Transparency builds trust. This is me showing exactly how I used to handle money… poorly.
A couple of years ago, I hit a massive low point when my car was repossessed. I was actually doing the cash envelope system at the time, and it was technically going well—aside from the fact that I wasn’t prioritizing what actually mattered. In my mind, I thought that as long as I had physical cash in my hands, everything was fine. Of course, it wasn’t. I was without a car…
I actually had enough cash on hand in my envelopes to get the car back immediately, but it should have never happened in the first place. I realized I was chasing someone else’s dream and trying to fund someone else’s lifestyle instead of fitting the system into my own reality. I never thought repossession would be an experience I would have. I was budgeting. I was cash stuffing. I had spreadsheets. I was trying. And that is what made it sting more.
I was trying hard.
After that repossession, I had to scramble to find affordable insurance just so I could refinance the car and get away from the high-interest lenders I was stuck with. My initial monthly payment was a staggering $658, but I eventually got it refinanced to under $500. Even then, I was struggling to keep up with insurance and payments because I hadn’t mastered the execution of my budget. I’ve always been a “budgeter”—I’ve had spreadsheets and paper lists since college, and I even have a minor in entrepreneurship because I loved the logic of finance. But having a plan and executing it are two different things. I’d refinance and try to get it together, but then my bank account would still end up in overdraft because I was splurging on Uber Eats or Amazon. I was going crazy with spending because I didn’t have a system that accounted for my actual behavior.
Life didn’t slow down to let me catch up; instead, it hit harder. My mom suffered a stroke shortly after the repo, and my finances were spread incredibly thin. To make matters more complicated, my best friend and roommate got a great job that required travel and moved out. I went from splitting expenses to carrying the full weight of the bills overnight, just as my mom was moving in with me. It was a depressing time, especially looking at the “cash stuffing” world online. Everyone else looked so peaceful and organized while they grew their savings, and here I was, barely keeping my head above water. I stopped stuffing for a while, but I eventually realized I missed it. Despite the repo, that system had actually helped me save thousands of dollars I wouldn’t have had otherwise. I knew I needed to get back into it, but I had to do it differently this time to avoid the “back and forth” between the bank and my binders.
I made the choice to stop pulling money out of my bank accounts for bills that were on auto-draft. I used to love playing with the physical cash, but I learned the hard way that if you don’t get the money back into the bank in time for a bill to hit, you end up with late fees and overdrafts. I finally decided to separate my world: one bank account for bills, one for debt, and a separate one for spending. For a while, I let my subscriptions live in “La La Land” on my credit cards. I actually paid off five credit cards twice in one year, but because I didn’t have a financial shield, life would happen and I’d max them out for a third time. It was a cycle of “one step forward, two steps back” that I couldn’t seem to break until a friend’s bachelorette party in New Orleans gave me a wake-up call. I was determined to go, and I found a way to buy the ticket and the room, but the trip was overshadowed by how tight my money was. I realized I never wanted to feel that way again.
The last four years were a grind while my mom fought for her disability benefits. We were denied repeatedly and had to hire a lawyer, which meant living very lean in a tiny one-bedroom plus a den with two dogs. Today, I’m finally in a spacious home I can afford, and my system has matured. I no longer use my debit card for bills because I don’t want the “nudge” to spend that money. If my bill account shows $50 and I know that $50 is for a bill, in my mind, the balance is zero. This mindset shift—treating earmarked money as already gone—changed everything. I also realized that while I love cash stuffing for variables like fuel, groceries, and dog supplies, I needed a digital buffer to protect my primary accounts.
It took a relentless cycle of ‘money-grabbing’ hits to wake me up, but I’ve finally turned all that reflection into real-life execution.
I kept hearing people talk about “buffers,” but for the longest time, I just didn’t get it. How were they actually using them? I finally had to stop and say, “No, Krissie Jae, how do you need this to work?” Once I tailored the system to my own life, everything clicked. I’ve been running this way for a couple of months now, and it’s already allowed me to kill off a major debt in January.
Take my furniture store debt, for example. I bought a table—I think it was around $1,000—and instead of traditional financing, I used one of those “pay it off in six weeks” deals to avoid the interest. When I saw the fine print, I realized that if I didn’t clear it, I’d end up paying back nearly $5,000. I told myself, “No way are y’all getting that much interest out of me.” I funneled everything I could toward it and paid it off in January. That was a huge win because that bill alone was $450 a month. I refused to carry that weight into the new year.
Of course, life tried to knock me off course. Right before I cleared that debt, my car went through a “back-to-back-to-back” crisis. First, it was the tires right before Thanksgiving, then after I cleared the furniture store debt the windshield happened, then the battery during the freeze. It felt like every time I looked up, my car was asking for more money. I’ll be honest: there was a moment where I felt “broke” because I had prioritized paying off that debt instead of keeping a massive cash pile for repairs. But looking back, if I hadn’t killed that debt, I’d still be sitting here paying $450 every single month. By sacrificing the buffer temporarily to kill the debt, I bought myself long-term breathing room.
My next target is a $210 monthly payment. I’m hitting that one next—March 20th is the deadline. It’s frustrating because when I log in, I see the interest climbing every single day. In January, the payoff was $960; now it’s pushing $970. Even though the official due date isn’t until June, I’m not waiting. I’m watching that number grow and thinking, “I need you gone.” Once that’s paid, I’ve promised myself: no more payday loans, no more predatory financing. Just a clean slate.
Even though my ultimate goal is to travel and maybe live abroad for six months at a time, I want my debt gone for my own peace of mind. I want to leave a positive legacy behind, especially if I decide to have progeny one day. By April, my buffer will be balanced back out and growing in my high-yield savings account again. Looking at my spreadsheets, I can see the finish line—I should have all active debt reduced to zero by September or October at the latest.
Managing all of this on a teacher’s salary—getting paid only once a month—has actually become a source of pride. I used to think I was struggling because of the pay schedule, but I realize now it was a “user error.” I was living above my means and didn’t have a plan. Now, I execute my finances with a confidence I never had. I set my spreadsheet, I know exactly what’s left after bills, and I move my buffer to my high-yield account. I have my cash in my envelopes and my wallet, and I’m good until the next payday. I’m no longer scrambling or living paycheck to paycheck. I’ve fixed the error, and for the first time, I’m actually in control.
I had to fail to find my personalized method and my humbling new becoming.
What I call my “umbrella method” aka buffer is essentially the secret sauce to my peace of mind. I round up every expense and add an intentional extra amount to every account. In my bank account, if I have a $100 buffer, I tell myself that $100 equals zero. If I see $100, it means I am at my baseline and everything is paid. This buffer accumulates over time, and whatever is left over before my next paycheck gets moved into a high-interest account that stays accessible via a debit card for “unexpected-expected” expenses. This buffer is my personal overdraft protection. It ensures that when I finally pay off my credit cards again, I never have to touch them for an emergency. I’m done owing people and I’m done owing companies. I’ve organized everything into “umbrellas”—Bills, Debt, Subscriptions, and Variables—and I add a buffer to every single one.
This system was put to the ultimate test between 2025 and early 2026. Within a short period, a neighbor noticed a nail in my tire, which led to me finding out I needed all four tires replaced at once—a $300+ hit. A month later, something hit my back windshield and shattered it, requiring a $400+ replacement. Then, during the freeze of 2026, my battery died completely and had to be replaced on the spot for $500+ so I could get to work. As a teacher, I am only paid once a month. I don’t have the luxury of a bi-weekly paycheck to save me if I miscalculate. In the past, those three car emergencies would have ruined me. I used to live paycheck to paycheck, ignoring things like pet visits or fluctuating wireless bills, thinking cash envelopes were a magic wand. I was wrong; you have to give yourself a big enough margin to breathe.
Now, I execute my finances with a confidence I never had before. Because I round up my debt payments—-adding an extra $350 buffer every month—I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I am at peace because I no longer have to look at my spreadsheets every hour or make ten different copies of the same budget just to feel in control. I know the money is there. I’ve turned my variable expenses into fixed ones by budgeting for the “worst-case scenario” highest bill I’ve ever received. I am no longer scrambling when life happens. I can finally stop worrying about the past and start thinking about the future, like how to increase my income streams. I was using someone else’s blueprint in a life that required my own architecture.
The repossession was humiliating. Asking friends for money strained relationships. Watching my mom fight for stability tested my resilience. But those moments clarified something: I am not someone who quits when the math gets uncomfortable. I am someone who rebuilds the math.
#StillTryingStillHere
#DoneIsBetterThanPerfect
