Throughout my life, I've had a larger than average exposure to the children of the very wealthy. What strikes me is that they seem afflicted with the same exist

Throughout my life, I've had a larger than average exposure to the children of the very wealthy. What strikes me is that they seem afflicted with the same existential angst that plagues us all from time to time. They wonder what everything means, what the point of doing anything at all, much less something great, truly is. In short, they are always in search of meaning, and never find a final goal in which to place their faith. The main difference is that for you or I, even if we slip into nihilism, depression, or hedonism for temporary spells, reality always demands our attention. Even mere millions last at most years if truly spent with the abandon the "fuck it all" lifestyle requires. For the children of the very wealthy, they can escape into these distractions for years, possibly forever. Some of these children manage to claw their way free of the meaningless merry-go-round of booze, drugs, sex, travel, and wild purchases. Anecdotally, the things that seem to assist this process are, in no particular order: a family mythology as found in families such as the Rockefellers, newly discovered religious faith, restrictions upon their finances, a hobby or profession with it's own addictive qualities (such as running, or programming), or a significant other that provides a surrogate middle class mindset. It's a bizarre situation, but wealth can kill just as surely as it can protect. I don't have the answer here, but if you're fortunate enough to make it big, spend some serious time thinking about how to protect your children and your grandchildren from the downside of your success.