I’ve been in financial spirals before — the kind where every morning starts with, “What can I tweak today?”
You know the type: constantly running numbers, overpaying here, reallocating there, trying to shave pennies from one category to funnel them into another, thinking every small move is the key to perfection. For me, the spiral often looked like overpaying my mortgage: £175 per month, then £380, then £500… and before I knew it, £1,000 a month, eating rice and beans for every meal because, well, it looked sensible on paper.
I’d be lying if I said this didn’t come with anxiety, self-judgement, and the feeling that I’d somehow failed at adulthood. Society says mortgage-free = responsible. Parents had done it. My partner had done it twice before meeting me. There’s a show called How to Live Mortgage Free, and even though I wasn’t planning to live on a boat, the messaging was clear: if you’re not obsessively overpaying, you’re failing.
So I set myself a challenge: the real change would be to stop changing anything for six months. Not adjusting priorities, not tinkering with automation, not overpaying beyond what’s planned. Just let the plan run.
The Conversation That Started Everything
I knew I needed a way out of the spiral. That’s when I brought in my partner — someone to help me see another option.
We talked. Really talked. Not spreadsheets, not graphs. Just: “What actually matters right now?”
What emerged was simple but profound:
- We needed to plan around the season of life we’re in. That means a holiday before school starts. It means accounting for major works in our block over the next couple of years. It means planning for redecorating next year.
- Our financial system should support life, not consume it. The obsessively optimised, constantly rebalanced plan wasn’t serving us; it was stressing us.
- Most importantly, it became clear that simplicity, alignment, and automation were more valuable than perfection.
This conversation shifted the focus from constant optimisation to thoughtful, deliberate planning.
Why Doing Nothing Feels So Wrong
Here’s the truth: doing nothing is emotionally hard.
I’m someone who craves control. Even knowing the plan is automated and aligned with our priorities, there’s this constant itch: Could I make it better? Should I tweak it slightly?
The inner dialogue is messy: the plan is already 90% perfect, but I can’t wait until April to adjust anything. I feel the tug of “what if I could optimise further?” alongside the rational knowledge that the system is already working. Anxiety, excitement, and guilt collide in a way that only overthinkers know.
Society doesn’t help. We’re constantly told that being financially responsible is about maximising every opportunity, overpaying mortgages, investing aggressively, and never enjoying the money you earn. My upbringing reinforced this. The pressure isn’t just internal; it’s cultural. And resisting it, even with a solid plan, is a struggle.
The Plan I Thought Was Simple
I used to think I had it figured out.
- Round-ups automatically moved money into different savings buckets.
- Priorities rotated, focusing on one thing at a time.
- Mortgage overpayments were scheduled every three months — or sooner — depending on what I calculated.
But it wasn’t simple. I was constantly checking balances, calculating scenarios, and wondering if I could squeeze another £50 or £100 somewhere. Every threshold triggered a “should I adjust?” panic. Even when everything was automated, I felt compelled to monitor, tweak, and optimise endlessly.
It worked, in theory, but mentally, it was exhausting. The plan consumed more energy than it saved.
The New, Actually Simple Plan
After reflection and talking with my partner, I stripped the system down to what truly matters.
- Fixed costs: £999
- Investing: £250
- Guilt-free spending: £450
- Savings:
- Emergency Fund: £30/month
- Holiday Fund: £200
- Home Fund (60/40 split): £120
- Mortgage Overpayment: £150
- Baby Fund: £30
All of it is now fully automated. I don’t have to move money, check thresholds, or second-guess myself. My only job is to spend the guilt-free portion on things that matter to me — like bamboo socks last month, which honestly made my feet ridiculously happy. Money is now serving life, not anxiety.
This plan is aligned with the season of life we’re in. It allows for holidays before school, accounts for upcoming major works and redecorating, and gives space to enjoy time with our child. Simplicity doesn’t mean stagnation; it means intentionally choosing where effort matters.
The Hardest Part: Sitting on My Hands
Even with this clarity, resisting the urge to tinker is challenging.
I still look at the numbers. I think about overpaying slightly more. I consider “just running one more simulation” to see if I can optimise. It’s tempting. It’s loud. It’s messy.
But I don’t act.
Every day I sit with that itch, feel the pull to change, and remind myself: nothing moves until April. It’s a small victory each time.
The challenge isn’t just financial; it’s emotional. Trusting past-me’s decisions, letting go of control, and accepting that good enough is actually enough takes constant practice.
What I Have Learnt So Far
After two months, some lessons have crystallised:
- Trusting your plan is a muscle. Resisting tweaks strengthens it.
- Simplicity is powerful. It frees mental space, reduces stress, and lets life happen around you.
- Seasons of life matter. Plans should reflect what’s important now, not theoretical perfection.
- Money should serve living, not vice versa. Spending a bit on joy — like socks that make you happy — is not frivolous. It’s grounding.
- Resisting optimisation builds calm. Each small victory over impulse reinforces that stability is valuable.
Tips for Fellow Overthinkers
If your mind is constantly spinning with “what if” scenarios, try this:
- Look at your current season of life. What really matters right now? A holiday? Home improvements? Childcare? Focus on those.
- Choose 1–2 priorities. Make sure they have clear endpoints and serve this season, not just some vague “perfect plan.”
- Automate what you can. Free your mental energy for life.
- Let simple be enough. Complexity is tempting but rarely more effective.
Gentle Questions for the Road
Doing nothing is hard. But it’s also freeing. I’m slowly learning to enjoy life with my child, to spend guilt-free, and to trust that the plan will work while I live.
- What part of your financial life is unnecessarily complicated right now?
- Which priorities in your life deserve focus in this season, and what can wait?
- Where could automation or simplicity give you more mental space?
- How might you resist the urge to tweak for 30, 90, or 180 days and see what that feels like?