Growing Up Poor Is Better Than Growing Up Wealthy

I grew up poor — and I think I’m a happier person because of it.

Michelle Love


A couple of days ago I had a chat with a close friend of mine who grew up in a very wealthy family — the chat really left me thinking…

Both of us have sarcastic humor, and we tease and chirp at each other all the time. He will complain about something silly, and I will call him a spoiled brat, or a Westside rich kid (the people who grew up on the Westside of Vancouver, BC tended to be well off.

He’s also a white, handsome, male — so when he whines about not being able to decide where to go buy his dinner that night…it’s pretty fun to give him a hard time. What a tough life.

Photo by cottonbro studio:

He dishes it back and it's all fun and games, but our recent conversation got real. It began because he was complaining about something that I found to be so ridiculous — and I felt like it merited a more serious conversation because he clearly didn’t realize how privileged he was.

He was trying to relate to me, and although were in similar financial situations currently and individually, we got here completely differently — and I have no backup.

I grew up very poor. We were on welfare, I went without meals at times, we relied on the meat draw at the local legion for pricier meats, and we had to jump the fence to get into the local pool (pretty sure it was $1.25 to get in)…

I left home before I turned 16 to live on my own and fend for myself because my mom was a raging alcoholic, barely functioning, and the source of all my anxiety. I never met my biological father, but my stepdad was out of the house at this point, he too was an alcoholic, but more of a raging coke addict who took his anger out on my brother and me, physically, emotionally, verbally — at random intervals that were completely unpredictable.

What I find interesting is that someone like my friend, who grew up wealthy, with everything he could ask for — organic food, meals at the nicest restaurants, stable parents who were still married, trips to Disneyland, a condo in Cabo, a cabin in Lake Country, a Cabin on one of the gulf islands, etc was acting like more of a victim than me, at the age of 38, and a millionaire…with a…



Michelle Love

My public journal about all the things I’ve been through & I’m interested in—with the hope that it benefits you. 🤍 Love is the answer