(2 of 2)
Affluenza victims often go to great lengths to hide their privileged status. Swanee Hunt, the daughter of Texas Billionaire H.L. Hunt, kept her identity secret from schoolmates. Marriage and a change of name were not camouflage enough; at her request, she and her husband moved to Europe. "I spent a lot of years trying to escape," says Hunt, who now lives in Denver. As a student at Yale, Boston's Pillsbury regularly denied any connection with the well- known name and steered clear of talking about his exotic vacations. "It was a question of coming back from African safari. It was too different." Ellen Malcolm of Washington, D.C., avoided telling office colleagues that she was the granddaughter of one of the founders of IBM and purposely dressed down to fit in. She explains, "I thought that they would see me as a walking dollar sign instead of the person I am."
Dating is often a source of anxiety, particularly to women attracted to men of lesser means. "I've had to make certain choices in seeing men who don't have as much money as I do," says one Atlanta heiress. "For example, driving on vacation instead of flying. But some wealthy women measure how many rungs of the ladder a man has climbed." Others are paralyzed by fear of being used by potential lovers or marriage partners. Declares Wilkin: "You can get paranoid and stay home and watch TV and eat bonbons."
| Many sufferers are terrified of losing the fortunes that give them a sense of identity, but they are often woefully prepared to handle them responsibly. "Over and over, I talk with inheritors whose parents will not talk about money with them," says Consultant Levy. "It's treated like a subject in bad taste." When parents do talk, the instruction is likely to be minimal. Tracy Gary remembers one such childhood directive. "This is a quarter," her mother told her. "You have a lot of choices. You can donate it, save it, loan it to a friend."
The last option can prove especially painful when borrowers are late making payments or even ignore debts. "I didn't need the money," says Pillsbury of a $4,000 default. "I felt emotionally ripped off." Partly to avoid personal anguish, younger members of the rich set have established more than 200 foundations in the past 15 years to channel their financial contributions.
More often than not, victims of affluenza find it difficult to seek help. Notes Mark Goulston, a Los Angeles psychiatrist: "Many rich people believe that they don't have the right to have problems. They often feel ashamed of complaining. There is an incredible loneliness at the top." Some efforts are being made to ease their plight. Six years ago, Gary began holding seminars and weekend retreats for the wealthy, where they could discuss the pressures on their lives candidly and confidentially. Such self-help gatherings are now held nationwide. Says one attendee: "It was the very first time I had been able to sit in a group of people and admit I have money." Cost of a seminar: around $20. For some, it may be the cheapest and soundest bargain they ever struck.