The colors rich people don't want you to know exist.

The colors rich people don’t want you to know exist.

The other day in Williams Sonoma I smelled poor. It wasn’t that I smelled bad, I just didn’t smell like that store and that store smelled rich. Have you ever felt that way? I swear, walking through those warm open doors in the mall I instantly knew that nothing about the rest of my weekend was going to smell so pumpkiny delicious. There were colors associated with that fragrance, oranges and reds and yellows that danced just out of my poor vision.

As I teenager, I remember being surprised to learn how many colors rich people had access to. This is probably something best told to one of the four counselors in my not so distant past, but there it is. When my friend showed me the J.Crew catalog I was like a tribal warrior from Africa puzzled by a remote control. Seriously, did you know that “heather acorn” was a color option? How about “antique?” Do own anything in “academy purple?” What does that even mean? I didn’t know, but I felt like I was missing out on something. That I had the ghetto version of the rainbow while other people with nicer sounding last names had better versions of everything.

The idea that you’re a second class citizen in any form or fashion is such a deceptively perfect lie. Because, in the rare chance that something good does come your way, you reject it. You don’t feel good enough for it, don’t feel you deserve it, are more comfortable with silver medals. And so you don’t ever really enjoy it.

But what if the best things in life were meant for me and you? What if the precondition to open the gift was our ability to enjoy it?

I’m probably the last person that should write that though because I’m horrible at accepting good things. Counselor #4 told me that addicts medicate most in two situations. The first is when they are feeling low and want to numb the pain. The second is when they are feeling good and don’t feel at home with that feeling so they medicate their lives back down to that low spot they’re most familiar with. That’s me, constantly sinking my own boat when things get too good. Drilling holes in my happiness bucket until it all spills out.

Things are good right now. Will I light them on fire like I’ve done hundreds of times in the past? Or will I eat a pumpkin muffin while wearing a citron colored sweater? We’ll just have to see how the fall goes.