‘Did I buy it just to make myself feel better?’: Why Gen Z can’t stop spending but also feel guilty about it

The viscious cycle of treat, regret, repeat

Ananya Bhardwaj, 27, spends the most on cafés, convenience services, skincare, and clothes, buying the latter during sales to curb emotional spending. “With the former two, I generally feel a pang of guilt at having overspent from my day-to-day budget,” she says.

She has learned to hit pause, though. Letting items sit in her cart for a day or two helps her determine “whether it’s essential to feeling better or just a dopamine hit I’m chasing.”

Shruti Jain, 24, describes her spends as “little rewards” after completing tasks. “In those moments, it genuinely feels rewarding and well-earned.” But impulsive shopping after exhausting days brings comfort followed by guilt. “I’m still learning where the line is — comfort feels nurturing, but indulgence is when I realise I was trying to fill an emotional gap rather than addressing what I was actually feeling.”

Correa’s chivalry compounds his anxiety. During college, earning Rs 8,000 monthly, he paid for all dates and friends dining out. A haircut that cost Rs 170 at a local barber now costs Rs 540 at a proper salon every three weeks. “I feel like I’m indulging when I shouldn’t, and it hits my self-worth.”

He loves watching movies alone, a mental health ritual he follows, but constantly checks his bank account while looking at ticket rates ranging from Rs 120 to Rs 1,200. His coping mechanism: justifying one movie every three months, haircuts only when necessary.

Even Miraya Mehta, 18, feels it. She spends mostly on clothes, which boosts her confidence initially. But once the excitement fades, “the feeling becomes a mix of enjoyment and self-questioning.” Before buying, she rethinks expensive items “at least four or five times,” driven partly by fear of her father’s reaction.

Why are Gen Z individuals feeling guilty about spending money? (Source: AI Generated)

What’s really happening here?

According to Snehashish Das, a quantitative analyst and financial planning expert, guilt rarely comes from the spending itself. “It comes from ambiguity. When people do not know whether their financial foundations are strong, every discretionary expense feels like a potential mistake.”

Gen Z has grown up amid constant messaging about hustle culture, early investing, and wealth creation, often without clear guidance on sequencing. “So when they spend on a coffee, skincare, or a short trip, it clashes with an internal voice that says they should be doing more,” Das explains. “The guilt is essentially a signal of missing structure, not moral failure.”

Sneha Vashisht, senior psychotherapist and founder of Happidition, sees it differently. “Spending on small comforts offers immediate emotional relief.” Ordering food after a long workday briefly creates a sense of ease and control, life feels lighter and more manageable.

But that relief fades because larger pressures don’t change. Work demands remain high, rest remains limited, and the future feels uncertain. “When the comfort passes, guilt tends to surface, often later while checking one’s bank balance,” Vashisht explains. “The guilt is not only about money. It comes from the tension between wanting ease in the present and carrying concerns about responsibility, adequacy, and whether one is doing enough with life.”

When life rarely slows down and rest feels earned rather than allowed, money becomes the fastest way to feel okay momentarily. Over time, spending substitutes for rest, and guilt replaces relief.

The post-pandemic reframe

The last few years shaped spending patterns profoundly. Psychotherapist Neha Barik notes that many young adults lived through repeated disruption where their routines broke, plans changed suddenly, and stability felt temporary. “In such conditions, long-term planning can feel harder to rely on, while everyday demands naturally take up more mental and emotional space.”

Burnout compounds this. “Ongoing mental fatigue reduces the energy needed to pause, think through choices, or hold back,” Barik explains. “This is when spending quietly expands to include extra or unnecessary items, not out of carelessness, but because decision-making itself feels tiring.”

Late-night purchases are rarely planned, driven by fatigue and endless scrolling. “What appears impulsive is often a very human response to prolonged stress and depleted energy,” Vashisht adds.

The pandemic created uncertainty around life, career, and job security. In the Indian context, environmental changes and political instability amplify feelings of insecurity. “Essentially, when our nervous-system is on overload, the brain prioritises immediate relief over long-term planning,” Barik says. Emotional spending becomes quick self-regulation when rest, stability, and future security feel uncertain.

The Instagram effect

Social media quietly reshapes what feels normal. Vashisht describes how daily skincare routines involving multiple products are framed as “basic upkeep” without context. “When such routines are repeatedly presented as ‘standard,’ spending can begin to feel expected rather than a personal choice shaped by one’s comfort, budget, or even what their own body actually needs.”

People see polished moments without seeing trade-offs behind them. “This makes it easy to question one’s own choices, even when spending habits are reasonable,” Vashisht says. Over time, spending feels socially acceptable but emotionally stressful.

Barik calls it a “clean individual aesthetic” with curated, consumption-driven showcases of stability. “Constant consumption and doomscrolling has essentially led to smaller dopamine hits, which aid immediate relief but are not sustainable long term.” Many Gen Z individuals wonder if better gear or upgraded lifestyles will lead to stability, creating a distorted understanding of what growth actually looks like.

Das observes this behavioural shift clearly: Gen Z approaches money with far more immediacy than older generations who prioritised long-term assets. “Gen Z, by contrast, is far more comfortable allocating money to experiences, self-care, and daily conveniences.”

What stands out is not recklessness but fragmentation. “Many Gen Z earners save and spend simultaneously without a clear hierarchy. They may invest via apps, build emergency funds in theory, and still spend heavily on lifestyle.” The difference lies in intention: older generations saw saving as security. Gen Z sees spending as emotional regulation and quality of life.

Gen Z approaches money with far more immediacy than older generations who prioritised long-term assets. (Source: AI Generated)

The parental shadow

Correa’s father constantly repeats, “A rupee saved is a rupee earned,” and as the youth tells indianexpress.com, he has always been a “miser.” His mother, who worked at a bank, holds strong investment ideals. Both came from poor backgrounds and gave Correa a life they never had.

“This sometimes makes me feel guilty, especially when I was younger and would ask them for money.” When they ask about studying abroad, he shudders, not just at the financial burden, but the guilt of using their money.

Jain jokes that as the elder daughter, she has “a lifetime subscription to guilt and second-guessing.” Even when she can afford something, she questions: “Did I really need this? Did I buy it just to make myself feel better?”

Bhardwaj describes her parents’ attitudes as “strong influences, though I am trying to develop my own relationship with money in my independent right.”

Vashisht confirms these patterns are psychologically rooted. “Our relationship with money is shaped early, and it often carries a mix of guilt, fear, and responsibility.” In families where money was tight, children grow up anxious or overly responsible.

In comfortable families, money still comes with pressure or unspoken expectations. “In both cases, emotional messages about money are absorbed long before adulthood.”

A roadmap

Das is clear about young earners’ biggest blind spot: “not lifestyle spending, but the absence of buffers. Many young earners underestimate how quickly one disruption, such as a job change, health issue, or family responsibility, can derail cash flow.”

Another issue is delayed protection. Emergency funds, insurance, and retirement contributions feel abstract while spending decisions are concrete and emotionally rewarding. “Without early systems in place, even a good income can feel unstable, which amplifies guilt and stress.”

His solution?

Stop treating budgeting as a restriction and start treating it as permission. A workable framework has three layers: define non-negotiables (rent, essentials, insurance, basic emergency fund), automate savings and investments, and consciously allocate a lifestyle budget meant to be spent without guilt.

“When discretionary spending is planned rather than impulsive, it stops feeling irresponsible,” Das says. “Anxiety reduces when people know that enjoyment has a designated place in their financial plan, not when they eliminate enjoyment altogether.”

Vashisht suggests creating pauses – listing wants versus needs or leaving items in carts for a day. “These pauses are not about denial, but about giving the mind space to choose rather than react.”

While this piece explores why financial guilt persists among young adults today, in my upcoming piece I’ll turn to the flip side: financial paralysis among Indian Gen Z where young people know exactly what they should do with their money, yet remain stuck, unable to take even the most basic steps forward.

Disclaimer: This article is for informational purposes only and does not constitute financial or investment advice. Individual financial situations vary, and readers are advised to consult a qualified financial planner, advisor, or mental health professional before making financial decisions.