I'm currently taking a network administration class, and on the first day, my professor was walking us through everything we'd be learning that semester. At some point he mentioned that one of the things we'd be doing was building apps using a tool called Antigravity, and as he was talking through all the possibilities, he casually mentioned that he had built one himself. His app generates stock photos, AI models, and branded imagery for retail and fashion companies, so they don't have to hire photographers or book models for every campaign. He built it to serve other businesses, and it was bringing in over $15,000 a month.
I asked to speak with him after class. At the time, I had been seriously thinking about getting into the luxury vintage resale business. I'd been watching people travel on TikTok to Japan and come back with authentic designer handbags at prices you couldn't find anywhere else, and I thought there was something real there. Fashion has always been a part of my life. A few years ago I had a clothing store called GIVEMEPLUR, where I sold rave and festival wear, but I eventually closed it down when my heart stopped being in it. I still loved the culture, I just wanted to enjoy it as an attendee instead of working it. The vintage resale idea felt like a way to stay connected to something I loved without the parts that had burned me out before.
He didn't take long to shoot it down. He said it was a hard market to break into, a steep learning curve, and a real financial risk, and that if I didn't have the stomach or the pockets for potential loss, it probably wasn't worth pursuing. Then he said something that stuck with me: instead of digging for gold, sell the tools. His point was that business-to-consumer usually requires a much larger customer base to be profitable, while selling to other businesses can generate serious revenue with far fewer clients and a fraction of the overhead. He pulled up his app and walked me through how it worked, and it was genuinely hard to argue with.
I went home fully intending to take his advice. I spent hours brainstorming ideas for business-facing tools, but nothing was sticking. Every concept felt like something I'd be doing purely for the money, disconnected from anything I actually cared about, and I couldn't get excited about any of it no matter how long I sat with it.
So eventually I just gave up on brainstorming and did something I actually needed to do: update my Excel spreadsheet. That's when it clicked.
I had been using that spreadsheet for almost six years, not because I loved maintaining it, but because nothing else had worked for me. I'd tried Monarch, Origin, and a few others, and every single one lost me within the first few minutes of onboarding. My financial situation is complicated. My income isn't consistent, my expenses shift constantly, and over the years I had built a very specific system for keeping track of all of it. The spreadsheet was the only thing flexible enough to hold everything, even if the formulas broke constantly and setting it up every month took way more time than it should have. It was a lot to manage, but it was mine, and I understood it.
That was the problem I had been living with for six years. And that night, I finally saw it clearly enough to do something about it. I knew immediately that I had something, and went to work.
Once I started thinking about my budget as something worth rebuilding, I realized how fragmented my money tracking had become. Travel expenses lived in one app. Loans and money owed to friends lived in my head or in notes. Upcoming bills were scattered across reminders and bank alerts. None of it talked to each other, even though all of it affected how I spent and planned.
Over time, it became clear that what I actually wanted wasn't a stricter system, it was a more honest one. I wanted to track my money in a way that reflected real life, not an ideal version of it. That meant tracking everything: everyday spending, upcoming bills, money I owed, money I loaned out, and even the cost of preparing for things like travel.
So many apps treat these as edge cases or separate tools. Travel gets its own app. Loans become awkward notes in your phone. I wanted one place where all of it could live, because all of it affects how we actually spend and feel about money.
Building From My Perspective
I also couldn't ignore how disconnected most budgeting apps feel from my lived experience. Fintech is overwhelmingly built and owned by men, and often assumes a very narrow relationship with money. I wanted to build something more intuitive, flexible, and non-punitive, something that reflects how I, as a Black woman, actually interact with money. That perspective shapes everything I'm building.
Tracking First. Budgeting Second.
Over the years, I've realized that even though I set a budget every month, I don't really follow it in the traditional sense. If I wanted an outfit or decided to go to a concert, I'd adjust the numbers and move money around to make it work. At first, budgeting was the goal, but over time, tracking became the real motivation.
I like knowing exactly where my money is going, who I owe, what bills are coming up, and how much I've saved. That visibility is what makes me feel in control. Even when I go over budget, it doesn't feel like failure, because I did it intentionally. That's the difference.
This is the mindset that WellSpnt is being built around.
If this resonated, you might also want to read There Were Months I Just Didn't Look, where I get into what actually happens when you stop tracking and why awareness matters more than discipline.
