When she was eight years old, “Susan” lived in the backseat of a Chevy with her parents and two brothers. Today, she has more than $3 million invested for retirement. And yet, she still saves every twist-tie from the bread bag—just in case.
I’ve sat across the table from clients who once relied on food stamps to feed their kids. Farmers who spent decades working incredibly hard but barely scraping by until the land beneath their boots suddenly became worth millions. People who bet everything on starting a business after being laid off in midlife, praying it would work. Widows who inherited not just a sum of money, but the grief of losing someone they loved.
Every story is different.
But amongst Impact clients there’s always a common thread: you have money now, and you need a plan for it. Not just to manage the dollars and cents—but to make sure it enriches your life, helps you give back, and allows you to live in alignment with your values.
My Story
I didn’t grow up with money either. I was a pastor’s kid—and we were poor. Really, really poor.
By fourth grade, I was pedaling a paper route. By fifth grade, I had three. I’d get up at 5 a.m. to deliver papers before school. When I walked home in the afternoon, bundles of newspapers would be waiting in the yard. I’d count them, fold them, load them in my side bag, and head out for two more routes.
One year, just before Christmas, my dad sat me down to “teach me about investing.” He explained returns, interest, and how money can grow. Then he asked if I’d invest in him—$50, with a 100% return in one year. I went to my dresser and pulled out the money I’d earned from my paper routes and gave it to him.
Years later, I found out the truth: my dad had no money for Christmas presents that year. My “investment” was how I had gifts under the tree. True to his word, the next year he gave me $100 back. I never forgot that lesson—not just about returns, but about sacrifice, resourcefulness, and doing what you can with what you have.
Fast forward a few decades, and at 42 years old, my life changed in an instant. I had to start over from scratch. My sister and I built Impact Wealth Management brick by brick, fueled by the same grit and determination that had me running three paper routes at age ten.
The Quiet Weight of Wealth
We talk about taxes, markets, and legislation that might affect you. But there’s another conversation—less technical, more personal—that matters just as much: how to carry wealth without feeling like an imposter.
When you’ve spent years—sometimes decades—scraping by, money can feel… strange. Like it belongs to someone else. Like you don’t deserve it. And for some, there’s guilt—about the loved one who had to die for you to have what you have, or about the “old you” who couldn’t have imagined the life you now live.
I’ve seen people try to outrun that past, hiding it away like an embarrassing secret. Others live as if the hard years are still here, afraid to trust that the ground beneath them is solid.
You Are Not an Imposter
Your journey is not something to be erased—it’s the foundation of your wisdom. The years of doing without taught you to be resourceful, to think ahead, to see value in things others overlook. Those lessons don’t disqualify you from wealth; they prepare you to steward it well.
The truth is, wealth doesn’t change who you are—it just changes your capacity. The same grit, humility, and determination that got you here can guide you now.
Owning the Story
So here’s my encouragement:
Don’t hide your story. Tell it. Share it with your kids and grandkids. Let it remind you how far you’ve come. Let it shape the way you use your resources—whether that’s investing in your future, helping family, giving to causes you care about, or simply enjoying the life you’ve built.
Because your journey matters. Every chapter—yes, even the ones that were hard to live through—has made you who you are today. And that’s nothing to feel ashamed of.
Final thought: You didn’t just “end up” here. You traveled here. And you’ve earned the right to live this chapter with joy, confidence, and purpose.