LOUISE THOMPSON: 'Overnight I became unemployed'

Why am I only getting smart about money at 34? It’s probably something to do with the fact that I lost two years of my life to serious illness, during which I went, overnight, from being the main breadwinner to practically unemployed, earning about five per cent of my usual salary.

At our lowest point it looked as though Ryan and I might lose the house we had spent seven years making into our family home. When you’ve stared the prospect of losing everything you’ve worked for square in the face, that’s one hell of a wake-up call.

But, even so, why wasn’t I money-smart before I went through this trauma? The truth is I was on a hamster wheel – living day to day, never looking forward, never looking back. I had no strategy; I certainly wasn’t one of those people who made a ten-year plan (or even a two-year one).

We were comfortable – and I know what a privilege that is – but money came in, money went out. I used to blast £1,000 on a Net-A-Porter order then leave things in the box as I had no time to return them. (Now I use circular fashion sites to gain extra income and I sell stuff on Depop.) I guess I was making more than I was spending but I rarely checked my bank balance. I suppose I was too busy getting sucked into the social-media vortex of being an influencer and creating content to really notice the pay cheques. Then I nearly died in childbirth, and everything ground to a halt.

Two life-threatening haemorrhages and the PTSD that followed changed all my relationships. I’ve written in this column before about how the trauma impacted my bond with my mother and almost killed my relationship with Ryan (a whole other column for another day, I’m sure). But one relationship I really didn’t expect to be impacted by my illness is the one I have with my money.

Although I hadn’t been paying attention to my day-to-day spending, I have always been a saver. When I was a child, I would happily put away a year’s worth of pocket money in pound coins in my little money box (which I actually still have because I’m a hoarder, too – are you starting to see the pattern?) before treating myself.

This habit carried on into adulthood, but I didn’t really know what I was saving for. I wasn’t working towards a big holiday or home improvements; the money just sat there – and not even in some sensible high-interest account.

When I was still seriously ill in hospital, I remember looking at my savings account and thinking: what’s the point?! I could have had a million quid in there (I didn’t, by the way) but what good would it be if I was dead?

I can recall an overwhelming feeling that I needed to take my whole family on a massive holiday together the moment I got out of hospital. I also had a strong desire to get married. Why not spend all my money on a big lavish party? Then I got more sick, mentally this time, with PTSD, and the idea of planning anything at all became irrelevant.

Thank god I didn’t blow the lot because, in the end, my lifetime of saving kept a roof over our heads.

I’m self-employed so I hadn’t planned to take much maternity leave before starting work again, then, suddenly, I was too sick to work and, while I was in hospital, Ryan became the sole earner overnight. He also had to take care of me and our new baby, which left little room for building his own career.

This is when the implications of us both being self-employed hit home – not so much for me because, at that time, I was so unwell I didn’t really understand what was going on around us.

Ryan did, though, and he really worried about our finances. He was lumped with this huge responsibility, and taking on all the stress by himself, which severely affected his mental health. By nature he is a doer and a fixer. Suddenly he was powerless to help me, but he also had to take charge of making all the payments. He never once said to me, ‘I need to use your bank card’, and he sheltered me from money worries, but I don’t think the fear has ever fully left him. I’ve come out the other side, but he still feels like he was robbed of time when so many thrive in their career.

Our worst point was when we came very close to having to sell the house that Ryan and I had worked hard to build into a home. Moving house is challenging at the best of times but had we been forced to move just after I’d given birth, that’s unthinkable. (I say this with the utmost respect because I know someone who had to do just that.)

In the end I was able to remortgage, but at a time when interest rates were at their highest point for years, so our mortgage rate rose from 2.65 to 7.1 per cent, which has been a bitter pill to swallow. It wouldn’t have happened had I not been so unwell and unable to work. At this point, I’m just grateful I managed to stay close to my family – I still live next door to my brother Sam, and having them nearby has been integral to my recovery.

I know I have been lucky to grow up with privilege and to have had a well-paid job. But I also nearly lost it all – and it took me a pretty big phase of self-development to realise that it’s important to care about money. Or should I say, it’s important to understand money because if you do, it’s slightly less daunting.

I also understand the importance of hard work and saving; I now max out my pension contributions and ISA allowance. I’d never take wealth for granted. I have a renewed interest in what I do have and where I spend it. I take the time to make informed decisions and I’ve finally learnt that you have to speculate to accumulate so I invest in stocks and shares.

I never used to mention any figures to Ryan because I didn’t want him to judge me. I didn’t want to sound boastful or feel like I held more power. I’ve always wanted us to feel like equal partners, and we split everything fifty-fifty – although we have only just set up a joint bank account after eight years!

He’s just not much of a number cruncher, so I take that on to make sure he doesn’t live in a permanent state of panic. This is one of the good things to have come from the trauma of the past few years: I have created a monster spreadsheet. This covers every single asset that comes into our shared household; everything fixed that comes in and out (I spend £500 a month on my two dogs, when you add everything up, which is pretty alarming), and all predicted income streams, too. I update it weekly, which I find incredibly motivating. It feels like taking back control of my life after it veered so wildly off course.

I may be forensic about managing our money these days, but I also try to hold on to the sentiment of a tongue-in-cheek cushion my father has in his house. It says: ‘fly first class or your children will’. (I feel I can share this, given that none of us actually fly first class so it’s slightly less distasteful!) I used to think that slogan was a bit offensive, but now I get it. The message behind it is: live! Burn the scented candle, wear your nicest clothes, invest in that statement blazer so you can turn up to work looking like a rock star! You’ve earned it.

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