I have this weird relationship with money. I guess everyone has some sort of relationship with money in their own unique way. My family and I grew up poor. We came here when I was four and my sister was five. My parents took on random jobs before eventually landing in sewing. I remember growing up, even though I went to a public school in the western suburbs, every year my sister and I would get nervous about how much they needed to pay for uniforms, books, and stationery.

We often bought textbooks brand new, and it was hundreds of dollars back then—money I knew my parents struggled to find, but they always managed somehow. This made my sister and me study really hard, because it felt like the least we could do to help them. The alternative was failing at school and being poor at the same time. That would’ve probably made my parents weep at night.

Living on a low income meant I had to get really good at managing money. I started budgeting for all sorts of things, and I’ve stayed good at it even now. There was a time when I quit my job at a café to try becoming a personal trainer and starting my own business. I didn’t have much money to go by, and the gig lasted about a year. After that, I moved back in with my parents and worked at their restaurant. Suddenly, having a stable income took away the stress I had with money.

A few years later, we moved back to Melbourne, and I got a full-time job as a machine operator (which I’m still doing). The pay has been consistent, and I haven’t had to worry about money much in the past seven years.

I bring up money because I feel like there’s always this balance I’m trying to find—living a luxurious life while staying within my means. A luxurious life doesn’t have to mean living in a mansion or owning expensive things. It could be something as simple as having a roof over my head, good friends and company, being able to work out, and staying in good health. That’s quite a life, I think. One a lot of people would dream of having.

Today, I went out for lunch with my partner and his foster father for yum cha. The food was really good, but it was expensive—about 15 to 18 AUD for a portion of 3-4 dumplings. It turned me off. I actually fall in the lower-income segment of the Australian population, and even though my partner was covering for us, I lost my appetite. It made me feel poor, like I couldn’t afford these kinds of meals if I were by myself.

It reminded me of those years when I used to hunt for the best hidden-gem food in Melbourne. Places where the food wasn’t just delicious but cheap too. I’d get so excited about finding them and tell everyone, “See? There is such a thing as great food at affordable prices!” But there aren’t many of those places around anymore. That’s alright, though—it just means I’ll have to adapt. I’ll learn to cook better food at home and manage my finances even more carefully. Adapt, like water.

I sometimes joke and tell people that I’m poor. The thing with jokes is, they’re often half true. In this case, maybe three-quarters true. I don’t know if I’m missing out on life because I don’t have the money to experience all of it. Sometimes I feel pressure to change my career and look for a higher-paying job, but I don’t want the stress that usually comes with that. I think I’m managing just fine.

I don’t earn a lot compared to the people around me, but that’s okay. I feel rich in other ways—in the things I have, the skills I’ve gained, the country I live in, and the family and friends around me. That includes everyone here who has followed my life up to this point. Life has its struggles, but I wouldn’t trade the richness I feel in my heart for anything.