No shame or blame here, I brought it on myself to some extent, and to some extent it was a confluence of events outside my control. If I have to muddle on through just as I am in the very first house I ever bought with ten year old cars, I’m actually OK with that. I’d rather not, though. Money can’t buy happiness, that’s true, but no money doesn’t buy anything at all.
The shame and blame can rumble on in the background. It’s an expected part of world think. People have other terms for it such as the one you used, “psychological scarring.” But suppose God declared that this didn’t matter anymore? That you had the rights, claimed by faith in Him, for a chutzpah that would astonish the world? Where the only apology you’d owe would be for having been too timid?