Lynda Moore says the more we deny ourselves something, the more we crave it. The stricter the prohibition, the more spectacular the failure

I love a girl’s weekend away.  It’s amazing what a change of scenery can do for our health and wellbeing. Something magical happens when a group of girlfriends get together.  Maybe it’s because we have more time, and not so much on the to do list, but a conversation that starts somewhere ordinary can somehow end up somewhere else entirely. I’m intrigued to know does the same happen when they guys go on a road trip?

This happened on my weekend away; we started out talking about food. Not recipes, diets, or the latest health trend, but the funny relationship we all seem to have with what we eat. Somewhere along the way, we realised we weren't really talking about food at all. We were talking about behaviour, emotions, habits, and the stories we carry with us.

And it struck me how similar our relationship with food can be to our relationship with money. When I shared this observation, heads started nodding.

Food is something we all need, but it is rarely just about nutrition. We celebrate with food, connect with others over food, comfort ourselves with food, and sometimes even use it as a reward after a long week.

Money is much the same.

Money is a practical tool, but it is rarely just about numbers. We use it to create security, experiences, opportunities, and sometimes to make ourselves feel better after a difficult day.

The interesting thing is that two people can have the exact same amount of money, or the exact same meal sitting in front of them and have a completely different reaction. That difference often comes down to the experiences, beliefs, and emotions they have built up over time.

We pick up feelings about both long before we're old enough to know we're doing it, just from watching the adults around us. Was food a treat in your house, or a battleground? Was money spoken about openly, or only in whispers after the kids were meant to be asleep? Chances are money got roughly the same treatment as food did, right down to the tone of voice.

Once you start looking, the parallels are everywhere, and honestly, a bit funny. There's the person who won't spend a cent on themselves without a guilt hangover, the financial equivalent of feeling bad about a second helping.

There's the "stress buy" that turns up on the doorstep after a rough week, cousin to the stress trip to the biscuit tin, or the bar of chocolate in the fridge.

There are the shopping bags stashed at the back of the wardrobe, and the credit card statement nobody else is allowed to see. There's the friend who orders "just a salad" in front of you and then tells you later about the drive-thru on the way home.

And there's the classic spiral logic: "I've already blown the budget, so I may as well keep going" is just "I've already had one Tim Tam, may as well finish the packet" wearing a different outfit.

Here's the thing though, none of this is really a willpower problem, for food or for money. The stricter and more punishing the rules we set for ourselves, the more spectacularly we tend to break them, usually at 11pm, usually followed by a solid dose of self-flagellation that just sets the whole thing up to happen again next week.

Diets don't fail because people lack discipline. They fail because extreme restriction eventually demands its own reward, and the reward always seems to arrive with a side of shame. Budgets built the same way, all stick, no carrot tend to collapse in the same fashion, usually right around payday.  The more we say we aren’t allowed something, the more we crave it.

What seems to help, in both cases, isn't more control it's a bit more curiosity. With food, that's pausing to ask, "am I actually hungry, or am I just tired, bored, or avoiding something?" before opening the pantry. With money, it's the same pause before opening the banking app: is this something I genuinely want, or am I hoping a purchase will fix a feeling it was never going to touch? Boredom, loneliness, a bad day at work, the itch to feel like something in life is under control.  All of it can show up disguised as a craving for chocolate one day and a craving for a new pair of shoes the next.

And it cuts both ways. Just as strict dieting can tip into something joyless and depleting, so can a strict budget. I've met plenty of people who can recite their savings rate down to the dollar but haven't bought themselves so much as a coffee they didn't feel guilty about in a year. That's not exactly thriving that's just restriction wearing a spreadsheet instead of a meal plan. And it tends to catch up with you the same way: quietly, and then all at once, usually in the form of a spending blowout that feels completely out of character right up until you look at the pattern underneath it.

There's a reason "everything in moderation" gets rolled out so often at dinner parties, it's a cliché because it's annoyingly true, for dessert and for discretionary spending alike. The goal was never to white-knuckle your way through either one. It's to build a relationship with both that can survive contact with real life the bad weeks, the good weeks, the birthday cake, the impulse buy that turns out to be totally fine.

So, if any of this sounds familiar, I won't tell you to overhaul your life by Monday, with food or with money, the grand overhaul rarely survives past Wednesday. Just try getting a little curious next time. Notice the guilt, notice the urge, and ask what you're really hungry for. You might learn more about your money habits than any budget spreadsheet has managed to teach you.

*Lynda Moore is a Money Mentalist coach and New Zealand’s only certified New Money Story® mentor. Lynda helps you understand why you do the things you do with your money, when we all know we should spend less than we earn. You can contact her here.