As a runaway, I have lived in children’s forts in the woods, long abandoned empty trailers, condos under construction, condemned apartment buildings with kind poor families (more than one to a bed), with rapist drug dealers, a pimp, etc…
Just before that, I lived with my my newly divorced father, who thought it was my responsibility to actively find him someone to have sex with. It didn’t take him long to allow himself to consider me as that person. Thanks to porno magazines (who clearly said it was acceptable), I ran away from home from the age of 12-17.
When I was married, I lived in a rural farmhouse/shack (truly) before I reached the age when my small trust fund was given, and then I bought us our first of two homes over 8 years.
After my husband left me for Sherri (and I’m grateful everyday that she got stuck with him, not me!), I lived in one bedroom and studio apartments in very nice parts of town. I believed that the environment was more important for my children (co-custody) than material things, so there weren’t tables or chairs. A sofa and a mattress on the floor were given to me.
It took a long time and lots of sex with people I never would have had sex with to survive, until I earned the education, skills, and jobs to be independent.
I was in my 30’s when I earned a 6-figure income and 100% commission. I was given the opportunity, but I alone earned it.
I was 40 when I bought my first house completely on my own.
But then I found myself in between boyfriends and work, struggling with the huge shift of “Money doesn’t mean everything.” I felt a huge pull, a call to give back, a call to do something, but so unclear. I have learned to have faith when that feeling comes! A new path is coming, and it will reveal itself in perfect timing. Looking back I am always amazed!
My daughter went through a divorce. My mom’s second husband of 28 years died. Mom got stage 4 cancer and lived.
I was able to be there for them.
In between all this, I rented my home out weekly in the summer. One year, I refused to stay with a boyfriend who clearly didn’t want me once he had me, or snatch myself a newly divorced surgeon just because I could.
I lived in a tent in the woods. I ate at a breakfast place and showered at the gym. That way I could afford to pay my bills and not have to sell myself.
I refused to have come all this way to sell myself to a rich husband. Prostitution comes in many forms. Believe me, I have had some amazing offers! A Ritz-Carlton condo (paid for in my name), nice trips, and fine jewelry…ah the rich life of the “other woman” or the trophy wife.
I have to laugh when one ex-wife said I was a gold digger to her less-than-rich ex-husband! I’m like…seriously?! Could you at least make me a GOOD gold digger?! Hahaha…
It was cold in that tent come the first of October, and I was thrilled when the last renter left!
Yes, I have slept in awful places and magnificent places, like yachts, private villas, fancy hotels, private planes, magazine-featured homes, and all over the world.
Now I’m in the Cabana of Love at the end of the dock in Sebago Lake, Maine in July…Epic.
The very best place I have ever been or ever slept in was, and always is…my own skin.
There is nothing anywhere, at any price, that is better and more luxurious than doing your work and sleeping in your victory.
Yeah baby. Priceless.