Unlearning Scarcity: The Quiet Beliefs That Keep Us Stuck (and How to Break Free)
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
The Roots of Scarcity
Some beliefs aren’t chosen. They’re absorbed — quietly, unconsciously, like background music we grow up hearing until we mistake it for silence.
Beliefs like:
“Money doesn’t grow on trees.”
“You have to work twice as hard to get half as much.”
“People like us don’t get to live like that.”
They don’t arrive with warning labels. They come as advice. As caution. Sometimes even as love. And yet, over time, they become invisible barriers — shaping how we dream, what we pursue, and what we believe we’re worthy of.
This is the essence of the scarcity mindset: a worldview built on lack, fear, and unworthiness. It doesn’t always scream; often, it whispers. Don’t ask for too much. Be realistic. That’s not for you.
Scarcity isn’t just about finances. It shows up in how we treat our time, our rest, our creativity — even our joy.
Many of us were raised to believe that survival was enough. That thriving was for other people, in other zip codes, with other stories. I know, because that was my story too. I grew up hearing those familiar refrains about what we could or couldn’t afford, what was possible, and what wasn’t. Eventually, those messages stopped sounding like outside voices and started feeling like truth.
But they weren’t truth — they were programming.
Photo by Marija Zaric on Unsplash
The Process of Rewriting
Unlearning scarcity isn’t a one-time event. It’s a process of returning — over and over — to yourself. Of catching those old thoughts mid-sentence and asking, “Do I actually believe this, or was I taught to believe it?”
That was the first thing I started doing: interrupting the thought.
If I had a thought like “I’ll never be able to live in a neighborhood like that,” or “That kind of job isn’t for someone like me,” I didn’t just let it sit there. I began challenging it in real time.
“Why not?”
Why not my name on that lease?
Why not me in that role?
Why not joy, beauty, rest — even luxury?
This wasn’t about pretending. It was about reframing. It was about realizing that most of my limits were inherited beliefs I never consented to. Once I recognized that, I started choosing different thoughts — ones that felt expansive, not restricting.
I stopped repeating “I can’t” and started experimenting with “What if I could?”
I let myself want more, even before I knew how it would happen.
I learned to sit with possibility — even when fear came to visit.
The work is uncomfortable. Sometimes even lonely. But it’s worth it.
Because expansion isn’t selfish — it’s sacred. Especially for those of us who were taught that playing small was safer.
If you’re questioning the beliefs you were raised with, you’re already in the process of breaking cycles. That’s not weakness — that’s liberation.
Scarcity is learned. So is abundance. And every thought, every choice, every brave, shaky yes to yourself is part of the reprogramming.
I speak more deeply about this journey — how I moved from internalized lack to self-trust and expansion — on my podcast Soul Drops, where I share honest conversations about healing, purpose, and reclaiming your life after hardship. If this resonated, I invite you to listen to Episode 4: How to Manifest the Life You Want by Unlearning Scarcity Beliefs.
Final Thoughts
I spent years thinking my dreams were too big for someone like me — someone who came from food stamps and single-parent struggle, from the kind of survival that teaches you not to ask for too much. But I’ve learned that the life I saw in my mind wasn’t delusion — it was memory. A remembering of what’s possible when you stop living by inherited fear and start listening to your own soul.
I’m not trying to sell anyone a perfect life. I’m saying it’s possible to shift. To soften. To wake up one day and realize you don’t have to keep performing for love, chasing validation, or waiting for permission to begin.
We don’t always need to burn everything down to start over — sometimes, we just need to stop repeating the same old story.
So here’s your reminder:
You’re not asking for too much.
You’re remembering who you are.