“You were ashamed of us.”
The words sat there in the air between us, like some awkward hors d’oeuvres platter that no one wanted to touch.
The table went silent as a crypt.
I was trying to think of something to say in response, but she had caught me off guard. I wanted to say it wasn’t true… but it was true. And she knew I knew it was.
“I struggled with affluence in high school,” I admitted quietly while holding her gaze.
There was a deep pain rooted in her eyes, solitary and defiant as a towering Redwood, that I had to take responsibility for, because I was the one who had slashed that wound wide open so long ago. It was the best response I could muster. It was a way of accepting defeat without directly answering her statement. Like a prize fighter – a cheap shot probably deflecting the glancing blow. I should have just said, “yes,” but the word would have died in my throat.
It’s hard to accept the past when all you want to do is change it. She had just blurted the words out at dinner when I was asking questions about their income while growing up. I hadn’t expected her to be so direct.
Then my mother went in for the kill, and there was no way you could miss the strangled anguish in her voice.
“You thought we were poor.”
That did it.
Those five words cut me to the bone.
—
My parents don’t know I write this blog. No one in my family does. So, when I start asking questions about the past, it can rekindle some memories that we’d like to leave there.
If you have read any of my previous My Money Story posts, then you know that I was raised well by two hard working parents. I came from a blue-collar middle-class work ethic and there was never any room for privilege or arrogance for our station in life – you were respectable, responsible, accountable, humble and did what was right. That’s how I was taught to carry myself growing up in my house.
However, what I had not been prepared for as a teenager, was how to deal with affluence. I was comfortable around the normal social and income circles that I knew all too well. But I could never have imagined how I would react when I first came in contact with true wealth.
High School was this first opportunity.
And it’s interesting because this is probably one of the hardest posts for me to write, and that’s saying something since I don’t hold back when vetting hard-hitting personal topics like addiction. Losing the battle to drugs doesn’t really bother me though, it felt like a worthy opponent, I gave it my all and came up short. But this one is different. This one is just me locked inside my own head with no excuses. And I think it stings so bad because I still don’t really have an answer for myself. Why did I act in such an unacceptable way for a short period in my life? Where did that selfishness, arrogance and ignorance come from?
Because it sure as hell wasn’t my family.
However, this is the next chapter in my money story. One that I’m not proud of… but is necessary to tell.
—
When I was young, I struggled with affluence.
And there was no greater time than this for me in high school, yet I still don’t know the full why, because I was raised by humble, well-grounded parents in an environment that this shouldn’t have mattered in the least bit.
But it did… it mattered… it mattered to me a lot.
I think the roots of everything can be traced to the first time I had experienced “true wealth.” And what I mean by that is bumping elbows with that upper echelon of society, the rich that even the wealthy look up to with upturned noses and envious hollow eyes – those that live in a land of excess and grandeur few of us will ever understand nor comprehend.
My childhood understanding of “being well-off” was that you had a larger yard, nicer car and a 5 bed/3 bath home instead of a 3 bed/2 bath home. I was guilty of relative wealth ignorance.
I distinctly remember my “ah ha” moment as a freshman in high school.
We had caught a ride one night at the start of the school year to a new girl’s house in our recent group of friends – she lived in a prestigious private gated estate neighborhood nestled into the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains like heaven’s own crowned jewel of opulence. Since it was dark out you couldn’t really see how big the other properties were around you, but I had the feeling that I was crossing over some invisible barrier, entering a different world that I had never known existed before.
After stopping at the guarded gate and explaining who we were, we slowly wound our way up a curvy road, mansions dotting the expansive hillsides to either side of us like sparkling diamonds in the moonlight. When we finally made it to her driveway, perched atop this fairy land of hidden elites, it didn’t disappoint. It was one of those tree-lined perfectly manicured drives that seemed to stretch on forever, more a private lane than any kind of driveway I had ever seen before. Upon pulling up to the house – if it wasn’t already abundantly clear, Dorothy sure as fuck wasn’t in Kansas anymore – I was wondering if it was a hotel rather than a residence for only a single family to live.
I finally understood what the word “estate” entailed.
All of us kids were hanging out in the back, sipping on a bottle of 151 that might as well have been gasoline from the taste of it and getting high while the mom was in some far-off wing of the house not caring what we were doing. I think it’s safe to say, that when the back guest house is 3x the size of your normal residence, you’ve entered a different realm of existence. Hahaha… little did I know that the real surprise was yet to come.
We were all having a blast, laughing it up and basking in the newly found glow of friendship that flows so freely when alcohol and drugs are involved. And the backyard was gorgeous… probably five acres (that might not seem like a large area in other parts of the US, but in LA it is) of pristinely cut grass, landscaping, infinity pool, gazebo, the works… I felt like I was on vacation rather than living what was to become a normal circle of friends over the next four years.
Suddenly, in a moment of muted silence between our drunken and drugged shenanigans, I heard a loud noise that sounded like animals in the distance.
I turned to the girl whose house it was and asked innocently, “What was that?”
“The horses,” she replied as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
“What do you mean?” I asked again, not understanding.
She smiled at me beautifully, finally comprehending my bafflement. “Hold on a sec,” she said turning and heading back up the pathway to the main house. “I’ll show you,” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the night.
30 seconds later she came back beaming at me. “Wait a moment, it takes a little time for the lights to warm up,” and she pointed to a black expanse of darkness that began where the current yard ended.
She lit a joint and passed it to me while we puffed and stared off into the void expectantly.
I had naively assumed that the area she had pointed to was the beginning of the neighboring yard behind her house, but all of a sudden, the darkness leapt to life like a supernova as large flood lights kicked into gear and illuminated another 10 acres of open fields with horses and stables, stretching out to the horizon as far as the eye could see.
“Those horses,” she winked at me and started laughing, while my mouth dropped open in awe.
Where was I?
Who were these people that had so much?
Is this real?
—
And that was how it went. That was my introduction to a class of kids at my wealthy private high school (how my parents afforded it on low incomes will be a separate post someday) that lived by a different set of rules than I had grown up with.
These kids were getting brand new Mercedes and Beamers when they turned sixteen while I got the opportunity to drive a 10-year-old beat up Ford Aerostar van that I had to sneak away from my sister. It’s sad to admit it, but I didn’t feel like I belonged. I felt like they were better than me.
And that’s my fault, because I could have owned it, I could have made that beat-up van cool, but that wasn’t who I was at that time. I was still fragile and confused and didn’t possess the confidence and skill set to make it happen. Instead, I rarely drove it unless I was alone.
For the first time in my life, I realized all that I didn’t have, versus all that I had.
And not having these things, affected me immensely.
I felt small, insecure and insignificant. I was a stranger in this rich new world and knew that I came from the other side of the tracks. I didn’t fit in. (I say this relatively, my family was by no means poor, all our basic needs were taken care of. However, by comparison to the other families at my school, we might as well have been living below the poverty line.)
And what this did was breed resentment toward my family – my parents to be exact. I was mad at them because they weren’t doctors or lawyers, why did my mom stay at home raising us instead of pursuing a high income and respectable job?
It’s pathetic to type this. But somehow that’s what I thought during my first year of high school. Seeing myself surrounded by all this wealth as a 15-year-old kid changed me.
I wanted it, I desired it. I was envious, jealous and embarrassed that I didn’t have more to show for.
And I think my parents could sense this. And that hurts the most.
But there’s also a second part. A child/parent relationship is complicated, filled with complex feelings and emotions, regrets and mistakes, failures and disappointment.
My parents ran a clean ship. You couldn’t drink and get high there, so I was rarely home. They took this as I was ashamed of them, but it was more about my friends and I couldn’t party there, so we hung out at houses where we could do what we want, unbothered by parents.
What high school kid wants to sit around and be sober? Hahaha… maybe that wasn’t true for most of you. But it sure as fuck was for me.
As I mention in one of my previous posts on addiction… all I wanted to do back then was live fast and die young.
And drugs probably changed me the most. I was going through this rebellious transition, and to be frank, I was lost. I was a lost kid trying to find my way and addiction sure as hell didn’t help me.
And who knows, maybe drugs were a way to even the playing field, when we were using, we were equals, background and money didn’t matter?
I don’t have the answer for that.
But what I do know, is that for a short time I saw money as success… not love, not family, not a caring and supportive environment. What you owned determined who you were. It’s sad to say, but that’s what I thought. All that I could see was everything that I didn’t have versus everything that I did. Because things (meaning physical objects of wealth) mattered… pointless things. Because that’s how you kept score. And winning the game was everything. That’s why you breathe… that’s why you’re alive. There’s one end-goal: to win. And winning means… he who has the biggest kingdom at the end, prevails.
After my first rehab, I began to change and was much more grounded my senior year. My parents had done all the right things, but it took me some time before I put my adolescent years behind me and grew up.
We all have our own struggles.
Just because you have wealth, doesn’t save you from any travesties in life. We all must play out the individual hand that we are dealt…
The girl’s house I told you about above… well, she didn’t live any fairy tale life by any means. Sure, she had many advantages, privilege beyond comparison and no wants for material desire. And I’m proud to report that she’s extremely successful in what she does today – excessive wealth didn’t ruin her entirely. But when she was in the sixth grade, her father committed suicide. He decided to put a shot gun in his mouth and pull the trigger in the upstairs bathroom.
And that young girl with the beautiful smile, was the first one to find him.
I envied that girl for a long time until I found out the truth about her father’s death in one late night heart to heart. She only had her one distant, alcoholic mom left while I still had two loving parents to come home to.
I didn’t envy her anymore… and never thought about affluence the same.
-Q-FI
—
P.S. Ever get blinded by wealth or affluence during your life and act in a childish way?
good one, q, and very relatable. i would say i grew up in a family just like yours. blue collar with work ethic and strong values. the big difference is you could draw a 25 mile radius circle with my house at the center and not find real affluence. we were all in the same low to middle income boat. i’m glad i didn’t experience that difference until college. i transferred from a large public university to one of those small high end liberal arts schools in the northeast. i had never known anyone from those elite prep schools and it was like being in a foreign country! some were ok and others were more along the lines of the stereotype of that privilege. it was a horrible cultural fit for me and there was even too much of that on the track and cross country teams for me to tolerate.
i’ve always gravitated towards more “self-made” friends who had to DIY life and figure it out for themselves. i was surely welcomed by most of the others but chose the regular types the past 30 years. i’ll agree that “who wants to sit around sober during high school years?” tru dat.
Yes, reading your material Freddy I think our backgrounds were pretty similar, just opposite coasts. You sum it up well, my first experience with wealth was as you say “like being in a foreign country.” Just a different world, and again as you say, “some were ok and others were more along the lines of the stereotype of privilege.” It wasn’t the right cultural fit for me as well, but I still made some good friends for that time in my life. On the outside I was confident, athletic and popular, but on the inside I was a lost struggling soul. However, I also learned during those early years that seeking massive wealth would never be my goal.
And I think we are EXTREMELY similar in high school will always be a little better when high…. hahaha… tru dat right back at you!
I had an extremely similar story growing up. My parents were successful, hard-working mid-level corporate folks and I had a very nice home life and would consider it “upper middle class.” Like you I was fortunate to go to a very exclusive private high school as a result of financial sacrifices from my parents, but this where I 1st saw “massive wealth.” I went to school with the Gettys, kids of big-time movie stars & directors and partied with my pals at Michael Jackson’s estate before my buddy’s dad sold it to Wacko Jacko.
My experience was a bit different in that by being around all this, it kind of normalized it for me, meaning I never was awed, it just was. It helped that none them had any pretense or thought or acted better than anyone else. Like you say, we were all equalized simply by being teenagers who wanted to have fun and party. My learning experience was that folks with “massive wealth” were far more humble, authentic and real. And material shit just doesn’t matter – one can party and have fun at my folks 2600 s/f track home just as well as you dad’s 2000 s/f wine cellar on the estate – and we did.
Hanging w/ the Gettys, partying in 2000 s/f wine cellars and at Michael Jackson’s estate Mr. Fate. You did live the rock star life! Hahaha. LA at its finest!
It’s always fascinating to see how people react or kids cope with seeing people having so much more than them. That’s interesting that I struggled more with it and it was “normalized” for you. I also had some other middle-class friends that were more like you, it didn’t affect them in the same way at all. And it sounds you found a good group of people that were humble and real. I was in a mix with the bad and the good
Great comment Mr Fate.
Wow, that was a lot.
“We all have our own struggles.” Not much else to say other than to re-emphasize that, and glad to hear that the girl is successful today. Great post.
-31
Thanks for reading “31” and glad you enjoyed it or at least got something out of it. Always great to have you along for this wild blogging ride…
I enjoyed reading this.
The only time I’ve ever come across extreme wealth like this was when I was a struggling single parent selling and delivering thermomixes a few years ao.
Some of those kitchens and dining rooms are HUGE!
But I think that in Australia there isn’t as much of a wealth divide as in the States. The extremely wealthy aren’t as numerous.
I’m glad you enjoyed it and thanks for commenting Frogdancer Jones. I love getting any kind of international perspective. I take it you’re in Australia then. Yes, large wealth gaps here in the US, although I think it really matters by location. Like Freddy mentioned above, you can be in most areas and not even be around “massive” wealth. Growing up in Los Angeles, I just happened to be in one of the meccas that loves to flaunt the material at every chance. Hollywood has to play its games and shine.
Interesting that you say Australia doesn’t have quite as much of a wealth divide – I think that’s a good thing. Thanks for sharing your perspective.
My parents were middle class but college educated, though later in life they became millionaires next door by wise investing and frugal spending. I never even had a sip of alcohol until I turned 21, never wanted one. I was proud of my folks and they were usually proud of me. Lots of middle class people had horses, they were fairly affordable pets in Arkansas. We rode all the time and I gained an intense dislike of the big dumb beasts that I retain still today, along with some scars. It seems like a totally different youth from yours. But at least we both survived, and some of my mates and some of yours didn’t.
Yeah – we definitely had opposite youths Steveark but that’s why I like hearing your take on things so much. You offer up good balance and wisdom that I enjoy hearing.
I think that’s also great you never had any desire to drink until 21. That’s more rare in my social circles, but I would hope that is a trend that can some day be the majority for the youth of tomorrow growing up in the US.
That’s funny about the horses Steveark. So in LA, you don’t have to be that wealthy to ride horses. But to own many and have a 15 acre plot of land in a compacted dense city with always high demand, you’re not the normal well-off family, there’s some serious generational wealth going on.
And you end with the most important point, yes, we have both survived. And here’s to hoping we will both have many more fun and entertaining adventures to come!
Thanks for the comment Steveark!
My background was lower middle class surround by people in poverty. The first real exposure to wealth was college, and it quickly went to the extreme. In high school the wealthiest people I knew were children of doctors or farmers. Relatively poor compared to the extreme wealth.
In college I had a roommate who didn’t think twice about regular lunch at Ruth Chris steak house. I did some volunteer work as a coach at a high school where kids drove new high end sports cars. These were a real eye opener to what was possible. At the time I really wanted what they had like you said. But as the years have gone by I’ve realized that I just want enough to not need to worry about cash, and then the rest of life becomes the focus.
Thanks for sharing your background FTF. It’s always interesting to learn how different bloggers have grown up and what conditions initially shaped their thoughts. I relate to what you said about as the years go by we realize we want different things.
Having enough in way becomes enough. Like you, the important things that have shifted in a more weathered life become the focus and inspiration.
I can relate to you about feeling like you don’t fit in. That might be normal growing up thing, but when wealth is the not fitting in part, I can imagine how much more amplified the feeling can be. I grew up in a middle class household. My mom worked part time and my father full. I was never really around any wealth at all growing up. The sort of “wealth” that I saw growing up were people who owned really nice cars and maybe had some fancy jewelry and took lavish vacations. Nothing like the real wealth you mention, more like street wealth acquired for short periods of time between prison. So it didn’t really impact me too much. Even back then I sort of knew that wealth was short term.
I deal with rich people all the time, but its mostly been in professional settings. Now that I think about it, it probably wasn’t till last summer that I really went to an ultra wealthy person’s house and interacted with them on a daily basis. They were nice folk, but I could see right through the wealth–not to say it wasn’t impressive. I think if I were younger their wealth might have affected me more. What I took away from that experience was that old cliche: money does not make you happy. It isn’t worth it if you are going to be so miserable over the tiniest inconveniences that normal people don’t think twice about.
Very true Noel, we’ll all have a time growing up when we feel like an outsider. And it’s not the money that will make you happy, but most of us have to learn that the hard way. Thanks for sharing your experience and I’m glad wealth (super, massive, whatever the fuck we want to call it) didn’t really affect your life that much. The ephemeral nature of street wealth, is always interesting as well like you mention. You probably have some good stories on that one that hopefully we’ll get to share some day sipping NA beer and clinking mocktails in FI nirvana. Hahaha.
Thanks for the comment bud and taking the time to read.
Seems like a lot of personal finance bloggers come from a similar background of hardworking parents, genuinely middle class or lower but exposed and envious of affluence. I know that describes me pretty well. Powerful story.
I don’t know why, but I was actually a little surprised by this IF. It does seem most of us have a similar background. For some reason I was expecting it to be a little more diverse. Then again, people are usually attracted to reading similar experiences and its hard to classify the low, middle and upper middle class spectrum. I think I was reading a study that was saying most people that would be considered rich by median income, still consider themselves upper-middle class because there is always a level above ourselves to compare to. I found it interesting. I guess it depends on everything in life, where you stand determines your perspective.
Thanks for the brave post. I’m a relative newcomer to your blog but already loving the brutal honesty.
I was defn in the camp of not having a lot of monetary wealth around me growing up and it does open your eyes wide the first time you experience it. When you see how different lives can be to your own.
I’m from a small village in the UK and it was very rural, very traditional path of the work hard/marry/kids variety. My parents lived through the times of the very different class system. Only rich kids went on to any kind of further school back then. I was lucky in being the first to escape, gaining a spot at university (college to you guys 😉 ) That really opened my eyes to the world.
For me, the starkest lesson was less about the wealth but about the confidence/attitude it gave rich people. When going for interviews later, I’d usually feel like I had more in common with the catering staff than anyone else there!
It took me a while to figure out my own path but like you and everyone else, you do eventually. Mine led me to pulling the FIRE trigger a couple years back now @ 43. I still love reading about others who don’t just accept the path they are given. I’m looking forwards to reading more of your blog already. Thank you.
Well Michelle, thank you for the compliment and reading. I love interacting with new folks – especially getting a different country perspective. I was perusing a comment section of Indeedably’s not too long ago, and it was all about private schools vs public schools for kids growing up in London. I found it fascinating. It’s really interesting how wealth gaps are perceived in different countries. Plus, I’m watching the Crown right now, so anything do with England is of great interest to me… hahaha.
From the comments so far, I’ve found this particular topic very intriguing. I wasn’t expecting too many people to comment, but I’ve underestimated how we each have our own experience with wealth growing up. At some point, you can’t help being exposed to the super wealthy and having your own feelings/experience about it.
Thanks for chiming in and sharing your own experience. But most importantly, congratulations on living the FI life! I can’t wait to pull my own trigger some day. You are living the dream. Relatively, that is… we all have to determine which individual stars we want to pull down from the sky for ourselves. =)
Looking forward to interacting with you in the future.
Ha, yeah, the UK defn has it’s own brand of crazy…usually far better to watch from a distance!
Yup, FIRE is awesome but it’s not a magic bullet (or star catcher). You still gotta make your life work for you. That surprises a lot of people I think, especially if you focus on the numbers side.
Likewise, until next time.
Being exposed to that kind of money when clearly not part of it really screws up the other relationships in your life. It’s too easy to be envious of their lifestyle of the rich person. Whether intentional or not, their presence sows discord among the middle class. People compete for the attention of the rich person. It’s dangerous to attend school far above or below one’s class. At that age, you don’t yet understand the very rich and the very poor have more in common with each other than the middle class. The middle class are a delicate, lone, dying breed. I believe my life and friendships would’ve been better if I’d never met a very close friend of six years in middle school. Her family had two foundations, wealth into the nine figures, took us on vacations and generally let us run amok with very little supervision. Best times of my life, but she’s long gone and my other relationships still suffer from it. It’s not worth getting close to the ultra-rich in the long run. It’s a fun ride but then you get discarded like a toy.
You have an interesting perspective here Wallies and thank you for sharing.
I think the exposure and reaction to the super wealthy depends on the individual. Based on my upbringing, I should not have reacted the way I did. I had similar friends that weren’t as affected and like Mr. Fate commented, that kind of wealth was more “normalized” for them. So it’s a hard nut to crack.
I would also propose, that if you say you had some of the best times of your life with your wealthy friend, dwell on the positives you shared together. Try to let go of the negative. A lot of our relationships are determined how we project and feel about ourselves. I’m sorry you feel that the exposure to this friend and her family was a negative on your life and still affects your relationships. I hope you can heal from it some day and move on.
But you make a valid point, that it is easier said than done, to not be envious of these different lifestyles.
Another powerful and brutally honest story, QFi! Thank you. I think I’d like to share this one with my young impressionable niece, who I believe is much like we were at this age. I have a similar story, though it doesn’t take place in LA, but I guess it goes to show how timeless and location-independent this story is. Your story continues to fascinate and amaze me.
Yes, share away!
And hey, nothing fascinating here. Just a bunch of random and bizarre life events that I try to string together and make some sense of. Hahahaha.
You’re spot on – we all have our own stories of interacting with wealth that are timeless and location-independent. For some reason, I wasn’t expecting this to resonate as much as it has with people. I don’t know why. But it makes a lot of sense now reading the comments and rethinking things. I’ll have to further explore this topic at some point in the future.
Thanks as always for reading and commenting Miss Camel!