Many of us believe that inheriting a large sum of money will make our lives infinitely better.
At last, we might be able to pay off the mortgage or go on that dream holiday.
Yet no one talks about the flip side – that an inheritance can also be an emotional and financial minefield that can make your life feel worse than before. And, in my experience, it can bring one particular feeling that you never see coming: shame.
Yes, shame. That was my overwhelming emotion after I inherited a combined £2 million following the deaths of both my parents while I was still in my 30s.
This feeling saw me make some huge financial mistakes, from poor investments to giving unwise handouts to friends and even, I confess, pretending to be poorer than I was.
But it’s only now – having realised that this is something that many women in particular struggle with – that I feel brave enough to share my experiences.
After all, I’m well aware that few people will be inclined to feel sympathetic that I’ve come into such a large sum, which has, admittedly, brought with it a charmed lifestyle.
Though I’ve worked as a transformation coach on an ad hoc basis for the past 13 years, my ten-year-old son and I have had the luxury of living in Spain while renting out our London home, as well as enjoying fabulous holidays all over the world. In fact, I don’t really need to work at all. I own two rental properties in the UK and could live comfortably off my investments.
Shame was my overwhelming emotion after I inherited a combined £2 million following the deaths of both my parents while I was still in my 30s, writes Marina Pearson
So what do I have to complain about? Well, I’ve learned that such privilege – the embarrassing sense of being handed everything in life, rather than having earned it – comes at a cost.
I grew up in a Grade II-listed, seven-bedroom house, complete with a tennis court, in Hampshire and was sent to expensive public schools.
After graduating with a degree in Spanish from Southampton University, I went to Madrid to teach English, later working in newspaper advertising and as an account manager in the music industry. In 2010, keen to create something for myself and help others, I decided to train as a transformation coach and set up my own practice.
Of course, I always knew I would come into money one day. Did that stop me pursuing a more lucrative career? I don’t think so, but maybe unconsciously. It was only when I inherited my parents’ fortunes that I became wealthy in my own right.
This brought with it acute embarrassment. Whenever I spent time with other women who had, through grit and nous, built successful businesses, I’d pretend that’s how I funded my lifestyle, too.
I wouldn’t lie about my wealth, I’d just stay quiet, believing that if they knew the truth I’d go down in their estimations.
And I had a deep-held fear of losing the money my parents grew and preserved. I’ve lain awake at night overwhelmed with worry about a ‘bad investment’ that could, and sometimes has, lead to a big loss.
When I inherited the money – around £1.6million from my dad, as his only child, and, three years later, £400,000 from my mum – I felt overwhelmed.
My father was from a different generation and never wasted an opportunity to ask me when I would be getting a ‘proper job’. He’d have liked me to do something corporate rather than ‘messing around’ in the music industry or life coaching so, if I’m honest, there was some relief mixed in with the sadness when he died.
For a long time, the inheritance didn’t feel like my money, which is why I felt ashamed talking about it.
Marina was too embarrassed to ask for help on how to better manage my finances – and went on to lose money
I now realise that if I’d been more open with friends with self-made fortunes, they’d probably have steered me away from some of the bad choices I made.
I’ve never been good with numbers and decided not to work with my father’s financial adviser, not understanding that he was there to help, not hinder me.
Consequently, I made some terrible financial decisions, losing in excess of £200,000 through investments in oil rigs and shipping containers, which fell, rather than grew, in value.
The pain of the loss was nothing compared with the shame I felt at putting what I still deemed to be my father’s fortune in jeopardy.
And yet, because I was still so deeply gripped by my inheritance shame and sense of being unworthy – meaning I was too embarrassed to ask for help on how to better manage my finances – I went on to lose more money.
Three years ago, I decided to refurbish a house in Spain, with the intention of living there with my son. It was one expensive disaster after another, which meant I wasted another £120,000. Still, few have sympathy for those of us experiencing the shame that comes with inheriting, as I discovered recently when I opened up about it on social media.
In my post, I said that while there’s an assumption that those of us with money don’t have problems, in fact, we have greater responsibilities to preserve our wealth – especially when it’s inherited.
Many people believe money would be the solution to all their struggles, so I suppose sarcastic comments – including ‘I wish I had that problem’ and ‘Poor you’ – were inevitable.
And I don’t for a second underestimate the stress of struggling to make ends meet.
But I, and others like me, should be allowed to recognise our privilege while exploring the challenges it can bring.
The struggle is, perhaps, most acute for female inheritors like me, says Marina. Fewer than a third (31 per cent) of women say they would feel confident investing, according to HSBC research last year
With property prices as they are, you don’t need to have grown up especially wealthy to inherit a substantial sum from the sale of the family home, and then feel guilty around those who haven’t been so fortunate. Likewise in experiencing the pressure not to lose it.
And the struggle is, perhaps, most acute for female inheritors like me. Fewer than a third (31 per cent) of women say they would feel confident investing, compared with 44 per cent of men, according to research last year by HSBC.
Desperate not to continue making mistakes, aged 49, I’ve now taken courses on how to better handle my money.
And I am now focusing my transformation coaching on supporting women also struggling with inheritance shame.
Women who, like me, may not know where to turn for advice on managing their wealth but feel embarrassed opening up about it. Because, as I’ve learned, trying to discuss these issues often leads to unfortunate outcomes.
A number of friendships have turned sour when I’ve been asked for financial help and said no.
I now have to careful with the friendships I build to ensure they’re based on love and respect rather than the prospect of financial gain.
It’s not my job to offer freebies to every acquaintance I come across.
If I did, I’d soon find myself with no money left – and then my inheritance shame really would be complete.
For more information about inheritance shame coaching, visit marinapearson.com
As told to Helen Carroll
