Unlearning Financial Guilt as a First-Gen Student

As a recent graduate, I often catch myself reflecting on the “what ifs” of my university years. What if I had started working earlier? What if I stayed home for school? Could I have helped support my family more? Could I have eased the financial burden on my family, or made up for the money my parents sacrificed for my education?

For many first-generation (first-gen) college students, especially those from immigrant or working-class families, money isn’t just a personal matter.  It is deeply relational.  It is bound with sacrifice, survival, and systemic barriers.  Becoming the first in one’s family to attend university often brings more than new opportunities; it can also introduce a lasting sense of financial responsibility and emotional obligation.

As researchers note, first-generation students often come from low-income households, work long hours while enrolled, rely heavily on financial aid, and are less likely to participate in campus life, all factors that impact both academic performance and well-being (Moreno, 2016). The decision to leave home for university, while often framed as upward mobility, can also bring with it a deep sense of guilt, for leaving family behind, for choosing education over immediate contribution, and for fulfilling opportunities their loved ones never had. 

BEING A FINANCIAL BRIDGE

As a first-gen university student, pursuing my education wasn’t just a personal milestone, but a family milestone. However, with that came an unspoken role: becoming the financial bridge between where my family has been and where we’re all hoping to go. 

This role can take many forms.  I was fortunate, my parents sat down with me to map out budgets, and helped me navigate the confusing world of student loans.  But even with that guidance, there were so many moments where I still felt like I was on my own.  I remember having to figure out how to contact the university’s financial office to set up a tuition installment plan, something that seemed small on the surface but carried a huge weight. 

I was terrified of making a mistake that might affect my enrollment.  It was one of the first times I realized how much of this journey would be trial and error, with no handbook and no one to call who had done it before.  Like many first-gen students, I didn’t have a financial safety net or generations of experience to fall back on. What I had was determination, resourcefulness, and a constant sense of responsibility that shaped nearly every decision I made. 

For many first-gen students, there is a quiet, unspoken expectation that success won’t just benefit the individual, it will ripple outward to support the entire family.  Helping parents, contributing to household finances, and being a role model for younger siblings, it’s not a matter of if but when. This sense of responsibility doesn’t start after graduation; it is present from the beginning, shaping how we approach our education, money, and even our definition of success.  

This weight can create a complicated mental battle, where you may feel guilty for spending money on yourself, even on essentials, because every dollar feels like it should be put toward helping the family or saved for future needs. Personally, I felt that there was always a constant tension between striving toward personal goals and the desire to give back right away.  

Taking on this bridge role, between where one’s family has been and where they hope to go, can be both empowering but also extremely overwhelming.  It raises questions that don’t have easy answers: How do I move forward without feeling like I’m leaving my family behind? How do I honour my family while building a future that looks different than anything my family has known? 

In hindsight, these aren’t just financial questions but emotional ones, and for many first-gen students, they linger beneath the surface, shaping every thought, decision, and step of our journey. 

THE PSYCHOLOGY BEHIND FINANCIAL GUILT

My experience with money throughout my university career wasn’t just about the numbers; it was emotional, relational, and deeply tied to my identity.  Beneath the financial aid paperwork and the budgeting techniques, there are often complex psychological patterns at play. Four common, but often unspoken, dynamics that shape how we feel and think about money are as follows: 

Survivors Guilt 

A quiet but persistent question often lingers: Why do I get this opportunity when others in my family don't?  This guilt is especially strong when students witness the sacrifices their families made to get them to university.  Education becomes more than a personal achievement; it becomes a moral obligation to succeed, to give back, and make the struggle “worth it.” 

This emotional weight can turn ambition into anxiety, and success into something that feels undeserved.  Researchers call this family achievement guilt, the emotional experience of striving for a better future while recognizing that this journey can complicate family ties or may produce the feeling of “leaving the family” to attend university (Covarrubias et al., 2021.)

Internalized Scarcity

Growing up with financial instability teaches you things you don’t even realize at the time, that money is fragile, that it can disappear at any moment, and that you always need to be bracing for the next emergency.  Even when I started having a little more to work with, that fear didn't go away, like I was doing something wrong or reckless.  I would swipe my card and immediately worry: what if I need that money tomorrow? What if this was a mistake? 

That kind of mindset doesn’t just vanish once your circumstances change.  The crisis may have passed, but the sense of financial vulnerability can remain, embedded not just in our habits but our nervous system itself. 

Overidentification with the Caregiver Role

As an older sibling in a first-gen, working-class family, I stepped into the role of protector early on.  I looked out for my younger sibling in ways that went far beyond what most kids my age were doing, things like helping with homework or managing emotions in the house during tense situations.  

 

At that age, when the mind is still so impressionable, I started to believe that my worth came from how much I could do for others, especially for my family.  Being the “responsible” one didn’t just become part of my identity; it became the standard I held myself to, always. 

So when I started gaining more independence, especially financially, it didn’t feel as empowering as I expected.  It felt unfamiliar, even selfish, like I was stepping away from the role I had always played.  And the role wasn’t just about helping, it was about holding everything and everyone together.  Letting go of that, even a little, felt like I was letting someone down.  

Cultural Norms and Pressure

In many cultures, success is not defined by individual accomplishments, but by how much one can contribute back to the collective.  In this context, being successful isn’t about personal comfort; it’s about lifting up the whole family. 

That often clashes with the Western narratives of independence, self-care, and “doing it for yourself,” creating an internal conflict that can be hard to name.  As students, we can feel caught between two different value systems, unsure of how we pursue growth without feeling like we are betraying everything we came from. 

HOW THIS SHOWS UP IN REAL LIFE

These internal dynamics aren’t just abstract ideas; they show up in the everyday decisions we make as students, often without realizing why:

• Turning down jobs that align with long-term goals because they don’t pay enough to contribute financially at home.  The pressure to give back now can override the patience required to build a sustainable career. 

• Feeling guilty for resting or engaging in self-care.  Thoughts like “my parents worked nonstop, I can’t take a break now” can turn basic wellness into something that feels selfish. 

• Putting off personal milestones, moving out, applying to grad school, and starting therapy, because family needs always come first.  The sense of duty can delay growth, even when the intention is love. 

UNLEARNING THE GUILT: PRACTICAL TOOLS

For first-gen students and graduates, letting go of financial guilt isn’t about being ungrateful; it’s about finding a healthier way to honour where we come from without losing ourselves in the process. Here are a few ways to start: take notes! 

1. Name the Narrative

   1. Take time to reflect on the messages you grew up with about money, success, and responsibility.  

   2. What did you learn (possibly even indirectly) about what it means to be “good” with money? What do you owe to your family? What money story are you still living out, and is it still serving you? 

Sometimes these beliefs weren’t ours to begin with, and naming them is the first step towards choosing differently. 

2. Redefine “Support”

Support doesn’t have to mean self-sacrifice; it can also look like

•  Becoming financially stable so you can help sustainably later

•  Modeling boundaries for younger siblings 

•  Continuing to support family through knowledge, care, or connection

You can show up without burning out, and you’re not leaving your roots behind; you’re building from them.

3. Reframe Financial Self-Care

   1. Spending on rest, therapy, or growth isn’t selfish; it is a long-term investment in your well-being.  When you are used to surviving, anything that doesn’t feel like an immediate necessity, like going to therapy or even taking a mental health day, can feel indulgent or irresponsible 

Self-care isn’t a luxury.  It’s maintenance.  It is what keeps us from burning out, from resenting the goals we are working so hard to accomplish. We need to preserve the version of ourselves that our future and family need the most. 

CLOSING THOUGHT

If no one has told you this lately, you are allowed to want more for yourself, more peace, more stability, and more room to breathe.  That doesn’t make you ungrateful, and it doesn't mean you’re leaving anyone behind.  You can love your family and still choose to take care of yourself. 

I have always believed in the value of education, especially for first-gen students.  It can be a powerful tool for change, not just for ourselves, but for our families and communities.  But here is what I have had to learn the hard way: no degree, no job title, no external achievement is worth sacrificing your mental health. 

You don’t have to burn out to prove you’re grateful.  You don’t have to deprive yourself to prove you’re responsible.  Rest, support, and stability aren’t luxuries; they’re necessary!

Unlearning financial guilt means permitting yourself to define success on your terms, not through constant sacrifice, but through sustainability and self-trust.  You can honor where you come from without abandoning yourself in the process. 

References 

Covarrubias, R., De Lima, F., Landa, I., Valle, I., & Hernandez Flores, W.

(2021). Facets of Family Achievement Guilt for Low-Income, Latinx and Asian First-Generation Students. Cultural Diversity & Ethnic Minority Psychology, 27(4), 696–704. 

Moreno, R. (2016). The guilt of success: Looking at Latino first

generation college students and  the guilt they face from leaving their home and community to pursue college. ProQuest Dissertations & Theses.