An attachment theory for your relationship with money — why your bank balance triggers the same nervous system as your childhood ever did, and what to actually do about it.
Two dimensions underneath every pattern: Anxiety, the fear of not having enough, and Avoidance, the fear of feeling trapped by money.
Three sub-styles to a quadrant, each paired with one concrete technique for working with it.
Low anxiety, low avoidance. You trust that money will mostly work out.
Checks in at sane intervals and trusts the system the rest of the time — a partner, an advisor, an autopilot transfer — instead of needing to watch every leg of the trip to believe the bag will actually arrive. This person has faith that it will work out okay.
Opens the mail, checks the balance, follows up on the loose end — on an ordinary Tuesday, not a crisis day — because looking was never actually the dangerous part.
A stretch runs hot, a stretch runs cold, and both get absorbed as ordinary variation — no spree to chase it, no panicked overcorrection to follow it, because neither extreme is where this nervous system lives.
High anxiety, low avoidance. Money is watched, counted, and worried over.
Compulsive monitoring — checking balances and refreshing statements, scanning for danger that hasn't arrived.
TRY
Before you check again, write down the actual evidence for and against the fear. A concrete, countable answer to a threat that feels total and formless.
Manages their own high anxiety by taking on other people's money problems as their own — projecting onto, and trying to control, other people's spending, saving, and investing habits.
TRY
Before you weigh in on someone else's money decision, ask whether they actually invited the input. The danger point is the urge to control it, not the concern underneath it.
Reads an ordinary financial event — a slow day, a market dip over a week — as proof the whole thing is collapsing, regardless of what the numbers show. Any bad data point gets catastrophized into everything: a broken hair dryer once became, by dinner, “we're going to lose the house.”
TRY
One monthly review with a standing rule: an off month is unremarkable data, not evidence requiring an emergency response.
Low anxiety, high avoidance. Money stays unexamined, and so do the feelings underneath it.
Avoids financial information entirely — unopened mail, unchecked balances, sometimes for years — then acts surprised when the debt collector finally calls.
TRY
20 bounded minutes, once a week, with a hard stop, and someone else aware you're doing it — so looking doesn't depend on willpower.
Makes financial decisions in a vacuum and simply never mentions them — no input from another person, no outside data, just a call made alone and sealed shut, like buying too much on vacation and hoping it somehow fits in the bag.
TRY
Before it's final, bring in one outside data point or one other person's read — not to ask permission, just to break the seal before the decision locks.
Willing to discuss money if asked, but consistently downplays how big or urgent a problem really is — the expanded roller bag insisting it's still a carry-on, genuinely offended when it finally gets gate-checked.
TRY
Practice naming one honest number or preference out loud, instead of the reflex to make it sound smaller.
High anxiety, high avoidance. Swings between panic and shutdown.
Swings visibly between spending sprees and panicked overcorrection, with no obvious in-between.
TRY
Pre-agree on one action for either extreme, before it happens. A menu of choices is exactly what this pattern can't use once it's activated.
Alternates between total absorption and total disinterest in money — their own and everyone else's — with no steady in-between, and it's as confusing to the people around them as it is to the person living it. The same trip gets seven kimonos and zero socks.
TRY
Pre-agree on one fixed checklist of the boring basics, and run it every time, regardless of how much interest or disinterest you feel in the moment. The checklist catches what the swing itself can't.
Alternates between taking over someone else's finances — unasked-for loans, rescues, advice — and quietly setting the whole thing down once it gets heavy. The Overpacker's generosity, minus the anxiety and minus the follow-through.
TRY
Ask before you carry it: “Do you want help, or do you want to be heard?” Then check your own bag before anyone else's.
Find your Money Attachment Style and your sub-style, see how your pattern shifts across different areas of your life, and get one technique to try this week.
Nine short parts, about 30 minutes. The questions adapt to your answers, and at the end you get a full profile: your style, your sub-style, where it shows up, where it came from, and one technique to try this week. Your progress saves on your device if you need a break.
Begin the AssessmentShort on time? Take the five-minute quick quiz for a first read.
Your answers go to Linny and Tandemly only, and are never sold or shared. This is a starting compass, not a diagnosis, and not clinical or financial advice.
Sixteen statements, five honest minutes. A first read on your style — the full assessment above goes much deeper.
Money Baggage is written in draft — these are the chapters as they currently stand.
The core metaphor, and why a spreadsheet has never once fixed an emotional pattern.
The full framework: four styles, twelve sub-styles, the quiz to find your own, and a first technique for each.
Building your money genogram — tracing the scripts and silences across generations.
The feeling doing more damage in this territory than any other single emotion.
Catching your pattern in real time, instead of only recognizing it in hindsight.
What happens when a number quietly becomes a verdict on who you are.
What's really happening when two Money Attachment Styles collide — partners, co-founders, family.
Naming, regulating, reframing, and rehearsing — the four stages of actual change.
The external structures that keep a private breakthrough from getting eaten alive at Thanksgiving.
What you're already transmitting to whoever's younger than you — and how to change it on purpose.
The checklist, scripts you can borrow mid-conversation, and the twelve sub-styles at a glance.
An optional second layer: your Enneagram type as it shows up around money — the why behind your style.

Linny is a Licensed Professional Counselor specializing in the intersection of attachment, family systems, and money. Drawing on fifteen years of clinical practice, her certification in the Integrative Enneagram Questionnaire, and considerable personal experience unpacking her own baggage, she developed the Money Attachment Styles framework at the center of Money Baggage.
She works with individuals, couples, and business partners navigating the emotional architecture underneath their financial lives. She is also Co-Founder of Tandemly, a leadership coaching and business consulting practice that helps executives and teams level up through coaching, management consulting, and Enneagram-based work. Money Baggage is her first book as a solo author; before it, she co-wrote Please Do Disturb (Barett Kohler).
New chapters, quiz results by the numbers, and early access as the book develops — straight to your inbox.
Money Baggage is still being written — which means this is the right moment to talk, collaborate, or bring the framework into your own work.
Individual, couples, and business-partner work using the Money Attachment Styles framework.
InquirePodcasts, interviews, and collaborations — happy to talk through the framework or a specific chapter.
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