I’m 35,000 feet in the air, and it feels like we are at a five-star hotel, all my wants and needs are taken care of. I was never a person who had aspirations of flying on a private plane, but I surely don’t mind. I don’t mind that it’s small, I actually love the coziness of flying private. I like that the pilot has to walk through the cabin to use the restroom, which means we are on first name bases and if I’m lucky he will show me pictures of his kids. I love getting to know the stewardess asking them about the worst flights they’ve encountered and the famous people they’ve served. But the best part about flying private is the extra large bathroom, the spacious seating, and not having to wait to board and de-board. Walking on the tarmac I feel like someone important, yet I’m not. I met, fell in love with and am now in a relationship with a wealthy man. I never planned on dating rich, that’s was never the requirement to ride this ride. I just wanted someone that was nice to me, that treated me like my Dad treated my Mom, and Richard was that guy for awhile.

The way he looked at me made my legs swoon lust, passion, and attraction lay behind those baby blue eyes. He used to say his only goal in life was to make me smile. He used to say he was happy if I was happy. That lasted for four beautiful years. We traveled 5-6 months out of the year; I didn’t have to work, so I focused on my blog and my hobbies, my days consisted of exercising, writing and going out to fancy restaurants. It sounds like a dream come true, but I wasn’t satisfied. I was the opposite of satisfied. I was miserable. I hated my life. I didn’t have to worry about money, or how to make a living but I was not in control of my destiny. To the outside world, I had hit the jackpot, I was living the dream and felt guilty for not enjoying it.

I always knew I was destined for greatness and as much as I loved being able to get up whenever and never worry about money I knew I wasn’t living up to my full potential. I wasn’t working hard enough. I grew up in a working-class family. My dad worked, my mom worked, my grandparents still work, so not having to work felt like a blessing and a serious cruse. I felt as if I was wasting my life. When was I going to get started? When was I finally going to tackle my dreams? When was I going to make my mark on the world?

Growing up my Dad did something crazy; he told me I was the best. He didn’t say I was special; he didn’t say I was a pretty pretty princess, he told me there was no one better than me. And I did something even crazier. I believed him. I believed I was the best, that I could do anything I set my mind to. So when I found myself in this fairy tale existence instead of feeling set of life, I started to feel trapped. As much as I loved the illusion of financial freedom I knew it was just an illusion. My boyfriend was secure; I wasn’t. No one ever wrote me a check for a million dollars. No student loans were paid off, and he made it clear no marriage was on the horizon. So I was in the interesting position, nothing was on my terms.

I’m not only a woman I’m a minority, so I have the spirit of my ancestors clinging to me like a wet towel. I was not only born to be the best I also had the added pressure of excelling because my ancestors died for me to be able to do this. They died so I would have the opportunity to aspire to be more.

My future wasn’t as bright as most might think. I could hold on to this man, ride his coattails, marry rich, have a nanny for each child, multiple 10,000+ square foot homes around the US and have a charmed existence. Or I could work for what I wanted. I could get up every day and run towards my dreams instead of sitting there letting things happen to me. I could be honest with myself and admit I wasn’t 100% happy with my current relationship. We loved each other, but there was a severe power struggle that I wasn’t excited about losing.

Richard loved me, but he made it crystal clear that he was the boss, he made the rules, and I followed them. I shared my opinion, and most times he listened, it was those few times that he pulled rank that tormented me. He had the money, so he held power, and that never sat right with me. I needed to be selfish. I was in my early 30s no kids and no real responsibility other than to make myself happy.

So the question is how did you do it? How in the world could you leave a millionaire for a life of struggle and the stress of being an entrepreneur?

You read Nike’s Logo and do precisely what it says. You don’t think about it; you just do it. When I told Richard I was going to move out, he didn’t take me seriously. I gave him a move out date, and he continued to act as if everything was normal. We were fighting a lot, our relationship wasn’t working on many levels, yet he didn’t feel like moving out was the solution. Which was the perfect example of him making the rules again? No matter how much I explained that I wasn’t happy, that I wanted more, that I didn’t have any power I had to come to terms that he didn’t understand it and he never would. Why would someone get up every day and work when they had the choice of traveling and living a life of leisure.

I still remember the day I left. Richard offered to get me movers, but I declined. I had money saved and was planning on taking a chance on myself, not getting a part-time job or a 9 to 5. I was going all in on me. Richard slept in that day; he sleeps in every day, so I’m not sure if he did it on purpose or if it was just fate. I pack up my little Corolla and hit the road. It was raining, and I was crying. Looking back in the rearview mirror I thought about all I was leaving behind, all that could have been and tears choked me up so bad I had to pull over to the side of the road. This was it, I was doing it, what in the hell was I thinking.

It took about 45 minutes for me to compose myself and get back on the road. I knew I would face many obstacles ahead, but I also knew I had to do it. This was the next part of my journey. This is what I had been working towards my entire life. It was time for me to step out on my own and take control of my destiny.

So now I’m wildly successful with my very own fleet of private planes and money to spare… hahaha, I wish. It’s been almost two years I’m still working for myself. I have multiple sources of income, and I’m always worried about failing, about not having enough, about letting myself down. But I love it; I love my life and my choices.

A close friend of mine told me her and her boyfriend regularly talk about me. How could Mary leave Richard? How could she walk away from millions? They both proclaim they would have stayed have no problem telling me I’m crazy and strong. But I know she also wants to throw in another verb, stupid, I’m stupid for leaving such an easy life. Oh well. In the end, no one matters, but yourself and I know I made the right decision for me since I wasn’t put on the earth to be a gold digger. Nope, I’m a certified Goal Digger.