THE IF-ONLY-I-HAD MYTH

If being rich made people happy, all rich people would be happy—yet we've all read stories about rich people who are abjectly miserable. It's not that having enough money to buy food and shelter and basic comforts doesn't make life easier. But when we begin ignoring what we do have, we miss the only place from which we can glean any kind of happiness or satisfaction or love—which is here, now.
Before my husband and I lost our money, I'd been complaining about our house. Built as a vacation home in 1960, it's drafty, and the plumbing doesn't always work. After Madoff confessed, I couldn't believe my good fortune to have a house, for that day and the day after.
Before Madoff confessed, I didn't
like the way Matt chewed his cereal, wore ankle socks, and was insistent on focusing on the positive. After Madoff confessed, it seemed miraculous that I'd ended up married for more than 20 years to a man I adored. I remembered again how much I liked his face, his laugh, his walk, the way he rolled his eyes.
Before Madoff confessed, I'd peer at my body from the holes in my psyche. After
watching a movie called Losing Everything and Getting It Back.
When we lost our savings, I couldn't believe how blind I had been or that I hadn't paid off my house, put aside funds for family and friends, and given away a quarter of what we had. From the perspective of losing everything, having anything seemed like winning the lottery.
But with this new turn of the wheel, I began receiving calls and letters from family members asking for money—and once again I felt like I didn't have enough.