Notice This... With QueenB.Divine | Don't Crypto on My Mental Health | Part Two: Grade Two
Notice this. Money is a seed. Actually, when you think about it, just about everything in life starts as a seed. An idea, a relationship, a business, a dream, even the way we think about ourselves. But here's what I've been realizing about money. If you plant it in the wrong soil, feed it nothing but fear, stress, and desperation, and spend your entire life worrying about whether it'll grow, that little seed can become one hell of a burden instead of a tool to help you enjoy your life.
But before we get into that, how are you doing? Seriously, have you asked yourself that question today? Not the automatic "I'm fine" you give somebody at the grocery store while your brain is juggling seventeen problems. I mean, how are YOU? Here's something I've been practicing. Before jumping out of bed like somebody rang the fire alarm, sit on the edge for a moment. Check in with your body from your head to your toes. Notice how you're feeling. Give yourself a chance to wake up. And when you're ready, get up and say, "Hooray, another day!" Good grief, we spend so much time checking our phones, bank accounts, and notifications that sometimes we forget to check the human being operating the whole damn system.
Speaking of bank accounts, I've started celebrating every nickel I make. Yes, every nickel. Maybe today I've earned enough for a coffee. Maybe tomorrow it'll be enough for a beautiful T-bone steak. And let me tell you, I do love a good steak! But this little adventure into understanding money hasn't always been about building wealth. It's been about discovering what money actually meant to me growing up, and why I spent so many years believing that if I wanted anything in life, I had to chase it.
If you've been following my story, you know my childhood wasn't exactly a picture-perfect family sitcom. By the time I reached grade two, I'd already experienced being left alone, moving between Canada and Jamaica, living in rooming houses, and witnessing situations that no little child should have to understand. I'd seen my mother struggle, fight, and experience violence. I'd met some rather interesting characters along the way, including people who helped keep me safe. And I'd finally met a sister, although she was dealing with sickle cell anemia and wasn't always able to be the companion I desperately wanted.
By grade two, I was already well-seasoned in life's crap. And wouldn't you know it? Life wasn't finished adding ingredients.
One day, my mother picked me up from the babysitter and took me to an apartment building in Scarborough, Ontario. Now, my mother had this fascinating habit of moving me around without much explanation. One minute we're somewhere, the next minute we're somewhere else. No family meeting, no PowerPoint presentation, no "Honey, we've got some exciting news." Just grab your things and let's go.
We went up ten floors in an elevator. I remember walking down the hallway while my mother followed nervously behind me. She handed me the keys and told me to open the apartment door. And when I did, there they were. Four brothers and sisters I hadn't known were coming, along with the sister I'd already met, sitting on this glorious 1970s orange pleather-looking couch. You remember those couches? The kind that could probably survive a nuclear explosion and still leave an imprint on the back of your legs?
Well, that couch was also a pullout bed where two of my brothers would sleep. My sisters would share a bedroom, and my mother would have another. We were living in Ontario Housing, what I now understand was subsidized housing intended to help families with limited incomes.
But as a child, I didn't know anything about income brackets, housing assistance, or the economics of raising a family. I knew something much more important to me at the time. I had a roof over my head, and suddenly I wasn't alone anymore.
Isn't that interesting? Adults can look at a home and see its financial value, its square footage, or the neighborhood it's in. But a child might see safety, companionship, and the possibility of finally belonging somewhere. That apartment might not have represented wealth on paper, but to me, having brothers and sisters around was something money couldn't easily measure.
And that brings me to a question I think more of us should be asking: Does growing up poor affect how you think about money as an adult? I believe it can, and research into financial behavior suggests that childhood experiences can influence our attitudes toward saving, spending, risk, and security. Some people grow up determined never to be poor again. Others become afraid to spend a dollar. And some of us develop the belief that money is something we must constantly chase, because if we stop running, everything might fall apart.
My brother helped introduce me to that last one.
He was just a little older than me, and let me tell you, that boy had a hustling spirit. He was always thinking about how to make a little money. Not millions. Not some fancy investment portfolio. We're talking about enough money to buy a Popsicle, break it in half, and maybe share it with his little sister. I say maybe because, well, brothers are brothers.
Our first little business venture was collecting pop bottles. Remember those old glass Coke bottles? People would leave them around, or we'd knock on doors asking whether anybody had bottles they wanted to give us. We'd collect them and return them for the deposit money. And let me tell you, when you're a kid, a pocketful of change can make you feel like you've just closed a deal on Wall Street.
We could buy Popsicles, gum, and whatever little treasures our young minds considered essential to happiness. And here's the funny thing. We weren't sitting around studying business plans or watching financial influencers. We were learning about earning money, recognizing opportunities, and working together without even knowing there were fancy names for those things.
Then came Christmas caroling. Oh, this one I loved! My brother would knock on doors, create a beat by tapping on a wall or using his mouth, and I'd sing. He was the beatbox, and I was the entertainment. Imagine two little kids standing at somebody's door performing a Christmas concert and hoping a few coins might come our way.
We weren't exactly a Grammy-winning duo, but we had enthusiasm. And I genuinely loved singing. My brother helped me discover that something I enjoyed could also create an opportunity to earn money.
Looking back, those childhood side hustles taught me something valuable. Money didn't have to be mysterious. We could do something, provide something, collect something, create something, and receive something in return. That's a pretty powerful lesson for a child.
But there was another lesson hiding underneath it, and this is the one I've been questioning lately. Did I learn that making money required effort, or did I learn that I had to be chasing money every waking moment?
Because there's a difference.
And isn't that one of the biggest conversations we're having today? Why do we feel guilty when we're not being productive? Why does everybody seem to need a side hustle? Why are people working full-time jobs, creating content at night, selling products on weekends, and still worrying about whether they'll have enough money to get ahead?
Today, the pop bottles might be a paycheck, an online business, a YouTube channel, a delivery gig, or a digital investment. The Popsicle has become rent, groceries, insurance, and a vehicle that seems to need repairs every time you finally save a few dollars.
And the chase continues.
Now, I'm not against working hard. Good grief, I'm learning about investing, creating content, and building things myself. I love the idea of turning something small into something meaningful. But I'm beginning to wonder whether we've confused constantly making money with actually building a good life.
Is hustle culture affecting our mental health? That's a question worth exploring, especially as conversations about burnout, financial stress, work-life balance, and the cost of living continue. Constant pressure to earn can leave people exhausted, and financial insecurity can make it difficult to switch off even when the workday is over.
But here's where I want to challenge the conversation a little. Not everybody is hustling because they want a luxury lifestyle. Some people are hustling because they need groceries. Some are trying to support family members. Some are rebuilding after a difficult childhood. And others are simply trying to reach a point where they can finally relax without worrying about the next bill.
So telling somebody to "just slow down" isn't always realistic. Sometimes slowing down is a privilege people are still trying to afford.
And that brings me back to my little money seed.
What kind of soil are we planting our financial future in? Are we feeding it knowledge, patience, realistic goals, and a little self-respect? Or are we feeding it fear, comparison, exhaustion, and the belief that we'll never have enough?
Because I don't want to spend the rest of my life chasing money only to discover that I sacrificed the very things I wanted money to help me enjoy.
My health. My peace. My relationships. My ability to wake up in the morning and actually feel grateful for another day.
That's why I keep coming back to my QueenB.Divine message: Self-love and self-care will get you there. Not because loving yourself automatically makes you wealthy. Wouldn't that be nice? I'd be growing hundred-dollar bills beside my tomatoes! But because recognizing your own worth can help you make more thoughtful decisions about how you spend your time, energy, and money.
And this is where my other saying comes in: Don't Crypto on My Mental Health. Whether you're investing in Bitcoin, building a business, working two jobs, or just trying to stretch your paycheck until Friday, please don't forget the person doing all that work. Your mental health isn't something you should have to sacrifice just to prove you're ambitious.
I'm still learning what wealth means to me. I'm still figuring out how to grow that little financial seed without allowing the pursuit of money to take over my life. And I'm beginning to appreciate something my younger self probably wouldn't have understood: sometimes having enough to enjoy the day is its own kind of wealth.
By grade two, I'd learned how to collect bottles, sing for change, and turn a little effort into a Popsicle. I'd also learned that family, shelter, and companionship mattered far more to me than the price of anything sitting in that apartment.
But my story doesn't end there. Grade three and beyond would turn my understanding of money, family, and the world upside down again. Some of those experiences would take me into darker places, and others would teach me lessons I'm only beginning to understand today.
So if you've been following along, thank you. I genuinely appreciate you being here.
And before you go, I want to leave you with a question. When you were growing up, did money represent freedom, fear, survival, or happiness? And do you still carry that belief today?
Share your thoughts in the comments. I'd love to hear what your first childhood hustle was, too. Were you collecting bottles, delivering newspapers, babysitting, or coming up with some creative little business of your own?
Follow my QueenB.Divine YouTube channel for more Notice This... conversations about , mental wellness, self-love, and the beautifully messy experience of being human. We're learning together, and I'm certainly not pretending to have it all figured out.
Until next time, take care of you. Celebrate your little wins, even if today's profit only buys a coffee. And remember, the purpose of growing wealth isn't to forget how to live.
Money is a seed. Make sure you're growing yourself along with it.
Don't Crypto on My Mental Health.
Self-love and self-care will get you there.
QueenB.Divine | Notice This... The Cure Is Conversation.
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