Okay, I’m not poor. I was raised in your typical American middle class household. My grandpa died when my mom and her siblings were very young, leaving my grandma to raise four kids alone. This being said, my mom was raised to work hard to make things happen for herself.
I suppose she passed on the work hard gene to me. She and my dad are both employed with commission-based salaries, a tough spot to be in in today’s economy. Therefore, the majority of their salaries go towards the bills and groceries. If I wanted anything extravagant, I had to wait until Christmas or go out and buy it myself with my own money. Don’t get me wrong; they did, and still do, so much for me that I wouldn’t be able to survive without.
As soon as I turned 16, I got a hostess job. Four years later, here I am, working two jobs to make it through school and, a lot of times, keep up with what everyone else is doing, whether it be the newest Michael Kors watch or attending concerts with my friends.
I don’t mind working. It keeps me busy, and it feels good to earn my own money. I pay for nearly everything I have, including rent. I’m not embarrassed by my upbringing. In fact, I’m thankful for being pushed to work hard and earn the things I have. As humbling as all of these things sound, sometimes it really sucks -- especially when the majority of your friends have never even come close to experiencing the things you have had to go through.
I would say a solid 75 percent of my friends are wealthy, or their parents are. Am I bitter? Not in the slightest. I know their families worked very hard to get to where they can provide their children with the things they need and want. But it’s rough at times.
For example, my friends complain about being on financial bad standing with our sorority because their dads forgot to pay their dues. I’m sitting awkwardly in silence, wondering how I’m even going to pay my dues this month. Or when I go shopping with them, and they casually buy two pairs of Tory Burch sandals with the swipe of a black American Express, I regret buying the bowl at Chipotle I had for lunch. Or they don’t even bat an eyelash at their $700 a month rent for the upcoming year, while I’m filling out any job application so I can get my hands on $300 a month for rent.
It’s hard to be around people who can handle things that you can't, financially. It’s hard having to say no to the Sam Hunt concert, or the Hibachi girl's night. Would I change any of it? Not at all. Being raised in the household I was raised in has forced me to go out and work hard and appreciate the things I have acquired over the years. It has taught me to be wary of my spending. Sure, sometimes I’ll splurge on a new Lilly dress, or go to Starbucks one too many times in a week. But, overall, I’d say that I am definitely more aware of my spending than other people who were raised differently.
Surviving the wealth gap has proved to be a challenge, at times. However, I know my friends love and support me, regardless of the clothes I wear or the car I drive. I know that they will never look down on me; rather, they boost my spirits and never make me feel lesser. I’m thankful and blessed for my upbringing and the amazing people I have met along the way.
