I grew up quite poor as my dad was a binman and my mum a stay at home parent (as were the mother of all my peers in those days). We lived in a new council house in what was initially a nice estate but my parents felt the niceness wouldn't last and my dad, recognising my mum's excellent money management skills, left the finances in her control. So they scrimped and saved a deposit for a house in a nicer area and bought a 'worst house on the best street' they could afford.
My mum never, ever made any bones about the fact that we weren't well off. We were told it and we accepted it. As we got older she'd let us see my dad's payslip, show us the taxes out, detail all our outgoings, show us what she saved, including an untouchable £2 a week for Christmas. We new how to make do and mend (my dad's job as a binman yielded many of our refreshed and treasured belongings) and we learned how to see through advertising branding and recognise real value. I was 7 when we moved into our house and I knew what a mortgage was and how the interest was calculated over the term. How much they'd borrowed, how much they'd have to pay back monthly and eventually. How it meant we now had less disposable income than before and how the 'new' house needed a lot of work which would take time and money.
I watched and joined in as my parents taught themselves to paint, plaster, plumb, basic electrical work, upholster, glaze etc. And every last money saving effort they'd make and could almost literally turn a sows ear into a silk purse, or at least a dumped horrible sofa and a pair of thick curtains from a charity shop into a brand new gorgeous sofa or a load of old planks and windows from a skip into beautiful built in units. We had no money to spare but we had everything we needed and most things we wanted thanks to their ingenuity, imagination and by being completely honest with us they weren't under any pressure to give us things they couldn't afford.
At 33 my dad became very ill with a rare condition that took many years to diagnose. In that time he was able to work less and less and his income was about a third of what it had been. My mum couldn't go out to work as she needed to care for my dad so she started childminding, which made up some of the shortfall. If we had still been in the council estate their rent would have been reduced, there was no such grace with a mortgage. (The had PPI but without a diagnosis they wouldn't pay out.) We went from managing poor to seriously struggling. My parents spent years unable to replace leaking shoes. Luckily I never had much of a teen growth spurt so I wore the exact same school uniform from 1st year to graduation, right down to the same two pairs of socks that I learned to darn because they were stupid brown socks that cost £13 a pair.
It wasn't the easiest of times and I can't say I didn't sometimes resent my wealthy friends (who I now recognise were just ordinary middle class but I thought were rich.) But my well-off best friend's mother died around the time my dad started getting ill and it was always glaringly obvious to me that family and health was worth a damn lot more than money. My dad was eventually diagnosed with a non-life-threatening condition that became reasonably manageable once diagnosed. It cost him his truck licenses and when a number of experimental surgeries failed, he was found unfit for work. He was on a pension by his late thirties the PPI company eventually had to pay off the mortgage, some year later.
So now my parents, while not wealthy are very comfortable. Because their wants are few and they know how to acquire raw materials and make pretty much anything they want. The effect it has had on me is that I strongly prioritise time with my family over money and know how to live extremely well on a tiny income. I also have a tendency to plan far ahead and play a very long-game financially which meant I bought my own house for cash at 35. This allows me to live very, very well on an income that is considered to be below the poverty line.