Financial Anxiety in 2026: When Money Worries Became a Mental Health Crisis

By David Morales
Published: December 10, 2025 • 10 min read

I used to wake up at 4 AM and immediately check my bank account.

Not because I was waiting for a deposit. Because the anxiety wouldn’t let me sleep, and somehow seeing the number—even if it hadn’t changed from the night before—felt like the only way to quiet my brain.

Then I’d check it again at 6 AM. And at lunch. And before bed. And sometimes in between, just because I’d seen a news headline about inflation or layoffs or another economic indicator I didn’t fully understand but knew was supposed to scare me.

I wasn’t just worried about money. I was consumed by it.

The Perfect Storm

My financial anxiety didn’t appear out of nowhere. It was a product of its time.

In five years, I’d lived through a pandemic that decimated my industry, inflation that made my salary worth less every month, a housing market that seemed designed to exclude anyone under 50, and a steady drumbeat of news about economic instability, layoffs, and AI replacing jobs.

On top of that, personal hits: an unexpected medical bill that wiped out my savings, a car repair that went on a credit card I couldn’t immediately pay off, and the creeping realization that my “emergency fund” was never going to be enough for the emergencies that kept coming.

By 2025, checking my bank account had become a compulsion. Scrolling financial news felt like a form of self-harm I couldn’t stop. Every purchase, no matter how small, triggered a spiral of guilt and fear.

Financial Anxiety: More Than Just Worrying About Money

What I learned, eventually, is that financial anxiety is its own beast—related to but distinct from just “being worried about bills.”

Financial anxiety includes:

• Obsessive checking of bank accounts, investments, or bills
• Catastrophic thinking about money (assuming the worst will happen)
• Avoiding financial tasks because they’re too overwhelming
• Physical symptoms (insomnia, stomachaches, headaches) triggered by money thoughts
• Relationship conflict over spending and saving
• Difficulty enjoying anything that costs money, even if you can afford it
• Feeling like no amount of money would ever be “enough”

I had all of these. The rational part of my brain knew I wasn’t about to be homeless. The anxiety didn’t care about rational.

The Breaking Point (And the Turning Point)

My breaking point came when my partner sat me down and said, “I’m worried about you.”

Not about our finances—about me. She’d watched me become a shell of myself, consumed by worry, unable to enjoy anything, constantly researching worst-case scenarios like I was preparing for an apocalypse that might never come.

“When’s the last time you did something just for fun?” she asked.

I couldn’t remember.

“When’s the last time you slept through the night?”

Months.

“When’s the last time you went a whole day without checking our accounts?”

Never, since the anxiety started.

She handed me a business card for a therapist who specialized in financial anxiety. I didn’t even know that was a specialty.

What Actually Helped

Recovery from financial anxiety wasn’t about fixing my finances (though that helped too). It was about changing my relationship with uncertainty. Here’s what worked:

1. Scheduled “Money Time”

My therapist suggested containing my financial obsession. Instead of checking accounts 20 times a day, I designated one time per week—Sunday evenings—for financial review.

Outside of that window, checking was off-limits. When the urge arose, I’d remind myself: “Sunday. I’ll handle it Sunday.”

At first, this felt impossible. The anxiety screamed that something terrible would happen if I didn’t check. But nothing did. And slowly, the compulsion loosened its grip.

2. News Fasting

I went on a financial news diet. No more doomscrolling economic headlines. No more reading opinion pieces about what the Fed might do. No more Reddit threads about the coming collapse.

I set up one trusted newsletter to give me a weekly summary. That’s it. If something truly catastrophic was happening, I’d hear about it. But the daily drumbeat of anxiety-inducing content wasn’t informing me—it was harming me.

3. Accepting Uncertainty

This was the hardest part.

My therapist helped me understand that financial anxiety is often about intolerance of uncertainty. I wanted to know I’d be okay. I wanted guarantees. And when I couldn’t get them, I tried to manufacture certainty through obsessive planning and worrying.

But certainty doesn’t exist. Not for anyone. The economy could crash. I could lose my job. Bad things could happen. And no amount of worrying would prevent them.

What I could control: my actions today. Building skills. Saving what I could. Making reasonable plans. And then letting go of outcomes I couldn’t influence.

4. Values-Based Spending

My therapist introduced me to the concept of values-based spending: using money in alignment with what I actually care about, not just what feels “safe.”

I was so focused on saving for hypothetical future disasters that I’d stopped living in the present. I wouldn’t buy concert tickets because “what if I need that money later?” I wouldn’t take a vacation because “what if the economy crashes?”

Learning to spend on things I valued—experiences, relationships, personal growth—wasn’t irresponsible. It was part of a balanced life.

5. Building Actual Security (Not Just Perceived Security)

Some of my anxiety was irrational. Some of it wasn’t.

I genuinely didn’t have an adequate emergency fund. I genuinely was underpaid for my skills. I genuinely had gaps in my financial literacy.

Part of my recovery involved addressing the real issues—not obsessively, but systematically. I:

• Met with a financial advisor (one session to create a realistic plan)
• Automated my savings so I didn’t have to think about it
• Negotiated a raise (the anxiety had convinced me I didn’t deserve to ask)
• Learned basic investing concepts so the financial world felt less mysterious

The goal wasn’t to achieve perfect security (impossible) but to take reasonable actions and then let go.

Where I Am Now

My financial anxiety isn’t gone. It probably never will be completely—not in this economy, not with my brain. But it’s manageable.

I still have flare-ups. Big economic news can trigger old patterns. But I have tools now:

• Grounding exercises when the panic rises
• A weekly money date instead of constant checking
• A therapist I can call when things get bad
• Self-compassion for the parts of me that are scared

I’ve also gained perspective. Financial anxiety isn’t a personal failing. It’s a rational response to an irrational system—a world that offers decreasing security while demanding increasing productivity. My anxiety made sense. It just wasn’t serving me.

Practical First Steps

If you recognize yourself in this story, here are some starting points:

1. Limit checking behaviors. Choose one time per day (or week) for financial review. Set boundaries around compulsive checking.

2. Curate your information diet. Unfollow doomsday accounts. Limit financial news to trusted, infrequent sources.

3. Talk to someone. A therapist, a financial counselor, or even a trusted friend. Shame thrives in silence.

4. Separate facts from stories. “My account balance is X” is a fact. “I’m going to end up homeless” is a story. Learn to notice the difference.

5. Take one constructive action. Not 50 actions. One. Automate a savings transfer. Update your resume. Make one call. Then let yourself rest.

The goal isn’t to stop caring about money. It’s to stop letting money fear run your life.

You deserve more than survival mode. We all do.

David Morales is a marketing professional and writer living in Phoenix, Arizona. He writes about the intersection of economic pressures and mental health.