I grew up very sheltered. We were far from rich but just as far from poor. Comfortable would be the pigeon-hole we would be shoved into. Upper-middle class, probably just barely.
I had what I needed and almost always got what I wanted. Either by earning or saving. I was never lacking but I wasn’t spoiled either.
When we would take family road trips, I was always shocked at how “the other half” lived…on both sides of the “other half”.
It didn’t matter though. I was safe. I had. I never really wanted. Life was fairly easy.
I assumed it would always remain that way. Why wouldn’t it? I figured I would go from the safety of my fathers home to the safety of my own home.
But life? It had other ideas for me. Or I just chose the road harder travelled.
It isn’t easy.
It hasn’t been since the day I left my parents house. And it gets harder every single day. The obstacles are becoming insurmountable mountains, leaving me gasping to catch my breath at each pinnacle.
I feel like everything I ever knew and felt were facades.
Enjoy being young because when you grow up, all sorts of carpets are going to be yanked out from underneath you and you are going to have to keep trying to catch your balance.
Good luck kid.
I want my kids to feel the same sort of security I knew growing up but I don’t want them to just assume it will continue forever.
I don’t want them to ever feel the same sort of panic I feel, all the time.
I want them to know that they have to make their own security, that their choices need to be accounted for.
I want them to realize that life really isn’t easy, even for those it looks easy for.
I don’t want to scare them.
What is the happy medium though?