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In my childhood, I grew up in public housing. From the age of 11, I attended what in the UK is the rough equivalent of a public high school. This was during a very volatile and violent phase of societal change in my country, set against a backdrop of illegal paramilitary organisations. They effectively “hoovered up” a high portion of my childhood friends, regurgitating them as dead bodies or incarcerated prisoners with no future. This was the reality of my childhood and formative years. The majority of the lucky ones who escaped this fate now work in manual labour and assembly line jobs.
And then there’s me. I’m retired at 58 and could be considered slightly wealthy. How can having such similar childhood and early adulthood experiences produce such different outcomes? My brother was more intelligent than me, yet he got sucked into the paramilitary organisations, spent time in prison for attempted murder, and developed drug and alcohol addiction. Suicide took his life before forty. Two of my uncles were high-ranking individuals within the leadership of these very same organisations and also spent time in prison. Again, I think, what’s different about me?
I can’t think of much. I had an instinct within me to avoid drugs and gangs; peer pressure from my friends didn’t faze me. I worked hard; in 15 years of employment, I never missed a day. I looked at my brother and thought that whatever he did, me doing the opposite would probably be the best course of action. I’ve had a stable and strong relationship with my now wife since high school. I put effort into education and learning, yet I still struggle to pinpoint the reason for such contrasting fates.
Other than the above slight advantages, I managed to get on the housing ladder, invest what I could afford for my future, and eventually leveraged my house to start my own business. I maybe had luck and some good fortune along the way, but a stable relationship, strong work ethic, entrepreneurship, and the stock market all interconnected to let me have my current lifestyle.
I don’t feel ashamed of my story, and although some people scorn those who succeed, they haven’t walked my path or felt my anguish. I survived and endured an era of violence and emotional trauma, but thanks to the wonder of compounding and the economic system that offered me pathways to success, I’m grateful and humbled for my retirement over adversity.
Mark,
I enjoyed reading about your personal journey. I grew up in Cork and was not affected by “The Troubles” but certainly faced plenty of personal adversity and feel like I changed my destiny for the better by moving to the States 40 years ago. I recently finished reading “Say Nothing” which I found to be very well written, researched and although it was challenging to read at times, it is an excellent book.
I succeeded in so many ways, more than any other member of my family. Unfortunately they were blighted by many obstacles. I was the first to attend college etc and feel very blessed although I certainly worked very hard to get to take part in “the American dream”
Mark, thanks for a very thought-provoking post. I can’t imagine the challenges you faced as a child and young adult. My daughter-in-law’s parents are from Croatia. Her father escaped while it was still under communist rule and made it to America. She was born and grew up in Central California. Last year I met her cousin whose family stayed there and he was a child during the Balkan wars. His stories were pretty grim. I realized that my daughter-in-law would have lived the same experience if her father and mother hadn’t got out. It was a visceral reminder of the good fortune we have to be born in the USA, even in modest circumstances. Growing up amidst war and violence is almost impossible for Americans to understand. Thanks for sharing your story. I sincerely hope you have found peace, and that you and your neighbors experience peace for the rest of your days.
I’ve tried growing avocados in my garden—with seeds, saplings, all sorts. Some died fast, some hung on briefly, and a rare few thrived. It made me think: raising young people is even tougher, and the outcomes can be just as unpredictable.
A teacher once told me his story—it mirrors Mark’s. He grew up in Kent during the Swinging Sixties, in a loving family, with all the promise and pressure of the era. Despite finishing college, he struggled to cope and fell into alcoholism. One day, he boarded a cargo ship to Southeast Asia, hoping to escape the life he couldn’t face.
Lost in Thailand, villagers led him to a remote monastery. There, he discovered Buddhism and chose to become a monk, living with nothing but three handmade robes and a food bowl. Years later, he reunited with his dying parents in England, and when his mother asked, “What are you doing with your life?” he quietly replied, “I try to be a saint.” Like Mark, my teacher faced a moment when the world around him felt unlivable – Mark leaned into the system with his grit, self-discipline, while my teacher stepped outside it seeking meaning in the liberation of the soul.
Now he guides others—teens, retirees, anyone searching for direction.
Culture shapes us, but we also shape it with the lives we choose. I keep asking myself: given the world now…what should I do next?