“A UAE resident offers an in-depth perspective on whether consistent saving serves as the most crucial habit for achieving financial security, shaping money choices and supporting sustainable long-term wealth development.”
Is Saving Really the Key to Financial Success? A UAE Resident Responds.
Beth Clay, a financial wellness expert and brand strategist, is still fairly new to Dubai. Now 39, the British expat has lived in the emirate for just over three years and notes how quickly its financial scene is changing. She tells wknd. about her personal shift in how she views money — moving from constant worry to a sense of stability.
If I were to speak directly to money, I’d begin by acknowledging how misunderstood you’ve been throughout our lives. So often, people define you purely by numbers on a screen — numbers that always seem too small, too late, or too far away. We chase you relentlessly, believing that the more of you we gather, the safer or more successful we become. Yet, the truth is far more complex. You’ve never been just a balance or a figure; you’ve always been a quiet reflection of the emotional world we carry within us.
You reveal our insecurities in ways we rarely recognise. When someone feels unworthy, they might fear you or avoid dealing with you altogether. When someone believes opportunities are scarce, they may cling tightly to you, convinced you’ll disappear at any moment. Every worry, every impulse to hoard or overspend, every moment of comparison with others — it all exposes a deeper narrative about what we believe we deserve, what we fear losing, and who we think we must be.
But something shifts when we stop treating you as a prize to win or a measurement of our value. When we begin to understand you as part of a relationship — one that requires attention, honesty, and balance — you become less intimidating. You start to resemble a partner rather than an adversary. In that space, we no longer chase you from desperation or anxiety; instead, we create stability by learning how to use you wisely.
And that’s when your real purpose becomes clear: you are not the end goal. You are a tool, a resource, a means of shaping experiences. You grant options, support dreams, and open pathways that once felt unimaginable. When we redefine our relationship with you, you evolve from a symbol of fear into a catalyst for possibility.
My relationship with money today is grounded and steady, but reaching this point took time, reflection, and unlearning years of old habits. For a long stretch of my life, money felt like a source of tension rather than a tool. I carried an almost constant sense of worry — a belief that one wrong move or unexpected setback would wipe everything out. Even small financial decisions stirred up a sense of looming disaster. I didn’t realise it then, but those reactions were tied to deeper emotional patterns I had absorbed over the years, patterns that shaped how I viewed security, success, and my own sense of safety.
The turning point came when I started exploring the psychological side of money — why we behave the way we do, why certain fears cling to us, and how our personal histories shape the stories we tell ourselves about earning, spending, and holding onto wealth. Understanding those hidden influences allowed me to see that my fears weren’t really about money itself; they were about old beliefs that no longer served me. Slowly unraveling them helped me rebuild a healthier narrative, one rooted in clarity rather than anxiety.
From there, everything began to shift. As I gained insight into my emotional triggers, I also became more intentional in my practical choices. I started planning with purpose and allocating my resources in a way that felt thoughtful and empowering. One of the most helpful strategies has been dividing my finances into distinct “pots,” each with its own role—whether for essentials, future goals, emergencies, or personal enjoyment. This structure gives me a sense of oversight without feeling restrictive.
Today, money no longer feels like something that might slip away at any moment. Instead, it feels manageable, organised, and aligned with the life I’m building. It’s a relationship rooted in confidence rather than fear.
When I look back at how my relationship with money was shaped, I can see very clearly that it began at home. A large part of my early understanding of finances came from watching my father. He worked as a financial director, and money, to him, was never something to fear or obsess over. It was simply a tool—a resource that, if handled wisely, could create opportunities, stability, and choices. He demonstrated this not only through what he taught, but through the way he provided for us. I saw how he planned, how he set goals, and how he made decisions that balanced practicality with vision. Those early lessons quietly planted a foundation inside me: the idea that money could be used constructively and that it was tied to purpose rather than panic.
But then everything changed. Losing him so suddenly when I was still in my teens created a shock that echoed through every part of my life, including my beliefs about security. The grief was enormous, but the emotional aftermath carried other consequences I didn’t recognise at the time. Without realising it, I started to internalise the fear of sudden loss—not just of people, but of anything that felt stable or dependable. That fear eventually attached itself to money. Even though I had absorbed healthy financial habits from my father, the emotional undercurrent of losing him distorted the story I told myself. Somewhere deep inside, I began to believe that anything could disappear without warning, and that belief turned money into something fragile and unpredictable.
I carried those feelings with me for years without understanding where they came from. It wasn’t until my thirties that I began to untangle the emotional knots behind my financial decisions. Through intentional work—self-reflection, therapy, and studying the psychology of money—I started piecing together how my past had shaped my behaviours. I realised that I wasn’t afraid of money itself; I was afraid of loss. And because that fear was unexamined, it kept replaying itself in subtle, unconscious ways.
My career journey played a major role in reshaping that narrative. Working in the corporate world taught me structure, discipline, and strategic thinking. It helped me see money from a different vantage point—one that was less personal and more analytical. Later, taking the leap into entrepreneurship pushed me to face my fears even more directly. When you run your own business, you quickly learn that money moves, fluctuates, and grows only when you make decisions from a place of clarity rather than panic.
Then there was the experience of pitching on Shark Tank UAE. That moment forced me to step into a new level of confidence—one where I had to value my ideas, my expertise, and the business I was building. It reinforced the idea that money responds to mindset, courage, and preparation. Coaching others deepened this understanding even further. I began to see that almost everyone carries money stories shaped by their upbringing, their traumas, or the beliefs they inherited. Recognising this helped me rewrite my own narrative with compassion.
Today, I no longer view money as something that might be taken away suddenly. Instead, I see it as a partner—one that grows with intention, respects clarity, and thrives when met with a healthy story. Ultimately, my relationship with money was formed through a blend of early lessons, deep loss, personal evolution, and the courage to redefine what those experiences mean.
When I think about the financial lessons I absorbed from my mother, the strongest theme that comes to mind is resilience. After my father passed, she became the person who carried forward the principles he believed in, but she did it in her own way. She showed me the value of being prepared for life’s uncertainties—whether through maintaining proper insurance, setting aside money for later years, or investing with a long-term mindset. She approached these responsibilities with steadiness, demonstrating that financial planning isn’t just about discipline; it’s a form of self-protection and care.
At the same time, she never allowed planning for the future to overshadow living in the present. She made sure I understood that money should not only safeguard you but also enrich your life. Whether it was treating ourselves occasionally, creating meaningful experiences, or simply giving ourselves permission to enjoy what we worked for, she modelled the idea that joy and financial responsibility can coexist.
That blend of foresight and enjoyment has deeply influenced the way I guide others today. It’s not enough to save endlessly or spend without intention—the real power lies in finding a rhythm that supports both stability and happiness in everyday life.
When it comes to talking about money, I’ve learned that openness is not just helpful—it’s essential. Over the years, I’ve become someone who treats money conversations as a normal and healthy part of life rather than something to tiptoe around. This approach didn’t develop randomly; it grew out of my work in financial wellness and from witnessing firsthand how much people suffer in silence because they feel they can’t express their financial anxieties, needs, or goals without judgment.
In my coaching practice, creating a safe space for honest dialogue is non-negotiable. I encourage every client to break the silence surrounding money within their own families and personal circles. That often starts with speaking to the people closest to them—their partners, siblings, adult children, close friends, and sometimes even colleagues if the context feels right. When we begin discussing money with the people who share our lives, we build bridges of clarity and understanding. Those conversations allow us to align goals, set expectations, and reveal blind spots we might miss on our own.
For example, when partners sit down and openly discuss what they’re earning, what they’re spending, and where they want to be years from now, it can completely transform the way they make decisions together. Similarly, when siblings or adult family members talk about responsibilities, long-term planning, or shared financial roles, it reduces conflict and ensures no one is blindsided later. Even talking to friends can be liberating; sharing challenges or asking for advice can normalize experiences we often think we’re facing alone.
I’ve never viewed money as a taboo subject, although I understand why many people do. Society has long wrapped money in layers of shame, comparison, secrecy, and discomfort. We’re taught that discussing it openly is inappropriate, impolite, or a sign of weakness. But that silence is precisely why so many people struggle—because no one is talking about the realities behind the scenes. Financial pressure feels heavier when you believe you’re the only one dealing with it. And without conversation, we lose opportunities to learn from one another, support one another, and shift unhelpful patterns.
In my view, money becomes far less intimidating once we strip away the secrecy around it. When we bring our worries, ambitions, and questions into the open, we can see our situation more clearly. More importantly, we allow others to share strategies, tools, and perspectives that might completely change the way we approach our finances. Many breakthroughs I see in clients happen not because they suddenly earn more, but because they finally speak openly and ask for help.
So no, I don’t consider money a taboo topic—not in the slightest. If anything, I believe the cultural silence around money is one of the biggest obstacles to financial wellbeing. The more we normalise these conversations, the more empowered we become. We’re able to make informed decisions, set intentional goals, and release the shame that keeps us stuck. Honest dialogue isn’t just useful—it’s transformative.
Who has taught you the most about financial management?
My earliest financial lessons came from my father. He gave me the foundational understanding of how money works and why planning matters. But interestingly, the people who teach me the most today aren’t mentors or experts—they’re my clients. Every coaching session offers a glimpse into a different relationship with money. I see how childhood experiences, cultural expectations, personal fears, and big life events shape the way people earn, save, spend, and think about wealth.
These conversations constantly broaden my perspective. Clients reveal real, unfiltered stories that you don’t find in textbooks—stories of guilt, ambition, avoidance, discipline, and hope. Through them, I’ve learned that financial management has far less to do with spreadsheets and far more to do with human behaviour. The emotional layers behind money choices are often the real drivers, and exploring those layers helps me refine the way I guide others.
In many ways, my clients are my greatest teachers because they remind me that money is never just about arithmetic. It’s intertwined with identity, self-worth, safety, and possibility. Seeing those patterns in others has deepened my own understanding more than any formal training ever could.
How has living in the UAE shaped your relationship with wealth?
Living in the UAE has transformed the way I view money and ambition. This country is filled with energy—dreams are bigger, opportunities move quickly, and success is visible everywhere you turn. That atmosphere can be incredibly motivating, but it can also make you question your own values. You’re constantly surrounded by people achieving remarkable things, which pushes you to reflect on what you truly want rather than what you feel pressured to chase.
Being in this environment encouraged me to look inward and ask deeper questions: What does wealth personally mean to me? Am I pursuing goals that genuinely feel aligned with my life, or am I getting caught up in comparison? The UAE has a unique way of magnifying these reflections because the contrast between inspiration and overwhelm sits right next to each other.
My work here has further shaped that awareness. Supporting people from diverse backgrounds has shown me that while many come seeking financial growth, what they really crave is a healthier, calmer relationship with money. Wealth becomes meaningful when it aligns with wellbeing, purpose, and authenticity.
Ultimately, the UAE has taught me that abundance isn’t just about earning more—it’s about defining a life that feels grounded, intentional, and true to who you are.
If I could offer my younger self—or my child—one piece of advice about money, it would be this: start thinking about the future now, even in small, manageable ways. Life is meant to be enjoyed, and I don’t believe in denying yourself experiences or pleasures in the present. At the same time, taking consistent, incremental steps to secure your financial future builds confidence and independence over time.
Even putting aside a modest amount—say 100 or 500 dirhams a month—can feel surprisingly powerful when done consistently. It’s not about hitting a big number overnight; it’s about creating a habit of self-trust. Each small contribution reinforces the belief that you are capable of managing your resources and planning ahead. Over the years, those tiny steps accumulate, and suddenly you have a safety net, a foundation for bigger goals, and a sense of financial empowerment.
The idea is simple but transformative: honor your present while making deliberate choices for your future self. By nurturing that balance, you learn discipline without sacrifice, foresight without fear, and patience without regret. Money then becomes less about anxiety and more about freedom, options, and the confidence to navigate life with both joy and security.
When I think about what I truly value spending money on, the answer is simple: experiences. Over the course of my twenties and early thirties, I invested a lot of my time, energy, and finances in travelling. For me, those journeys were about more than just ticking destinations off a list—they were about exposure, learning, and growth. Each new city, culture, and encounter offered lessons that no classroom or book could provide. I learned to navigate unfamiliar spaces, connect with people from vastly different backgrounds, and appreciate the richness and diversity of the world. Those moments became memories I still carry with me and often reflect on when making decisions about how I live today.
Now, my perspective has evolved as I’ve entered a different chapter of life. I’m not just thinking about my own experiences anymore; I’m thinking about how I can share the wonder of the world with my children. I want to help them see life through curious eyes, to inspire them to ask questions, and to create memories that shape their understanding of themselves and the world around them. Whether it’s exploring a new country, attending cultural events, or simply discovering the hidden treasures in our own backyard, I prioritize spending in ways that enrich our lives collectively.
For me, money’s greatest value is in enabling connection, growth, and joy. It’s not about accumulating material possessions but about creating stories, bonding over shared adventures, and cultivating experiences that leave a lasting imprint. In the end, these moments are priceless—they form the legacy I hope to pass on to my children and continue to shape my own life in meaningful ways.
