The Emotional Cost of Vancouver’s Housing Market

What happens when the cost of a city you love starts to shape the way you live, dream, and even think about space itself?

When I was growing up, my parents bought a five-bedroom house in their early thirties. By the time I was five, I had my own room, a backyard, and space to spread out. My siblings and I each had our own corners of the house, and there always seemed to be room for storage, hobbies, and the chaos of everyday life. That kind of space now feels like a fantasy.

At fifty, I finally have a second bedroom. For fifteen years, my husband, daughter and I lived in a one-bedroom apartment in Vancouver. I turned the living room into her bedroom with curtains and creativity. We made it work because that’s what you do when the housing market leaves you with little choice. When we finally moved into a two-bedroom condo, it felt like a milestone, almost a reward for endurance. But it also carried a strange sense of sadness: I had to wait until midlife to have what my parents had decades earlier.

The emotional toll of Vancouver’s housing market is something I don’t think people talk about enough. It’s not just financial strain, it’s the constant psychological weight of living small. Every possession demands justification. Every purchase raises a question: Where will it fit? I’m always decluttering, rearranging, shuffling items around like pieces on a board that’s too small for the game.

Even my dreams reflect it. I sometimes have what I call “space anxiety dreams”which are nightmares where I’m frantically trying to find more room, or suddenly discover a hidden door leading to an extra room I never knew existed. Dana K. White, the decluttering guru, once mentioned she had similar dreams when she lived in tight quarters and felt overwhelmed by stuff. It’s such a clear metaphor for scarcity, the mind’s way of coping with a life that feels compressed.

Minimalism gets marketed as a lifestyle choice, but for many of us, it’s just survival. When your closets are tiny, when you have no storage locker, when every square foot costs a small fortune, you have to live minimally. You become ruthless about what stays and what goes. It’s exhausting, even when you know you’re lucky to have a home at all.

And that’s the paradox: I know this frustration sits firmly within the realm of North American middle-class privilege. I have a roof over my head, heat in winter, and safety. But financial happiness is relative. I can acknowledge that privilege and still feel the quiet grief of knowing how much harder it’s become to achieve what used to be ordinary.

I look at my parents’ generation and think, They had more space for less money. I pay so much more, for so much less. I’m not house poor, but I’m always careful. There’s no room for spontaneous spending or big luxuries. Just steady caution.

But maybe part of growing older is realizing that the world has changed and that my expectations haven’t always caught up. It isn’t the 1950s anymore. I don’t have the life my grandmother had, so I don’t have her house. The math of modern life is different. The economy, the population, the very idea of what a home looks like, it’s all evolved. Maybe learning to live in contemporary times means accepting that “enough” looks different now. 

It kind of feels like giving up but I don't think I can because clearly my subconscious is not okay with how I'm living. I'm dreaming about closets! Closets shouldn't be a luxury item! I'm not alone. I know I'm not. I'm constantly in a spin realizing that my North American middle class bias to space is beyond what so many people around the world can't even contemplate but at the same time, since I'm here, these are my friends and neighbours, this is the water I swim in. Your surroundings determine your relative happiness. This is why the neighbours of lottery winners go bankrupt, they try to keep up with outrageous fortune of a windfall. This is why the saying "keeping up with the jones" is around. 

Maybe I need to move somewhere else so that I won't feel like this. So many people pick up and go to other countries where their earned income from a Western capitalist nation goes further but then that feels exploitative. I keep looking at houses in the suburbs, they are cheaper, bigger. It's like watching this TV show that shows British people buying chateaus in France for the same price as their London flat. But then you have to live out there... in the middle of nowhere. That feels like abandoning something too: community, roots, the life I have built. The trade-offs are real. Maybe I just need to declutter one more box and that will make all the difference (I lie to myself so I can get some sleep). 

And in the end, the closets and space I dream about aren’t just furniture and square footage, they’re proof that living in this city costs more than money.

How a Podcast Helped Me Get Out of Debt (and Save My First $100k)

When I think back to my long commute to work—hour after hour in the car, tired from teaching all day and stressed about money—I can still remember the feeling of desperation. I had racked up a huge amount of debt during an extended maternity leave, just trying to keep my family afloat. At one point, I was staring down $41,000 of debt, most of which I had carried for over eight years.

Like so many people in that situation, I was grasping for answers. And in those moments, podcasts became my lifeline. I searched for anything and everything on debt, budgeting, and personal finance. What I loved most were Canadian podcasts—they felt relevant, practical, and rooted in systems I actually had access to.

That’s when I stumbled upon Doug Hoyes and his podcast Debt Free in 30.

And I was hooked.

I binged everything: the newest episodes, the full back catalog, all of it. And in the process, I learned more about money, finance, and debt systems than I ever thought I would. Doug’s podcast is designed to help people learn about their options when they’re deep in debt—bankruptcy, consumer proposals, and everything in between. But what stood out most to me was the integrity.

There are so many predatory businesses out there that prey on people when they’re financially vulnerable. Doug and his partner, Ted Michalos, are the opposite. As Licensed Insolvency Trustees, they are regulated, professional, and bound by law to put people first. I learned that formal, legal debt procedures like bankruptcy or a consumer proposal (think of it as a “bankruptcy lite”) can only be done through a Licensed Insolvency Trustee. Anyone else advertising those services is just a middleman who eventually has to send you to a trustee anyway—often after charging unnecessary fees.

Even though I came very close to filing a consumer proposal myself, listening to Debt Free in 30 gave me the tools and encouragement I needed to keep going on my own. Doug’s step-by-step advice helped me chip away at my debt, dollar by dollar. Eventually, not only did I pay it all off—I actually saved my first $100,000.

One episode that still stands out to me is The Fable of the $20 Bill. Doug explained how even small differences and changes can have an exponential impact on your entire life and financial well-being. Other episodes explored the difference between income inequality and wealth inequality, the balance between cutting expenses versus earning more, and—most importantly—the importance of removing the shame and judgment that so often surround money. The combination of personal stories, practical examples, and clear, actionable steps made everything feel possible in a way nothing else ever had.

Even now, debt-free, I still listen. It feels like a financial tune-up—reassuring, motivating, and a reminder that the habits I’ve built are worth protecting.

I can honestly say that Doug Hoyes (without ever meeting him, being a client, or paying him anything) changed my financial life. I will be forever grateful for the work he and Ted put into the podcast. If Debt Free in 30 made that much of a difference for me, I can only imagine how many others they’ve helped.

If you’re in debt, or just want to learn more about money in a way that’s clear, compassionate, and actionable, give it a listen. Like me, it might just be the first step in your own debt-free story.

👉 You can find it here: https://www.hoyes.com/debt-free-30-podcast/

9 Years Later: Which Canadian Money Blogs Are Still Worth Your Time?

Nine years ago, CBC shared a list of personal finance blogs Canadians should read. I went back and clicked through… and here’s what’s still going strong:

• Canadian Couch Potato

• Money Genius

• Money.ca

• Jessica Moorhouse

• Million Dollar Journey – Financial Freedom 101

• Cash and Kerry

• Half Banked

My top picks? Canadian Couch Potato and Half Banked. Both have podcasts—perfect for listening on the go. I’ve been revisiting Canadian Couch Potato episodes, and even though new content stopped in 2019, the old episodes are still gold.

Now, Half Banked is officially on my must-listen list. If you’re into Canadian personal finance, these two are a no-brainer.

The original CBC article: 

https://www.cbc.ca/life/work-money/personal-finance-blogs-you-should-be-reading-now-1.3855822

Teachers, Millionaires, and a Lot of Avocados

I was talking to my mother about a workshop I want to put on soon to share everything I’ve learned about personal finances. I’ve been creating a quiz to kick things off, and I was testing some of the questions on her. One fact we got off on a tangent about was that there are a handful of professions that churn out the most millionaires—and teachers are one of them. She loved this, since she was a teacher, as was my father, and now I’m a teacher too. It felt like a little source of pride for all of us.

Apparently, one of the reasons teachers make the list—despite not having high salaries—is that they tend to have the organizational skills to manage their money well. And if you think it’s just the pension that puts many teachers there, it’s not—there are plenty of pensioned jobs that don’t make the top five. The other professions that tend to produce millionaires are accountants (not a surprise!), engineers, attorneys, and anyone in business management or executive roles.

The point of this story isn’t that one career is better than another for becoming a millionaire. What matters is how you manage your money. Headlines are full of lottery winners who go bankrupt or celebrities who lose everything. It’s not necessarily about making the money—it’s about keeping it.

This message is echoed in The Millionaire Next Door by Thomas J. Stanley and William D. Danko: wealth comes less from flashy, high-paying jobs and more from disciplined saving, frugal living, and smart investing, no matter your profession.

And no, that doesn’t mean you have to forgo lattes or avocado toast entirely. You can also make more money! But it helps to get your savings rate in line first. Little cuts won’t cut it.

I learned that firsthand. When I was commuting 45 minutes each way, I was spending about $50 a week on gas, plus $300–$500 every few months on oil changes, lube, and general wear and tear. Not to mention the time and energy it took. We were buried in debt at the time, and I couldn’t afford to take the risk of moving closer to work if it meant a pay cut.

When the opportunity finally came, though, I jumped. Now I’m walking distance to work, which gives me close to $300 more every month in discretionary spending or savings. That’s a lot of avocados!

The three biggest things most of us spend on each month are housing, transportation, and food. Making a significant cut in housing costs can go much further than skipping your coffee. If housing isn’t something you can change, look at transportation next, then food. Focus on frugal choices, buy value and quality over flash. Like diet and exercise, consistency is key. Keep at it, and you’ll see results.

Do that, and you’ll be well on your way to managing your money toward that million-dollar mark. As Rachel Rodgers declares: “We Should All Be Millionaires!”

https://www.ramseysolutions.com/retirement/the-national-study-of-millionaires-research

(Found this data through the Dave Ramsey money empire—back when I was debt-stressed and devouring every finance resource I could find. Don’t agree with all of it, but there are some solid gems in there.)

From “Money is Evil” to “Money is Power for Good”

When I was growing up, I used to think money was evil. Nearly every message I absorbed from television, movies, and even the culture around me reinforced that belief. Rich characters were portrayed as cruel, selfish, and out of touch. Think of Mr. Burns from The Simpsons—a greedy, cackling billionaire who literally wanted to block out the sun. Or Regina George and her “Plastics” crew in Mean Girls, using status and wealth as weapons to hurt others. Countless movies cast the rich businessman as the villain: the factory owner exploiting workers, the landlord squeezing tenants, the tycoon polluting rivers for profit. Add to that the popular saying, “money is the root of all evil,” and it’s no wonder I grew up telling myself a money script that equated wealth with corruption.

There were exceptions, though. For a brief time, I was completely enchanted by Michael J. Fox in The Secret of My Success. In that film, money wasn’t just about greed—it came with energy, excitement, and joy. The fast-paced lifestyle, the friends, the humour, the adventure—it all looked intoxicating. Yet looking back, what I really wanted wasn’t the money itself. It was the experiences: the sense of possibility, the freedom, and the thrill of doing something bold. That distinction—between wanting money and wanting what money makes possible—took me years to really understand.

Interestingly, my parents never instilled in me the belief that money was bad. Both were teachers, living solidly middle-class lives, and today they enjoy a very comfortable retirement. They modeled stability, responsibility, and comfort—not extravagance, but certainly not deprivation either. They wanted the same for me. But here’s the rub: for many in my generation and the ones after, achieving even “comfortable middle class” has become a stretch. Housing prices, wages that don’t keep up with inflation, and the decline of pensions mean that reaching our parents’ lifestyle is no small feat.

My grandparents’ story really drives this home. My grandfather was a longshoreman with a union job, and my grandmother didn’t work outside the home. Despite being a single-income household, they had enough to raise a family, pay the mortgage, and spend months every year vacationing in Hawaii. Imagine that now! Today, the idea of raising a family on one income—let alone funding annual tropical getaways—feels nearly impossible for most.

So when did my money mindset begin to shift? It happened when I stumbled across a book—unfortunately I can’t remember the title—that introduced me to the idea of “money scripts.” The author explained that we all carry stories about money, often inherited from our parents, shaped by the media, and reinforced by our own experiences. These scripts guide how we see money, how we use it, and even how much of it we allow ourselves to earn. The book invited readers to reflect on those stories and ask: Are they serving you? Or are they holding you back?

That concept was a revelation. I realized that my script—that money was inherently bad—wasn’t universal truth. It was a story I had absorbed. And worse, it was a story that kept me small. I began to see the difference between a scarcity mindset (believing there’s never enough, that the system is rigged, that wanting more is greedy) and an abundance mindset (believing that money can grow, opportunities can expand, and wealth can be used to create good in the world).

Now, I don’t deny that the system itself has serious flaws. The fact that billionaires hoard unimaginable sums while children starve in famines was at the heart of my original money script. It made me feel like turning away from money was a moral choice. But here’s what I’ve come to understand: me rejecting money doesn’t change that reality. My opting out of wealth doesn’t redistribute it to those in need. In fact, the opposite is true. By embracing money, by earning it, growing it, and using it responsibly, I actually gain the ability to create change.

Money in the hands of good people can fund charities, launch businesses that treat workers fairly, support art and culture, and amplify voices that need to be heard. Money allows people to leave toxic jobs, invest in their communities, and have the time and energy to give back. That’s the good side of money—and the side I’m choosing to lean into.

Today, I’m working on embracing abundance. Not only for myself, but for others too. I want to encourage people to rethink their own money scripts, to release the old stories of shame or scarcity, and to welcome wealth as a tool for independence, influence, and joy. Because if more of us stop believing that money is inherently bad—and instead see it as a force we can wield for good—we really can change the world. This is why I am embarking on a money education mission: to help others make the most of their money so they can reap the benefits. Through blogs, workshops, and conversations, I want to empower others, and that is where the real difference will be made.

If this resonates with you, I’d love for you to follow along with my work, join the conversation, and keep an eye out for my upcoming workshops. Together, we can rewrite our money scripts—and use money as a tool for freedom, joy, and change.

Why Rachel Rodgers’ We Should All Be Millionaires Changed Everything for Me

This book is not just a must read. It is a must re-read! Now that I’ve finished it, I can honestly say it left me buzzing with energy and possibility. The most inspiring section was Rachel’s challenge to make $10,000 in 10 days. At first, it sounds impossible—but the way she breaks it down and gives examples and case studies, suddenly it feels doable, even exciting. Rodgers has this way of igniting ambition, like liquid fire running through your veins. Listening to her talk makes me believe that anything is possible, and that’s a powerful shift in how I approach both money and opportunity.

What surprised me most was how much her stories of struggle hit me. One that stayed with me was her betrayal by a professional networking group. On the surface, they promised opportunity and collaboration, but the reality was a majority-white, male-dominated environment that excluded and harmed her. I’ve been there too. For years, I blamed myself when I hit those invisible barriers, thinking maybe I wasn’t good enough. But hearing her story, I realized something so important: it’s not personal. These are patterns of discrimination—painful, biased, and oppressive—but they are not a reflection of my worth. That truth was freeing.

Then came the story of her lawsuit with a former business partner. That one hit close to home as well. I’ve had professional partnerships sour, and it’s always left me doubting myself. Hearing how Rachel fought back, survived, and then thrived—it was deeply healing. Her resilience was a reminder that setbacks don’t define us. What defines us is how we rise afterward.

Another key takeaway is her reminder of the real financial inequities women face: earning less than men, paying more for debt, investing less often, and being at higher risk of poverty in retirement. These aren’t just numbers; they are systemic disadvantages that keep women from building wealth. Rachel’s mission—to help women claim their financial power—isn’t just inspiring, it’s urgent.

What I love most is how Rodgers pairs hard truths with bold optimism. She doesn’t just echo Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie that we should all be feminists, rather she takes it a step further: We Should All Be Millionaires. It’s not just about wealth for wealth’s sake, but about freedom, power, and breaking cycles of scarcity. I closed the last page feeling joy, fire, and determination. Her words are more than advice—they’re a call to action. It’s time to think big, dream bigger, and, as she says, “get that coin.”

We Need to Talk About Money

 

Recently, I’ve been having more conversations with friends and colleagues about money—and it’s made me realize how rarely we do this. For some reason, money is still considered taboo. We don’t talk about wages, savings, or struggles nearly as openly as we should. Yet when we break that silence, something powerful happens: we share, we learn, and we grow stronger together. The truth is, keeping quiet only benefits the systems that profit from our lack of knowledge.

When money is kept in the shadows, people are left in the dark about what’s common or fair. Employers often rely on this silence, using it to maintain the status quo. If workers don’t know what others are making, it becomes easier for organizations to pay people unevenly and to reap the benefits of secrecy. But when we speak up, we empower each other with knowledge that can lead to better opportunities, fair pay, and smarter financial decisions.

Think about it: in almost every other part of life, we freely exchange advice. If you’re into fitness, you swap workout tips. If you’re a cook, you share recipes. If you’re a teacher like me, you trade strategies about lesson planning, neurodiversity, and how to better support students. I’ve learned so much by talking with colleagues about teaching—but when it comes to money, we don’t treat it the same way. We miss out on the collective wisdom that could help all of us.

By opening up about money, we create a culture of transparency and support. Imagine the possibilities if we treated finances like any other skill or interest. We could compare notes on budgeting, share tricks for saving, or encourage each other toward bigger financial goals. These conversations don’t have to be intimidating or shame-filled. Instead, they can be empowering, practical, and even fun.

That’s why I want to stop following the old rule of silence. I want to start talking about money—honestly, openly, and without judgment. Whether it’s salary, saving strategies, or spending habits, the more we talk, the more we all benefit. Let’s treat money the same way we treat any other area of life where we want to grow: with curiosity, generosity, and a willingness to learn together. The conversation is long overdue, and it’s time we keep it going.