I’ve always been fascinated by the way something as seemingly inanimate as money can shape the very core of our human experiences. It’s not just about what sits in our bank accounts or how much we earn; it’s about what money means to us. For many, it represents far more than coins and notes or numbers on a screen. It can mean security, status, freedom, or even control.

In Western society, we place huge emphasis on romantic love. Marriages and long-term relationships are usually formed out of personal choice, emotional chemistry, and the belief that love will conquer all. But when we look at other cultures, where marriage may be arranged or guided by family, with an eye on financial security or social responsibility, we begin to understand how relationships around the world are shaped by very different expectations. Neither is inherently better – they simply come with different frameworks for what “success” in a relationship looks like.

In our Western model, love is often expected to withstand the pressures of everyday life: career changes, parenting, illness, and yes, finances. But somewhere along the way, when the financial dynamic shifts, so too does something more intangible – the unspoken agreements, the sense of shared value, and the often delicate power balance between two people.

One pattern that seems to be emerging more frequently – both in my practice and in my personal observation – is the growing number of women who are out-earning their male partners. On the surface, this seems like progress. Why wouldn’t it be? Many couples initially say, “It doesn’t matter – we love each other.” But in the therapy room, the picture can be much more complex. Over time, something subtle but significant can begin to unravel.

Often, the woman in the relationship is completely comfortable with the financial disparity. She sees everything as a shared team effort. But for some men, there’s an internal struggle that has less to do with money and more to do with identity. The cultural messages around masculinity – around being the provider, the protector – can run deep. When those roles feel redundant, some men begin to feel, quite simply, irrelevant.

I think of one client I’ll call Jess. Jess came to me heartbroken and confused. She had lost both her parents young and had inherited a significant amount of property and money. She was also holding down a successful, well-paid job. Her partner, Mark, earned less and had a more modest lifestyle before they met.

At first, things were wonderful. They were in love, they travelled, and Jess enjoyed sharing her good fortune. She paid for holidays, treated him kindly, and genuinely believed they had something special. But slowly, Mark began to withdraw. He became irritable, distant, and eventually he left – abruptly and without much explanation.

Jess was devastated. “I thought he’d be happy,” she told me. “I thought he’d enjoy the life we could have together. I never made him feel less than – so why did he resent me?”

It’s possible he didn’t resent Jess at all. He may have resented how he felt in the relationship. He may have struggled to see his place, to feel valuable, to feel like he could contribute in a way that mattered. For some men, being the one who is financially cared for rather than the one doing the caring can provoke feelings of inadequacy or shame – even if their partner has no issue with it at all.

I often hear men in these situations use phrases like “she doesn’t need me,” or “I feel like a sponger.” These are not financial concerns in the traditional sense, they’re emotional ones. They speak to a wounded sense of self-worth, and without the space to explore those feelings, many men choose to step away rather than confront them.

Another critical shift I often witness in couples happens with the arrival of children. Even relationships that felt balanced before the baby can be turned upside down once parental roles kick in. For many women, maternity leave results in a dramatic drop in income, or even the complete loss of it. Some find themselves unable to return to work because childcare costs outweigh their earnings. Meanwhile, many men step more fully into the role of financial provider.

One client, Rachel, shared that after having her son, she felt invisible. “It’s like my voice doesn’t count anymore,” she said. “We used to be a team. Now I feel like I’m just here to keep the house running while he brings in the money.”

Rachel’s partner, John, admitted feeling trapped. “I can’t leave my job,” he said. “Even though I hate it. I have to be the stable one.”

In truth, they were both stuck. Rachel, longing to be seen as more than a mum and housekeeper; John, wishing he could be more than a cash machine. These are common dynamics that can take root quietly and grow, often without either partner truly understanding what’s gone wrong. Power, visibility, contribution – they all become subtly tied to financial roles.

It’s important to say that not all financial imbalance leads to unhappiness. Many couples navigate these differences beautifully. But the couples who thrive aren’t necessarily the ones with the most money, they’re the ones who talk about it openly. Who listen to each other with curiosity and compassion. Who understand that beneath the figures and budgets are stories about worth, about identity, about the roles we were taught to play.

And sometimes, the darker side of financial dynamics emerges. Money can be used to control, manipulate, and punish, especially in the aftermath of divorce or separation. I’ve sadly seen this many times and experienced it myself. A partner might withhold child maintenance payments, knowing the anxiety it causes. They may drag their ex-partner through the courts repeatedly, not out of genuine concern for the child, but as a means of exerting control and draining resources.

In these cases, the legal system can become a new arena for the abuse to continue quietly, insidiously, and devastatingly.

So, what’s the way forward?

It lies in honesty. In being brave enough to have the conversations that make us squirm. In recognising that money is never just about money. It’s about love, power, safety, purpose. It’s about how we see ourselves, and how we want others to see us.

Therapy offers a rare and precious space to unravel these threads. A space without judgment, where couples and individuals can begin to understand what’s really going on beneath the surface.

Because in the end, our relationships thrive not on financial stability alone, but on emotional fluency. On feeling seen, valued, heard. And the most powerful conversations we can have about money are the ones that go beyond pounds and pence and reach the heart of who we truly are.