It's how you cope with the difficult things that matters, not whether they happen
Dear lord - you might be blessed with intelligence and a well paid job but you weren't front in the queue when the empathy was being doled out were you?!
I was a high earner. A really high earner with a degree and two professional qualifications and a gold plated CV. I am lucky because that helped me keep my head above water when the shit hit the fan. And the shit really did hit the fan.
When my child was 3, I dropped him off at my mum's to play for an hour whilst I popped into A&E with a rash which looked a bit dodgy. That started a chain of events - emergency admission, life threatening auto-immune condition which didn't respond to treatment, very dark days and even darker nights. One treatment was found which worked - hurrah! It was high dose steroids - boo!
I was finally let out of hospital - hurrah!
But they hadn't realised that I had silently contracted two other autoimmune conditions which went untreated for a year. The steroids had resulted in me putting on massive amounts of weight (would love to hear how you smugly cope with "I don't gorge on junk food" on 150mg of prednisilone). I was on such high doses that I had to carry a medic alert card. Then the weaning off of Prednisilone and resulting steroid withdrawal (grim).
Then dealing with sleep apnoea so severe that the sleep clinic consultant said it was the worst he's ever recorded - most likely due to the weight gain caused by the Cushings syndrome which was caused by... yup you've guessed it... the steroids.
Before diagnosis I thought I was depressed (no doubt from the junk food I ate
) and very embarrassingly fell asleep in work literally as I was typing on the computer at least once a day.
The combination of the falling asleep in work and the other symptoms of sleep apnoea and the child who having started with separation anxiety (having been adopted 2 years before) was now velcro child and getting increasingly stressed at being left with anyone else meant I decided that I couldn't continue working and I quit my job.
I lived on thin air and savings until I realised that my health and my child were unlikely to cope with me working full time for some years to come and I took a relatively low paid job working part-time, downsized to a smaller house and ditched my plans for a second child.
And now I work for myself - kind of full time but flexibly - in return I make about a third of what I did before but the extra flexibility is worth it to deal with the extra school meetings I have to do with DS's additional needs and his difficulty being left with other people even now.
So we get by. And we're happy. And I'm not earning £50k, but I'm still happy even though I'm fat and eat junk food, go figure
I can;t imagine how hard that all would have been without the luxury of a previously high earning career. I would have lost the house very quickly as the mortgage was high.
Yes I have worked very hard at times in the past, yes I have sacrificed things to get a step up that ladder which others might not have been prepared to do. But I don't kid myself that some of the key things which helped me get there were anything but pure luck - being born with brains into a family focused on education (albeit in a working class family in a working class area many miles from the bright lights of London), a degree of mobility and support in doing what I wanted to by my parents. Not to mention going to university in the days of no student loans and benefitting from huge house inflation.
I have no regrets at pootling along now on a wage which is unlikely to see the higher rate tax bracket... who needs heating, I have my empathy and my fat to keep me warm.