Seven Questions to Write Down When You Dread Opening Your Bank App at the End of the Month

End of the month.

Any day will do, as long as it is the evening when the phone lies face down on the dining table and the bank icon sits quietly in the corner of the screen. Ten at night. My daughter is asleep, the ceiling fan clicks along steadily, and a cup of ginger tea has gone cold in front of me. I pick the phone up, then put it down. Up, then down. My thumb goes to the Zalo group of customers first, answers two messages, rearranges some product photos. I do everything except the one thing.

I sell children's clothes online, bought in batches. That means money does not come in and go out as evenly as a salary: a few big orders one week, a trickle the next, while the rent, the school fees and the supplier invoices arrive on exactly the right day. It is not that I cannot read the number.

This piece is seven questions to write on paper while you have not yet opened the app. It does not teach money management, and there are no figures or financial tips in it. It is only a place to look at the feeling standing behind a hesitating finger.

Not daring to open the app is not weakness, and it is not a sign that you are bad with money. Plenty of people with steady jobs and tidy habits still find their finger heavy at the end of the month. And opening it straight away is not braver either: some nights people tap in quickly because they are so afraid, then spend the whole evening chasing a number nobody looked at closely.

This piece also does not promise the number will get easier to look at. It only promises a sheet of paper and ten minutes.

Why does the finger know before I let myself think it?

"Did you check the balance yet?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is the first."

Long said it gently, with no blame in it, and still it made me want to get up and wash a cup. That was the night I sat until eleven in front of the tear-off calendar, the phone in my hand, unopened.

The easiest explanation is that I am afraid the number is low. Maybe. But if that were all, I would open it, see the number, and be done. What I fear lasts longer than a number: the feeling that will rush in after I look. The feeling of telling myself I am someone who never quite gets things in order, or that I am thirty-nine and still not settled. The hesitating finger is postponing that feeling, not the number. And because that feeling has never been named on paper, it sits in my body like something heavy, and even the bank app takes on its weight.

So the first job is not to open the app. The first job is to give that feeling somewhere to speak, before opening.

The first time, many people sit looking at a blank page for five or six minutes, or write one sentence and feel embarrassed. That is normal too. Some find that after a week their finger feels lighter when it touches the icon. Some notice no difference, and still find that writing helps them see what they are thinking. On a day that is too busy, write only question one and question seven, two minutes.

The easiest place to slip is turning those ten minutes into a session of calculation: ruling a column for income, a column for spending, adding and subtracting right on the paper to "get it done". It sounds useful, and it is tempting because it looks like solving something. But calculating while your hand is still shaking usually produces a page full of red numbers that gets thrown away. Leave the sums for another hour, when you are sitting more calmly. These ten minutes are only for writing what you feel.

Seven questions, from light to deep

One question a night is plenty. Some nights you should stop after one, because that one was already heavy enough.

Before I open the app, what do I feel in my body?

Hint: write only the place and the sensation, like "stomach tight" or "shoulders stiff". No reasons yet.

The first night I managed exactly two words: "stomach tight". Nothing more. It looks a little funny now, but those two words were the first time I let the feeling onto paper instead of letting it run around in my stomach.

What number do I guess in my head, and the last time I opened the app, how far was the real number from my guess?

Hint: it does not need to be exact, just recall whether it was far off or close.

This question often surprises the person writing. I tend to guess lower than reality, and some months the real number was a good deal better than I feared. Some months it was not. What matters is knowing I am guessing, because a guessed number is easier to inflate than a real one.

Among the things I worry about with money, which ones have a specific date, and which are only "what if"?

Hint: split the page into two columns, and it is fine if the "what if" column runs longer.

Rent on the fifth has a date. What if the next batch of stock does not sell is a "what if". Sitting down to split them, I saw that the column with dates was shorter than I thought, while the "what if" column stretched into a blurry patch. This is not to say the second column is not worth worrying about, only to see that they are different kinds of thing.

How long have I been avoiding this number, and what feeling am I avoiding by doing so?

Hint: write the date if you remember, then name the feeling in one or two words.

Some people find this the hardest, because it touches the sore spot. If it feels too heavy, stop here and leave it for tomorrow. I managed it on a Wednesday: "avoiding since the start of the month, so I don't have to feel like a failure". After writing it I sat still for a while and thought nothing more.

Does anyone know all of this yet? If I told one person, who would I choose, and what would the first sentence be?

Hint: write out the first sentence in full, as if you would say it out loud.

I wrote: "Long, I'm afraid to look at the balance." Just that. I did not send it. But writing it was enough that the next time I could say it out loud, and it turned out he only nodded, then asked whether I wanted him to sit beside me.

What am I telling myself about a person who is "not good with money"?

Hint: copy the sentence exactly as you hear it in your head, then underline it and ask whose voice it sounds like.

This is the question I found deepest. The voice in my head sounded like an old teacher who used to comment on people in front of the class, not like my own. Knowing that did not make the voice go quiet, but I took it a little less seriously. If the voice is too heavy, try swapping to learning to talk to yourself like a best friend.

Is there one small thing, with a date, that I could do this week, not to fix everything but only to lift the lid on the box?

Hint: so small it looks silly is fine, like "open the app at ten on Saturday morning and look for one minute".

The one I chose: Saturday morning, after dropping my daughter at her extra class, sit in the usual cafe with an iced milk coffee, open the app and only look at the balance, not tapping anywhere else. One minute. That day I actually looked a little longer, but nothing came crashing down.

The easiest place to slip with these seven is writing a verdict: "I'm irresponsible", "I'm falling behind". They are tempting because they sound honest, as if owning up gets it over with. But owning up in adjectives does not move anything forward. Instead, write only the fact and the feeling: "haven't opened the app since the third, stomach tight". There is a fact, there is a feeling, there is no judgement.

If you tried and the page stays blank

Two reasons come up most.

First, writing late at night is tiring, and the hand does not want to touch words. Try changing the format: say the question out loud in a low voice and record it, or write exactly one sentence, even if it is only "didn't manage to write today". That counts too. Or move the time to the morning, before opening the customers' Zalo, the way writing down three worries and scheduling time for them later also puts writing at a fixed hour.

Second, the real number is bigger than your strength. Debts, a payment you cannot cover, something that is no longer only a feeling. At that point this page cannot solve the sum, and forcing it to will only add disappointment. You need someone who understands money to sit and look with you, and talking to that person does not make you less. What the paper can still do is tell that person how you are doing as you begin.

And if these seven questions do not suit you, there are seven questions to write for a pain with no name, which open from a different corner of the same worry.

Saturday morning, the iced milk coffee going cold in my hand, one minute looking at the balance, then the phone face down again. The end of the month still comes. It just comes with a sheet of paper.

When to seek professional support

This article is seven questions to write, a way of looking again at worry about money before opening the app. It cannot replace treatment, and I am not promising it will make that worry lighter.

But here are a few signs you should bring to a professional, rather than carrying them alone:

• Worry about money leaves you unable to sleep, eat or work for many weeks in a row
• You avoid every message, letter or call about money for months, even though you know that is making everything heavier
• You notice a racing heart, shortness of breath or tightness in your chest each time you think about it, so please see a doctor to rule out physical causes
• You think about hurting yourself, even if it is just a passing thought

The last point cannot wait. Speak with someone you trust, today. The Emergency Support page explains what holds true in moments like that.

If the hard part is the number rather than the feeling, someone who understands finance can help with what this piece cannot do for you. Needing both is perfectly ordinary.