The hidden struggle: understanding addiction in privileged families

Part 4 of 5: Beyond the Golden Ghetto

Happy New Year! The following post was not easy to write because some of it triggered troubling memories and filled me with fear. Yet these are stories that need to be told—stories about addiction, privilege, and the price of keeping up appearances.

During this past holiday season, I discovered Wim Wenders' film "Perfect Days." It’s the story of Hirayama, a Tokyo toilet cleaner who escaped his family’s life of privilege, abuse, and addiction by embracing simplicity, routine, and mindfulness. His journey mirrors a troubling reality: according to a 2017 Arizona State University study, young adults from affluent backgrounds are two to three times more likely to develop drug or alcohol addiction compared to national averages. This piece explores the unique pressures, enabling factors, and hidden struggles that fuel addiction in privileged families—and offers paths toward healing.

The perfect storm

The weight of legacy

Like Hirayama, whose wealthy sister is startled by his modest lifestyle, many from privileged families grapple with the burden of expectations and identity. Having descended from a great-great-grandfather's railroad fortune and an ancestor who wrote Harvard's mathematics curriculum, I've felt this weight firsthand. I also had a client who was William V, carrying the weight of being the fifth in his family line to bear the name. It was expected for him to take over the family business, but the combination of genetics, stress, sarcastic shaming and belittling at the dinner table, and feeling invisible as a child led to a life of treatment centers and regrets. The pressure to match or surpass previous generations' achievements can be crushing. While Hirayama finds peace in simplicity, many turn to substances or workaholism as coping mechanisms.

Performance at any cost

The pursuit of perfection in affluent communities often exacts a devastating toll. Students turn to stimulants to maintain impossible academic standards—I took caffeine pills in high school to power through late-night papers. Recently, one client's son, who abused ADHD medication to study, began using marijuana to manage his mounting anxiety. He ultimately required treatment for both addiction and mental health issues. Another client's husband, a tech entrepreneur, would rage at his wife and children if the house was less than perfect when he came home from work, as if a less than pristine environment would reveal his inner turmoil. He later left his wife for an employee, and his company went into bankruptcy—a stark reminder that the facade of perfection often masks deeper instabilities.

The isolation of privilege

Social isolation can be devastating when wealth creates barriers to authentic connection. One client described losing a friendship after her friend saw the inside of her elegant home: "It was as if my house told her everything she needed to know about me."

I understand this alienation—at age eleven, I moved to an estate on Newport's mansion row, Bellevue Avenue. As a European transplant entering this world in my pre-teens, I felt like a perpetual outsider. With frequent moves, private schools, and boarding schools, my children and I have experienced a profound sense of rootlessness and disconnection. Our social circles span various locations, leaving us searching for a true sense of belonging—what many refer to as Adult Third Culture Kid (ATCK) syndrome.

Books and piano became my refuge until adolescence, when I discovered that tobacco and alcohol could buy social acceptance at parties and boarding school. They became the one common denominator. For many, substances—whether alcohol, marijuana, or prescription stimulants—offer a similar escape. As one friend shared, “alcohol gave me wings; but eventually it took away the sky.”

The glamour trap

In many affluent circles, indulgence and excess are mistaken for sophistication, reinforcing harmful behaviors that lead to addiction. One client's father marked her return from rehab with champagne, triggering a life-threatening relapse. Was this mere ignorance, deliberate sabotage, or maintaining appearances?

Hollywood amplifies the glorification of substances and hyper-sexualization. Consider Marilyn Monroe's telling line in "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes": "Don't you know that a man being rich is like a girl being pretty?" Such cultural pressures often fuel addictive behaviors, creating a cycle of escapism and emotional emptiness. The connection runs deep—more than 40% of people with a relationship or sex addiction also struggle with substance abuse.

As Bernie Taupin captured in "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road," seeing through wealth's illusions can be sobering, but for those who remain in the penthouse: "It'll take you a couple of vodka and tonics, to set you on your feet again."

The enable and shield pattern

Affluent families often enable addiction by shielding children from consequences. Parents hire attorneys to make legal troubles disappear and pay DUI fines without hesitation. Crashed cars are simply replaced with new ones. The absence of financial pressure means no urgency to get up and go to work. Some expensive rehabs might seem beneficial, but many fail to address the underlying causes of addiction. Meanwhile, money allows individuals to maintain a veneer of functionality despite serious substance abuse.

This enabling extends to what Dr. Paul Hokemeyer calls "hyper-agency"—the ability to literally fly away from problems. When things get painful, wealthy individuals can simply jump on a jet and leave, never dealing with the underlying issues. In recovery circles, we call these escape attempts "geographicals," but money makes them particularly effortless and frequent.

Access becomes effortless. In my own home, my mother's wine cellar was constantly replenished for frequent entertaining. Even more telling was my friend's grandmother—a Newport blue blood—who kept the liquor store delivery number at the top of her house's emergency contact list.

The pattern starts early. In the luxury ski resort of Gstaad, boarding school students spending their winters at the school's winter campus are equipped with their fathers' black American Express cards, checking out of dorms to party all weekend in hotel suites. One nine-year-old we knew had never been on a "public" airplane and went helicopter skiing each weekend. Such early exposure to extreme privilege can distort children's sense of reality and boundaries.

The mental health-trauma connection

Content warning: This section discusses sexual abuse and trauma

Addiction in affluent communities often intertwines with mental health challenges, as Jessie O'Neill explores in "The Golden Ghetto." These challenges frequently stem from what Joyce LeBeau termed the "silver-spoon syndrome"—a prioritization of public image over private well-being. The consequences are severe: chronic depression, emotional emptiness, lack of empathy, and an obsessive pursuit of pleasure, all fueled by the belief that money can fix anything.

Within this culture of image maintenance lies a darker reality: the prevalence of sexual abuse. One experienced therapist observed a higher incidence of sexual abuse in aristocratic families, noting how children become conditioned to associate love with secrecy and shame. This pattern often begins with having to hide affection for non-biological caregivers, creating a foundation where blurred boundaries become normalized.

Gloria Steinem, as cited in O'Neill's work, provides a chilling insight: "As a man's financial worth increases, so does his perceived power and his sense of ownership of women—a noblesse oblige among men, if you will... there is more reluctance within the legal system to punish those at fault when they are surrounded by the increased protection of wealth."

This toxic combination of shame, secrecy, and entitlement creates perfect conditions for abuse to flourish. One client's story illustrates this pattern: After losing her father, she endured sexual abuse from her aristocratic stepfather while her mother busied herself with entertaining and her new family. When she finally expressed her pain about being cast aside, her mother responded with mockery, choosing to protect her image rather than acknowledge her daughter's trauma. Even after achieving long-term sobriety, she continues to struggle with feelings of despair.

Asking for help

Stigma surrounding addiction runs particularly deep in image-conscious families. In one devastating case, a husband preferred letting people believe his wife's overdose was an accident—or even that he was responsible—rather than acknowledging the truth of addiction. Such denial and stigma prevent families from taking action until it's too late.

Watch for these warning signs:

• Preoccupation with substances or behaviors

• Persistent cravings

• Withdrawal symptoms during attempts to stop

• Deteriorating relationships

• Mounting negative consequences (health, legal, financial)

If you're concerned about your own or a loved one's substance use or mental health, reach out to the Arise Network, find a therapist who specializes in addiction, or connect with support groups like Alcoholics Anonymous or Al-Anon. Prioritize your own well-being through exercise, mindfulness, breathwork, hobbies, and maintaining connections. You don't have to navigate this journey alone.

Finding our own ‘Perfect Days’

Recovery in affluent communities extends beyond mere abstinence—it's about discovering, as Hirayama did, that a meaningful life emerges from embracing simplicity, routine, and presence. You might find contentment in observing sunlight filtering through leaves, engaging in acts of service, or enjoying quiet moments between events.

Like Hirayama's journey in "Perfect Days," try this Two Weeks of Presence exercise:

1. Document your daily routines (morning, lunch, evening, night)

2. Select two habits you typically rush through

3. Practice full engagement, free from distractions

4. Observe your physical sensations, emotions, and thoughts

5. Keep a brief daily journal of your experiences

True transformation comes not from wealth or status, but from finding meaning in connection, authenticity, and life's simple joys. Recovery is not just survival—it is rediscovering the beauty of living.

P.S. I write all my blog posts myself. But I use AI to help correct grammar and spelling mistakes once I've finished. Since you've taken time to read this, I think it's important for you to know.

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