Why I Put My Prices Up (A Lot)
And the crucial question that made me squirm
The question kept tugging at my skirts: was I charging enough?
I have worked as a psychotherapist for decades, and during this time I have raised my fee every other year or so, at £5 a time.
Then. My old clinical supervisor charged the same as me, and my new supervisor charged £25 more than I did. A client wrote to double check that I charged what I charged, not the same figure with a one on the front of it. I started to research what other Internal Family Systems therapists were charging across the UK (more than me).
I started checking in with my multitude of voices1, agitated by what I was considering:
“You deserve more money!”
“Call yourself a Buddhist? You should be content with a bowl and a set of robes.”
“Think of all the people in the world who are starving or dying from preventable illnesses right now. If you have any spare money it should be going straight to them.”
“Maybe you could avoid suffering if you charged more - buy new stuff, move into that house in the country away from all responsibilities…”
“If you charged more, what would your therapist friend who charges much less think of you?”
“I do work really hard, maybe I do deserve a bit more…”
“Outrageous.” “Greedy.” “Selfish.” “Spoilt.” “Worthless.”
As I talked with my new supervisor about my options, we agreed about how complicated money was - how many layers of meaning there are both inside and outside. I’m painfully aware of the privilege inherent in my being able to write this piece at all. I am complicit in receiving huge benefits as a result of the oppression of other people. This is true every time I use my mobile phone or wear clothes from that cheap shop or enjoy food out of season. How dare I give time and energy to whether or not I should have even MORE?
Also, it was true that I was charging less than most of my colleagues. It was true that I do split my time between well-paid therapy work and minimum-wage Dharma work for the temple I run with my spouse. I was starting to feel like I could do it…
Then my supervisor asked me a question:
“How much money do you need?”
A horrible feeling landed in my stomach and the voices went a little crazy. “Far less than you currently have,” said the loudest. Do I really need a big TV? No. Do I really need a car to drive the dogs to nice dog walk spots? No. Do I really need the new sequined jumper I bought especially for Christmas, or the expensive vegan chocolates, or the UK holiday cottages twice a year? No, no, no.
Do I want them?
Yes.
Do I want to save up so we can move into a little house close to the temple in a few years time? Yes. Do I want to enjoy luxuries sometimes? Yes. Do I want to find a way of balancing out my Dharma work (which I know is helpful to people, and which is important to me)? Yes. Do I value myself enough to charge my new hourly rate?
Yes.
Later in the supervision session we did some parts work with a young part of me that had been shamed for enjoying nice things - high quality objects, abundance, frivolous things. Once this part had been unburdened of this shame, which came at them through other people’s eyes and which they had internalised as ‘something wrong with them’, they were free again to frolic luxuriously in the fine things in life. They’re still having a wonderful time in my internal world, surrounded by glittering jewels and gorgeous paintings and artisan pastries and all kinds of beautiful things.
I am not entirely settled on this matter, and I’m sure I never will be. I still have parts that say me-having-more-money means others having less, and that I’m taking it away from them. There’s truth in that. I have parts that are worried that others will judge me harshly in various ways (some will, and that will be understandable!). I also have parts that feel I should suffer a little because good people do, parts that will work hard to give away or spend any ‘spare’ money so I will always have ‘just enough’, and parts that want to continue to show people that I am actually quite poor (I’m not).
I did put my prices up. 17% this year, and advance warning of another 17% rise at the same time next year. I negotiated with any current clients who couldn’t afford the new fee. If they had any (understandable) feelings about the increase, I made space for them to share them. We all survived.
🦚 🦚
Yesterday, driving home from a long walk along the river Wye, I revisited my supervisor’s question: How much money do I need? The word ‘need’ was still needling me - I only felt comfortable when I changed it to ‘want’. But then I started wondering. What does ‘need’ mean, anyway? I came to a reframe of the question: How much money do I need in order to flourish, and in order to make my best contribution to the world?
I need things in order to flourish. Food, ethical toiletries, a big TV, a little car. Dog treats and flea treatments. A replacement for this tired old laptop.
I need security in order to flourish. Future security - enough income to put some aside into a pension, and a bigger savings buffer than I have now. Pet insurance. Knowing that I have enough put away to cover any periods of illnesses.
I need to manage the quirks of my system in order to flourish. When we move from the temple my introverted parts long for a little house that has green all around it. The limits of how much I can psychologically hold mean I need to keep space in my diary around running retreat days etc. and so I can’t see too many more clients as I want to give them the best of me.
I need to keep learning in order to flourish. Books! Occasional retreats - spiritual and therapeutic. Courses. Time to read and contemplate. More books!
I need sparkle in order to flourish. To occasionally buy a piece of art. To go and see films and plays. To eat delicious meals out sometimes. The odd sparkly jumper for Christmas. Posh vegan caramel chocolates.
I can check myself - are the things I am requesting reasonable? This is impossible to answer in an objective way as if I lived in a different country, most of these things would be out of reach for most of the population. That’s also true for many parts of this country. We could always spend less. Sometimes it’s appropriate to choose ‘cheaper’ ways of meeting my needs, like shopping in Aldi or holidaying in a non-ideal but very cheap friend’s cottage. Sometimes I’d rather have nothing than the cheaper alternative (see, posh vegan caramel chocolates, or wanting to support a particular artist or a writer here on Substack).
My needs will probably change over time. As I have healed young parts of me over time, I have noticed myself being less ‘grabby’ around money, and less anxious. I feel more comfortable when more money flows through me. I am more willing to pay others a decent amount for their services (which, e.g. getting a massage, is also a way of nourishing and valuing me).
I’ll keep being curious about my relationship with money. It will continue to show me things about myself. Maybe one day I’ll be able to surrender my needs for all of that stuff, and be content with a begging bowl and a robe. In the meantime, this is who I am, and this is what supports me.
Will I always get all the things that I need in order to flourish? Of course not - none of us do.
Is it okay to ask for the things that I need in order to flourish?
Yes. Yes, I think it is.
Go gently,
Satya <3
🦚 🦚 🦚
Tell me: What does this piece stir in you? Which parts of you are actived? What are they saying? What do you need in order to flourish? These needs may require money to solve them, or they might be met by nature, time, other people’s offerings etc. If you’re willing to share anything about your relationship with money in the comments I’d love to hear about it.
For excellent writing about money elsewhere on Substack I’d recommend
at and at . I enjoyed Ramit Sethi’s ‘How To Get Rich’ on Netflix and particularly liked the idea of defining OUR rich life, not anyone else’s. What does your rich life look like?Lots of voices inside = Internal Family Systems - here’s my introduction essay with puppies.
Thank you for this. Money is heavy, and I understand the conundrum. I've recently gone back to self employment, out of necessity. And when I think of how much money I need to flourish? I don't know. I am not sure I ever have flourished in that way. Certainly money would be a relief because I don't have enough retirement savings and I cannot work forever and I have had to work more than one job for decades. My body is already breaking down (okay, has been for some time, truth be told) and I don't have enough hours or energy to be able to earn what I need. My mother died young from this, caring for others, not enough for herself, working two jobs just to live. Need? I need a break, a vacation, a writers retreat or art class. I need nature. I need to get away from the toxicity and expense of this area. I need a house with few or no stairs because I have fallen and I cannot carry things up and down and neither can my husband. I need grocery delivery because everything is like money - too heavy, and I have these poor fragile bones. I need a yard and birds and wildlife. I need to help others, but if I can't make enough myself, I can't help them, either. And I really need rest so I can do my best work. So yes, I've had to raise my rates, too. But to what? I don't know. I'll compare others, like you did, Satya, and take my best numerical guess. In the meantime, I'm going back to bed. Blessings to you, from across the pond.
Thank you for these questions, Satya. Money often feels quite scary for me - I think because, like so many people, there was never enough of it in my childhood and it was the thing that my parents worried about more than anything... But my childhood was rich in so many other ways... Lots to ponder here... Sending sparkles. ✨✨✨