When I decided to get serious about paying off my debt, I didn’t fully anticipate how much it would change my social life. In my head, it was just about budgeting, making extra payments, and saying no to impulse shopping. What I didn’t realize was that saying “no” would eventually mean turning down birthday dinners, girls’ trips, and spontaneous nights out—and that saying “no” repeatedly could start to feel really lonely.
Before I started budgeting, I was the type of friend who never wanted to miss anything. A new rooftop lounge? I was there. Bottomless brunch with the girls? Count me in. Weekend getaway for someone’s milestone birthday? Let me just put it on my credit card and deal with it later. I said yes to everything because I didn’t want to be left out, and honestly, spending money made me feel like I was still thriving—even when my finances were a mess behind the scenes.
Once I started tracking my spending and building a repayment plan, I realized just how much of my debt had been racked up trying to keep up with other people’s lives. The drinks, the Ubers, the outfits—it all added up. I knew something had to change. So I started setting limits. And with those limits came guilt.
One of the hardest things I had to learn was how to set financial boundaries with friends without making it awkward. I remember the first time I turned down a dinner invite. It was for a trendy new spot in the city, and I knew the bill would easily cross $80 before tip. I texted back: “I’m gonna sit this one out, trying to stay within budget this month.” I stared at my phone afterward, worried I’d come off as cheap or flaky.
To my surprise, the response was supportive: “Totally get it! Let’s plan something lowkey soon.” That moment was eye-opening. People who care about you will understand. The ones who don’t? Well, maybe that tells you something too.
Over time, I started being more open with friends about my financial goals. Not everyone needed to know the details, but I stopped pretending I could afford things I couldn’t. I’d say things like, “I’m on a budget this year, so I’m skipping trips” or “I’m trying to knock out some debt, so I’m doing coffee instead of dinner.” Was it a little uncomfortable at first? Absolutely. But it also brought a weird kind of relief. I didn’t have to keep up appearances anymore.
I also got creative. Just because I was on a budget didn’t mean I wanted to become a hermit. I started hosting game nights instead of going out. I’d meet a friend for a walk in the park with iced coffees instead of brunch. I suggested potlucks instead of pricey dinners. And you know what? Most of the time, those hangouts felt more meaningful than the expensive nights I used to say yes to out of habit.
But there were moments when it still stung. When the group chat blew up with photos from a night I didn’t attend. When I had to pass on a friend’s destination birthday. When I felt like I was always the one declining plans. Those moments made me feel left behind. Like adulthood had splintered into two lanes—the ones still living it up, and me, just trying to stay afloat.
I had to remind myself why I started. Every time I made a tough choice, every time I said “not this time,” I was putting future me first. I was building a life where I wouldn’t have to panic every time rent hit, or swipe a card with my eyes closed. I was trading temporary FOMO for long-term peace.
And let me say this clearly: being broke doesn’t mean being broken. There’s no shame in saying “I can’t afford it.” There’s strength in knowing your limits and protecting your goals. That kind of honesty takes courage—especially in a culture that pressures us to show up, show off, and spend like we’ve got it all together.
Now, when friends ask how I’m doing, I don’t sugarcoat it. I say, “Still working on the debt. Getting closer.” And more often than not, someone replies, “Girl, same.” Turns out, a lot of us are silently struggling. And by being honest, I’ve opened the door to deeper, more real conversations.
Paying off debt isn’t just about numbers. It’s about shifting how you move through the world. It’s learning how to stay connected while still honoring your budget. It’s learning that true friends won’t just meet you where you are—they’ll walk with you through it.