WHY MY EMERGENCY FUND NOW NEEDS ITS OWN EMERGENCY FUND
WHY MY EMERGENCY FUND NOW NEEDS ITS OWN EMERGENCY FUND
I always believed that having an emergency fund would make me feel like a responsible adult. Financial experts everywhere kept chanting the same gospel: “Save three to six months of expenses! Build a financial safety net! Protect your financial future!”
. Beautiful advice. Unfortunately, what they failed to mention was that life itself has a wicked sense of humor, and that my emergency fund would end up needing therapy, trauma counseling, and a backup emergency fund of its own.
The day I decided to create an emergency savings account, I felt powerful. I logged into my banking app like a financial superhero preparing to save the world. I sat up straight, wore imaginary glasses, and whispered, “Let’s build long-term wealth.” I felt like the CEO of Financial Stability Incorporated.
But reality had other plans.
Every time I put money into my emergency fund, life—like a jealous ex—would suddenly appear out of nowhere saying, “Oh, so you think you're doing well? Hold my coffee.”
I started the fund with confidence. I deposited my first contribution and felt like a responsible investor practicing solid financial planning. I even read articles on personal finance, risk management, inflation, and long-term savings strategies. I felt educated. I felt mature. I felt like someone who should have been invited to financial conferences to give speeches on wealth-building.
Then my house rent increased, my data subscription doubled mysteriously, and my shoe decided to break like it had been waiting for this moment since 2014.
Every time my account grew, life said, “Not on my watch.”
And that’s how my emergency fund slowly realized it needed extra support. Emotional support. Financial support. Structural support. A support group. Possibly even insurance coverage of its own.
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Imagine having an emergency fund that starts shaking whenever your phone rings. That’s mine. It flinches whenever I get a text message, because usually texts mean expenses, and expenses mean pain.
One time, I saved a decent amount—enough to make me feel like a wealthy person on a budget-friendly Netflix series. I checked the balance proudly. My emergency fund looked healthy. It was glowing. It was standing tall like a heavyweight champion of responsible adulting.
The very next day, my laptop charger exploded. Not died… exploded. It didn’t even have the courtesy to fail quietly. It sparked like it wanted to audition for an electrical fireworks show.
My emergency fund sighed deeply as if saying, “Again? Are we really doing this again?”
Of course, I used the money. I had to. That’s what emergency funds are for. But the emotional damage? Oh, the emotional damage was deeper than inflation.
I topped the fund up again a few weeks later. I felt proud again. I felt stable again. I felt like someone who could teach others about savings and financial discipline.
Then my phone screen cracked from simply existing.
Not dropped. Not stepped on.
Just existing.
I looked at the phone. The phone looked at me. And my emergency fund quietly began packing its bags and whispering, “I didn’t sign up for this.”
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At this point, I realized something painful: I do not have an emergency fund. I have a revolving door.
A financial roundabout.
A circular motion of deposits and withdrawals that would make a mathematician cry.
My emergency fund had become the definition of economic instability. I needed a backup plan. I needed a financial strategy. I needed a support system. I needed…
another emergency fund just to protect the first one.
A savings account to save the savings account.
A financial shock absorber to cushion the financial shock absorber.
Because clearly, life was not done testing my patience.
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One day I tried to do the responsible thing and calculate how much I would need if inflation continued rising. That single calculation aged me spiritually. By the time I finished crunching the numbers, I looked like someone who had fought three economic recessions, a housing market crash, and two global financial crises back-to-back.
According to the numbers, I needed an emergency fund, a supplementary emergency fund, a backup emergency fund, a mini emergency fund for minor heartbreaks, and a retirement plan strong enough to survive a meteor.
My calculator refused to help me. It shut down halfway. I think it was tired of my poor decisions.
---
My emergency fund also developed trust issues. Whenever I receive salary or income, and I try to deposit a portion into savings, the fund acts like a traumatized employee who has been through too many layoffs.
It whispers, “Are you sure this is for me? Or will I be gone by next week because your electricity bill suddenly multiplied like bacteria?”
And here’s the funniest part: personal finance advice makes everything sound so simple.
“Build an emergency fund.”
“Maintain liquidity.”
“Protect your cash flow.”
“Manage your expenses.”
Meanwhile, I’m here living in a world where toothpaste prices rise every Tuesday for no reason.
How do you maintain liquidity when the cost of living is dehydrating your wallet?
How do you protect your cash flow when your financial flow is a tiny drip from a broken tap?
My emergency fund is overworked, underpaid, emotionally exhausted, and definitely seeking other career opportunities.
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There was a particular month that broke both of us. I had been saving faithfully for weeks. My emergency fund balance was enough to make me smile like someone who finally understood wealth management.
Then—out of nowhere—my gas finished. My fan stopped rotating. My Wi-Fi started behaving like it needed deliverance. And of course, my wallet cried.
My emergency fund looked up at me with tired eyes. “Please,” it whispered, “I need some time off.”
I couldn’t blame it.
Even I needed time off from the chaos.
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I realized something crucial:
An emergency fund is not just money. It is spiritual warfare.
You don’t just save money.
You battle destiny.
You confront unexpected expenses.
You fight inflation, economic uncertainty, and financial trauma.
And the only weapon stronger than an emergency fund…
…is another emergency fund backing it up like a loyal bodyguard.
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So now I am officially building two emergency funds:
Emergency Fund A: For real emergencies, like medical bills, broken appliances, surprise expenses, or existential crises.
Emergency Fund B: For when Emergency Fund A gets tired, collapses, or resigns without notice.
Soon I might build an Emergency Fund C as emotional support for A and B.
At this rate, my savings structure will look like a family tree.
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The funniest part is that personal finance influencers online always look calm. They sit in their luxury offices with soft background music, smiling confidently as they say things like:
“Just automate your savings.”
“Just reduce spending.”
“Just stay disciplined.”
Meanwhile, I’m out here fighting battles they didn’t write chapters about. My emergency fund is fighting inflation, my income is fighting expenses, and I am fighting for my sanity.
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But despite all the madness—here’s the truth:
Having an emergency fund still saves you.
Even when life tries to empty it.
Even when expenses attack.
Even when you feel like giving up.
Because the alternative is having nothing when everything goes wrong.
That’s why my emergency fund needs its own emergency fund.
Because modern life is unpredictable, expensive, dramatic, stressful, and hilarious at the same time.
And honestly…
The comedy of it all keeps me going.
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