Mother Who Money Can Buy Happiness

Who we become as adults is molded from our experiences as children. Those from nourishing homes tend to thrive. Those from broken homes tend to be broken themselves. Those from struggling homes tend to want their family to stop struggling. That last case is evident with me. I think watching my parents live paycheck to paycheck has made me who I am today, prepared me for what I want to do, and made me do what I have done.

As a child, I never realized the obstacles my family went through and why they wanted me to be the best student at the school. My parents tried their best in sheltering me from the truth but I always knew we were struggling financially. Growing up, I witnessed my parents struggle to find jobs and a stable house

Growing up, money was never a huge issue to my family, not to say I was spoiled, but I was definitely privileged. I grew up in Fairfield County, Connecticut, went to private schools my entire life, had a stay at home Mom and a hard working Dad. I believed this was how it was always going to be, until my freshman year of high school. My parents started to fight a lot, especially late at night as I would lie in my bed feeling my families happiness slip away. My parents decided it would be best for the family to get a divorce. I believe this was the beginning of my passion for finance, not because of the constant yelling and screaming that led to the divorce, but the result of the separation. My Mom met my Dad in college and thought she would spend the rest of her life with him and foolishly dropped out of college to follow

At 15, Link began to distance himself from both me and his dad. He would come right home from

I concluded that I was not afraid of my dad, the influence of my mother made me afraid of my dad. Talking with my dad about this is something hard for both of us because on some level I am responsible. Although he does not hold me accountable, has a right to. When my dad and I first had this conversation it was hard for me to wrap my head around it. My whole life I had believed I was abused. I was one of those children. He explained it to me in ways only an adult would understand which is why I believe he waited so long to approach this conversation. He waited until I was more mature to handle

Growing up, I was raised to believe I was not poor, but the reality was my mother and father could barely make ends meet. My father ended up working full time while my mother stayed at home and raised me, and eventually my four other brothers who were born later. The financial stress and my mother’s depression and apathy combined to create an incredibly toxic relationship between my parents, and although they got married for financial purposes when I was five, they both did not want to be together. Their abusive, toxic interactions towards each other and their children subjected all of us children to an incredibly unhealthy home environment.

For some reason I verbally took out my anger on him, he also saw his father turn

my mother was a housewife, and my father was an asphalt paver and sort of a jack of all trades. Dad raced demolition derby cars on the side while mom took care of my brothers, sister and I. Mom and dad did their best to always provide us with food, clothes and open doors to opurtunities, but they always seemed to exspect greatness out of us. I suppose if I had a child I would try and give them everything they needed to climb the perverbial ladder to prosperity. I however couldnt have landed farther away from my parents advantageious tree and landed myself in an abusive marrige.

At the time, my sister, Marsha, and I wanted to live in the small town we grew-up in; therefore, we resided with my Dad for several years. We were teenagers by then and realistically needed a great deal of discipline; unfortunately, for us, with Dad’s party side and being divorced, he remained gone the majority of the time. Unsupervised, like various other teens, we appeared at times unruly. Nearly all my relatives and the majority of the town looked on disapprovingly.

If you're wondering why I would think my dad is going to hurt me, it's honestly because of his temper. He has a really bad temper and he's gotten, well, violent, but he's never physically hurt me. Mentally, yes. Physically, no.

Hetty Green exemplified the saying “Money can't buy happiness.” Hetty amassed a fortune throughout her lifetime, and was touted as the richest woman in the world at the time of her death in 1916. In a business environment built by and for men, Hetty was a notable player in the world of finance. But, Hetty died a poor soul in other respects. It was her avarice and stinginess that she left as her legacy - along with the moniker,“The Witch of Wall Street.”

His father was moody and very irritable and wasn’t a strong figure in the household

Not only did your parent financial status allow for opportunity, but their way of parenting was an instrumental socialization agent too. Although your family was economically stable, not everything was given to you. Your parents made you work and held you accountable. Whenever you were out of line, your dad was never having it, as you probably can recall. Even though both your sisters and you knew he loved you guys very much, you all knew to behave especially when Dad was around. In addition, from the beginning, both your parents taught you strong Midwest values. Although you didn’t always stick to them, manners, honesty, hard work, and being on time were pounded into your head since you could talk.

I noticed how my mother was affected by my brother’s actions, which seemed to replicate my father’s words. She was already tired after working all day to support my family on a teacher’s salary. When she came home, she would have to deal with the consequences of my brother’s failing grades, arguments he has with teachers, and fights he had with students. Then she would have to talk to my dad, who always seemed to be in trouble at work for saying something else he shouldn't have. Watching the sacrifices she made to keep our family afloat. I began to resent my father, blaming him for my brother’s behavior and angry at how he couldn’t keep a job.

You see, my father never really cared about me. I know that’s like the stereotypical thing every teenager says, but when I say this I do mean it.