“Don’t ever say you don’t have money,” my mom used to say. “Even if you have one sen, you still have money.” (Side note: “sen” is Malaysia’s version of a cent.)
It’s a piece of advice her father gave her. I got the point of it, truly I did.
But when I was sitting in the doctor’s office as she gave me the rundown of how much my cancer treatments would cost and I didn’t have medical insurance, “one sen” wasn’t paying for chemo anytime soon.
This is what Ken Honda calls “money blocks.” I came across the term while going through his Money EQ program on Mindvalley. And it brought in all sorts of “Oh shit, can I even afford to live?” worry.
Hold up, what’s a money block?
Money blocks are the unseen emotional patterns that… block… money…
Okay, okay, yes, sarcasm.
That aside, one thing you need to remember, as Ken explains it, is that “money is energy.” And it’s meant to come in and go out freely, like breathing.
Now, when that flow gets disrupted, that’s a money block.
It’s subconscious resistance to receiving, keeping, or growing money. For instance, when someone offers to pay you and you say, “Oh no, that’s too much.” Or when you feel uncomfortable charging what you’re worth, that, too, is a money block.
What’s more, they often come from emotional pain or “money wounds.” These are past experiences or family patterns that taught you something limiting about money. Examples? Your parents fighting about bills, being told “money doesn’t grow on trees,” or growing up with scarcity or guilt about having more than others. (You can read about my money beliefs in Part 1 of this series.)
On top of that, they show up as repeating patterns. Like, maybe you always lose money after a big win, or stay stuck in low-paying jobs, or find yourself unable to save despite earning more. According to Ken, that repetition is a sign of a hidden emotional block.
Interestingly, psychologists have found something similar. A 2021 study calls them “financial shame spirals,” where emotions like guilt and unworthiness literally drive repeated money struggles.
“Unless you face this feeling of your past pain and then heal the wounds and pain around this feeling,” says Ken, “you feel always guilty for getting more or getting a better job.”
That’s why he advocates for healing these emotional wounds. Because when they’re left unchecked, they quietly interfere with how we handle and attract money.
Turns out, money blocks can be inherited, too
“Who in your family is blocking the money flow?” is the question Ken poses. “Without us knowing, we still carry a lot of pain, not only ours but pain of our parents.”
Wounds are also generational, so it seems. Who knew? And with anything generational, healing usually starts with awareness. So I started looking at the money stories that shaped my parents.
My mom and her limiting beliefs about money
My mom’s family wasn’t wealthy, but she grew up surrounded by money. You see, she’s related to the Sultan of her home state. Despite that, my grandfather himself wasn’t a wealthy man.
With seven children and limited means, my grandparents sent some of their kids to live with relatives who were better off. My mom went to live with her aunt, whose husband was what Malays call an “orang besar.”
That translates, literally, to “big person.” In local culture, that meant status. Big person = big money, big influence, big lifestyle, and all that came with it.
My mom went to an elite school, complete with a chauffeur. But behind that glamour, she was taught how to serve, be useful, and not to ask for too much.
As an adult, she worked for her own money. But once she married, she gave that up and followed my dad wherever his job took him.
Though she was surrounded by wealth, her life was tied to others’ income. (Her “even one sen is still money” makes perfect sense now.)
When she did have the chance to spend, she filled the house with fine china and crystals. These, I suppose, were small ways to claim a sense of ownership.
Beneath it all was her need to give. She funded my return to college and even once believed an old “You’ve won money!” scam, hoping it meant she could help her kids out.
Her relationship with money has always been emotional. Cautious, yes, but hopeful, too. Ken would call her a control type, where she feels secure only when she’s holding the reins.
But for me, I see it more as her way of creating safety in a world that kept reminding her that money wasn’t hers to have.
My dad and his money beliefs
My dad grew up comfortable. His father had a good position, and money wasn’t a problem. That is, until his parents divorced. Back then, settlements weren’t what they are now, but my grandmother fought for a house. That became their safety net.
Still, my dad and his older brother ended up taking care of their mother and nine siblings. Comfort turned into responsibility.
So when it came to his own kids, he vowed we’d never feel that kind of uncertainty. Any problem we had, he’d solve it with money.
For instance, I remember, in my 20s, there was a pair of shoes I wanted. Not needed but wanted. I waited weeks, making sure it wasn’t just an impulse. The day I finally decided to buy them, I was at the checkout when my dad swooped in and paid for them.
That’s how he’s always been. If he can afford it, he’ll handle it.
Research shows many parents provide financial support even when their children could manage on their own. My dad did exactly this: any problem my brothers and I had, he tried to fix it with money. Providing is his love language.
Ken calls that the fear type. That’s the one who works hard and gives more than necessary, because somewhere deep down, they’re still afraid of not having enough.
And then, there’s me
Nooo, that’s not me… is something I wish I could say. But who am I kidding?
When I was sitting in the doctor’s office as she listed the costs of my cancer treatments, my main thought was, “How am I going to pay for all this?”
Then, during a more recent family crisis where I had to cover debts and costs I didn’t create, I was right back in “How much money do we need to fix this?” mode.
And, when I’m staring at that shopping cart, there’s that voice of “Do you need it? Or do you want it?” Even if I do really need it and can afford it, there’s always a hesitation, followed by “Shouldn’t this money go somewhere more important?”
So, “who,” asks Ken, “is still influencing you around money?”
In reflection, I am both my mother and father when it comes to money mindset. My mom’s scarcity and my dad’s fix-it instinct.
It’s made me wonder, actually, if it’s made me feel reluctant towards financial abundance. Like not wanting to take on a bigger role (with bigger pay) at work and chalking it up to “I don’t want those responsibilities.” Or pricing my side hustle services at what I’m worth. Or even admitting to myself the price of what I’m worth.
As it turns out, researchers have found that the way parents save, spend, and talk about money strongly predicts how their children handle it as adults. But Ken’s antidote for all this? Detach from stories that keep you stuck.
“If you heal the past and start having—or “updating” is a word I’d rather use—updating your belief system, you can have a totally different life,” he says.
I feel that if I can do that, maybe I’ll finally make space for money to stay (let’s pray for more than just one sen!).
And you?
Let’s go back to Ken’s question: Who’s influencing you around money?
Your mom? Your dad? What were their money blocks like? And are they the ones shaping yours?
These are uncomfortable but necessary questions to ask ourselves. Especially in a climate where prices keep climbing, people are moving back in with their parents, and stability feels more like a myth than a plan.
But maybe instead of fearing the fearful, we can start finding our own version of happy money.
So tell me, what’s one money story from your family that you’ve noticed showing up in your own life?
Send me a message. I’d love to hear it. xo