There’s a certain thrill in thinking you can control life with a spreadsheet. Or in my case, a phone app that makes a very judgmental kaching every time you spend. Last week, with a sick little one at home, doctor appointments stacked like teetering Jenga blocks, and a looming six-month debate over whether to book an expensive holiday, I decided to track every pound I spent. Yes, every single one. I thought it would calm me down, give me control, and stop me spiralling. Spoiler: it didn’t.
The Illusion of Control
I started confidently on Monday, imagining the serene, self-aware adult I would become. By Wednesday, the omelette roll with brown sauce at Greggs already had me second-guessing my life choices. By day six, I was thinking, “Why on earth am I doing this?” Every swipe on Monzo was accompanied by that dreadful kaching, and each tiny purchase became a tiny moral failing.
It turns out that when life is messy—your child is ill, appointments are clashing, and your brain is somewhere between exhaustion and existential dread—tracking money isn’t calming. It’s like trying to organise sand with tweezers.
- Coffee at 8:15am
- An impromptu Greggs omelette roll (brown sauce, naturally)
- Extra milk for the cereal that everyone decided to eat in bulk
All of these little moments, previously trivial, suddenly felt like monumental decisions. I was trying to control what I could, because everything I couldn’t—sick children, work schedules, future holidays—was spinning out of my grasp.
What Tracking Taught Me (the Hard Way)
Tracking every pound is a superpower in the 0–10K phase. You notice patterns, small leaks, and can make meaningful adjustments. But in the 10–50K phase, like where I am now, it’s less useful. Systems, investments, and automation do the heavy lifting. What I was doing? I was obsessively logging every Greggs trip and wondering if my indulgence would tip the balance of the universe.
By day six, I made two big decisions that shook me awake. First, we weren’t going to Japan—there was no rational reason to stress myself about that purchase yet. Second, I needed to breathe. Not budget, not track, just breathe. It’s funny how quickly a week of micro-tracking can strip away any sense of perspective you thought you had.
“You can’t spreadsheet your way to peace.”
It’s true. Control comes from recognising what’s worth controlling, and letting go of the rest.
The Vicious Circle of Guilt
Here’s the thing: the more I tracked, the guiltier I felt. Every latte skipped, every indulgent snack avoided, every moment spent staring at my phone was just another opportunity for anxiety. There’s a vicious circle in obsessive tracking: you try to control spending to feel calm, but it makes you more stressed, so you micro-manage even harder.
I started noticing subtle changes in behaviour: I’d skip small pleasures because I “couldn’t afford them” on paper, even though the truth was I could, and life was short. My obsessive checking became a quiet source of stress that bled into everything else.
It was absurd. I could see it in the omelette roll with brown sauce. I was overthinking breakfast like it was a life-or-death decision, and yet the real problem wasn’t money—it was exhaustion and stress.
Trusting the Systems, Not the Spreadsheet
The biggest lesson I took from this week is that there’s a time and place for tracking, and a time to trust your systems.
- 0–10K phase: Micro-tracking can reveal patterns, prevent leaks, and accelerate accumulation.
- 10–50K phase: Systems, automation, and broad categories matter more than individual pennies.
What’s worth tracking now isn’t every coffee or snack—it’s how I’m feeling. Am I stressed? Am I tired? Am I giving myself time to breathe? These are the indicators that need attention, not a spreadsheet full of omelette rolls.
Healthy tracking habits for early savers:
- Track categories, not individual items.
- Log after the day, not after every transaction.
- Notice patterns without judging yourself.
- Use apps like Monzo to help, but don’t let kaching rule your mood.
Breathing, Not Budgeting
After that week, I realised my mental health required more attention than my bank balance. A few small shifts made a huge difference:
- Morning five-minute breathing exercises
- Switching off notifications for everything that wasn’t essential
- Trusting the automatic systems to do the heavy lifting
- Letting the little one cuddle through the chaos instead of stressing about expense
When I stopped obsessing over the minute details, life breathed back into me. People got better, the little one recovered, and I regained some perspective. Tracking every pound may have been a twitch, a need for control, but letting go was the real reset.
Gentle Questions for the Road
Reflecting on that week, I can see clearly that obsessing over money doesn’t bring calm—it just reveals what’s really broken: stress, exhaustion, and lack of perspective. Tracking has its place, but it’s a tool, not a solution. Sometimes the solution is just breathing, stepping back, and noticing what matters.
As you read this, consider:
- What small ways are you trying to control life that might be adding stress?
- Which financial systems could you trust instead of micromanaging?
- How do you notice your feelings around money versus the actual numbers?
- Is there a moment when stepping back might be more valuable than tracking every pound?
Tracking every pound taught me that control is seductive but temporary. It’s satisfying to know where every coin goes, but peace doesn’t live in a spreadsheet. It lives in the small, quiet moments—cuddles, deep breaths, and the acceptance that some things are beyond our reach.
So, next time your phone kaching starts mocking you, remember: it’s not the pound you need to control—it’s your own headspace.