"You are too broke to have pride."

That's the advice I got from a friend yesternight.

“Just start.”

“I will. But Twitter??”

“You are too broke to have pride, that's what I tell myself.”

The way my chest started paining me when I read that text, ehn. It humbled me faster than my account balance ever could. See, I have pride and let's be real, I'm too broke to afford it.

Because here’s the thing, sometimes pride feels like a luxury. The kind of thing you can only afford when your wallet isn’t gasping for air. When you’re not calculating whether to just buy pepper with the remaining 1k in your account. When the choice between data and dinner isn't a philosophical question, because I remember a time when a friend asked what I'd have for dinner and I laughed. Not that.

But pride still shows up. It shows up when you want to ask for help but don’t want to look needy. When you’re “fine” even though you’re not. When someone offers you transport money and you say, “No, don’t worry,” knowing full well you’ll worry all the way home.

And here’s the truth. Yes, you should have pride. But the kind of pride that keeps your back straight, not the kind that keeps your mouth shut when you need help.

There’s healthy pride, the one rooted in self-respect. It’s what makes you say, “I deserve better,” or “I won’t let anyone treat me like trash.” It’s what pushes you to show up with dignity, to set standards, to value your own effort even when no one’s clapping.

Then there’s ego pride, the one that masquerades as strength but is actually fear. It whispers, “Don’t let them see you struggle.” It convinces you that asking for help means you’ve failed. That kind of pride isolates you. It’s armor that eventually starts choking you.

So the trick isn’t to kill pride, it’s to discipline it. To know when it’s protecting you, and when it’s just getting in your way.

Being broke teaches you creativity, but it also exposes how much of your pride is just fear wearing a confident face. Fear of being seen as struggling. Fear of being pitied. Fear of losing control over your own narrative. You start curating your lack, softening it so people don't think you are begging, rehearsing sentences so they sound casual when you're really crying for help in uppercase.

And sometimes, there’s such a thin line between cowardice and self-preservation, between holding back because you’re scared, and holding back because you’re protecting what’s left of your dignity.

But my friend was right, sometimes you have to drop the act. She said, “rich people have audacity and that's why they are rich.” And honestly, maybe that's the secret. Audacity. Ask for help. Take the ride. Accept the offer. Because pride doesn’t pay bills, and you need to be able to afford who you really are.

Me, I want riches that make pride feel like something I can buy back and not something I keep losing change over.

Because one day, when someone says, “You’re too broke to have pride,” I want to smile and say,

“Luckily, I’m not broke anymore.”

(And maybe then, I’ll finally afford small pride. The deluxe version.)🌚

Random: Has anyone noticed that I use italics a lot? It's just so classy.🤭

Your anonymous bestie

Ree🤍