This is an American Dream story, a story of overcoming addiction, social class, and limiting beliefs.
My 29 year old son is, in fact, collecting billionaires, but before I get to the specifics of that amazing phenomenon, I want to back up a bit.
My mother, daughter of a narcissistic alcoholic, dropped out of high school to marry my father, who, the son of an alcoholic, was already an alcoholic at seventeen. My older sister followed in my mother’s tracks by dropping out of high school and getting married at seventeen. She was pregnant. That marriage lasted about a year and then she got pregnant by another man and bore his son, all this before she was twenty.
No one in my family was artistic, though my dad was a singer. No one travelled or read books or talked about politics. Most of my family probably did not even vote; I know my mother and father didn’t.
I grew up with a lot of examples of how I did not want to be. It would have been easy to become a statistic and fulfill the default outcome of addiction and lack of self confidence. All I had to do was pick up my feet, so to speak, and go with the flow of the river of addiction in my body.
I knew if I did not want to repeat the past, I needed to start swimming early to get out of the strong current that wanted to take me down with all my other alcoholic aunts, uncles, and cousins
My mother’s love, public school, and my brain wiring saved me from repeating the cycle of addiction and domestic violence. I was a good student and hung out with good students who were headed to college. I made a vow that I would graduate from high school, go to college, and be able to support myself, so I would never have to stay with a man who drank, slept with other women, and beat me
Breaking the Cycle
I broke the cycle of addiction in my family when I began my recovery as an Adult child of an Alcoholic in my early thirties.
When I was twenty six I married the son of a missionary with a huge extended family. My first priority was to marry a man who would make a great father, someone my children could count on to support them, love them, and never, ever be violent with them. I was hugely successful.
Along came my two children, a girl and then a boy. Both of them have done very well and are living meaningful, productive lives full of love. They are hard workers, and both excel in their professions.
Middle School
But there were some rough times. When the father of my children and I divorced, my son was in middle school. I lost my central vision about that same time, and both of my children suffered. My son did not do well in school, getting sent to the Problem Solving room frequently for not doing his work or for laughing when he and his friends were scolded.
His school counselor told him he was an underachiever, and he tried to use this with me as an excuse once
“Who said you are an underachiever” I asked incredulously? Who would do such a thing? When he told me his school counselor had given him this pronouncement, I replied with a mild swear word and told him he was no such thing. What a stupid belief to plant in a twelve year old boy’s brain!
We survived middle school and when my son got into high school and band, he started getting straight A’s. He won a tuba scholarship, went off to college and graduated with a Ph. D in computer science, cryptography version.
He was hired as an intern and then as an engineer at Google. He is now a manager and will be spending three weeks in India in January to help the Google engineers there stay connected with the flagship in Mountain View, California where he works along with about two thousand others. Worldwide, Google has twenty thousand employees.
He lives in San Francisco with friends who have all graduated from Stanford or Harvard. The colleges he attended, while excellent, do not carry the weight of a Stanford or Harvard.
While in college my son started playing Ultimate Frisbee. His team went to nationals and he has been playing ever since. He met his roommates through Ultimate.
Where Do the Billionaires Come In?
One of the founders of Google plays Ultimate, and has played with the Google inter-mural team. My son broke his hand recently, and this billionaire asked someone how my son was doing. The first billionaire who knows my son’s name. Very cool!
Then, a few weeks ago, my son was visiting his girlfriend, also a Stanford graduate, who is now getting her MBA at Yale. While there, they met up with one of his roommates, whose father happens to be a billionaire or close. He got to go to their penthouse apartment with its view of Central Park and decorated with original art, of course.
Then they went out to dinner with another billionaire, the founder of Facebook, then on to a nightclub. A professional basketball star recognized the Facebook founder and came up to shake hands. My son had to explain to Facebook founder the identity of the sports icon. Hang out in this moment for a bit. Is this cool or what?
What Does This Have to Do With You?
Look where I started and where my son is. We both had a lot of support, but we both have worked hard to overcome the odds. My son had no connections which might have helped him get into a famous school, but he still got a job at Google and is doing very well indeed.
He had a night on the town in New York City most of us will only be able to dream about. He spent the next night in his girlfriend’s basement apartment eating macaroni and cheese in the shape of Toy Story characters and enjoyed it just as much — well, maybe not quite as much, but you get my point.
He is grounded and grateful and a hard worker and smart and creative. He is not even thirty and he has met at least two more billionaires than I have. And it didn’t go to his head. It was fun and cool and an interesting experience, but so is every day of his life.
No matter who you are, no matter what you were born into, transformation is always possible. We all need to step up, lean in, let go of our excuses and commit to staying in the game. If my son chooses to have children, they will have to overcome being raised in affluence and with connections. Some people thrive in this setting, but many do not. In fact, I can’t wait to talk with my son’s roommate whose family owns a penthouse in NYC and a private jet. How did he turn out so unaffected? He asks his Ultimate friends to take off their shoes when they come over for a meeting to protect the light carpet. He is no spoiled brat.
We get to make it up anew every day we wake up. We can choose to change the stories we live in if they do not serve us. So what if your father didn’t love you? How long are you going to cry before you let go and dance?
Blessings,
Vicki