Some of these homes were like mansions, other were outright estates. While it was nice to admire the houses and daydream a bit about suddenly coming into wealth and being able to live in one, I also found myself become rather depressed as I realized that living in such a house had been part of my plan all along, and that it will likely never happen.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still rather content with my life and all-in-all I am quite blessed, but it still felt like a dream was dying inside my heart. I don't doubt that the people who live in those houses believe that they deserve them, that somehow what they do is better than what other people do with their lives. Still, I know that so much of that wealth comes not from hard work and persistence but from a number of downright lucky moments (often starting with birth). I'm not saying that I deserve one of those large houses any more than the people who live in them do, but I get irritated with those that believe it was something other than luck that led them there.
In truth, I'm not certain how good that detour was for my mental state. I like myself better when I'm not filled with envy. I have a good life and I need to be more grateful for what I have.