods: Small trusted groups that check in on money goals monthly.
- BIPOC-centered financial spaces that affirm her values and heritage.
Healing money stories is relational. She doesn’t have to bootstrap this journey.
The Big Picture: Marisol’s Money Isn’t Just About Math
It’s about making peace with the past. Creating a future that holds her gently. Building a life where her art doesn’t starve her. And where her softness doesn’t get mistaken for weakness.
She may never be conventional. But with a little structure, a few gentle systems, and a shift in how she sees herself, Marisol can be both free and financially well.
And that’s a kind of wealth no one can take.
The Broke College Student 
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