By that definition, I am not sure I own a pair of "Golden Handcuffs," but with a few gentle edits to fit my personal weirdities:

My own bad situation might be the flight pattern which keeps me forever isolated on the fringe of life, uncommitted to much of anything. My independence would be my "golden handcuffs." Allowing other people anywhere near my vulnerable spots is terrifying for me. Equal portions for my personal and career life. I have quit more than one job because I felt like the walls were closing in on me.

I couldn't have spent 35 years with a partner that expected to be the center of my universe. We have had separate addresses for quite a few of those years. Gee. . . Why do so many psych pros think my middle aged sons have abandonment issues?

A factor for me has been guilt. When I was married to an abuser I stayed with her for years due to the guilt I had associated with breaking my marriage vows. I finally left after she tried to kill me a second time.

Now the guilt is with work. I feel a tremendous amount of guilt leaving because of the difference in the win ratio between me and the other attorneys that also do the emergency cases with me. It is a 15%-25% gap on average. That is huge.

For the same reason my daughter does I guess.
When I left she was 13, but I had been trying to leave for 5 years. Her father was the example of a perfect supportive Father to her. So much so she blocked what was done to me. That has changed now. She remembers, but damage done as far as her feelings towards me.

Atec there was a lot of guilt-ing me in that marriage as well as the "Good Catholic" wife that came from my family. They didn't see most of it until he couldn't control it in public anymore. Unfortunately by then I had heard so often that " You have everything, "don't rock the boat" " that part of "Don't rock the boat" had been a constant saying in my life to get me to be silent.

For me, there's no gold. More like cow chains. No gold. Just black iron. I'd love to break free of the whole thing sometimes, but .... I made promises. I am all my mom has (guilt!), and the reward is.... pending?

Weird thigns bind us, to our jobs, our selves, our pasts, our everythings. Me, I am so glad Hubby does no bind me at all except for a small gold ring on one finger that is not a chain but a reminder. *whew*

In my job, I found a source of self worth helping people, worked my way up the ladder after divorce and moving across country to a very large teaching hospital...I worked so hard, I became very good at finding "Cancer" reading patient slides under a microscope...I am not bragging. It is the first time I have written it down...it makes me sick to my stomach still to say??? Who wants to be known as the "cancer finder"..??? My boss, another boss, coworkers tried to make me feel good, but after doing this so many years, I felt in order to feel good about myself, I HAD to find cancer at work..it was making me physically and emotionally sick, even though I was told "Oh they can get treatment early"....someone comes into the hospital for a simple procedure, and if I look under the microscope and find leukemia/cancer cells, I have to report it, maybe on a child, a baby, someone who has come out of remission early, a bad sign, and I saw this day in and day out...I had to face doctors who came in yelling, they had to tell their patients, it could mean a death sentence, I lost myself, I lost my perspective, I did not want/could not keep this up. but it was just me, my salary, no kids, no family support....and yet at the same time I felt guilty...what if I am not there and cancer gets missed, I was one messed up person if you have read this far. I am a cancer survivor myself. There is a saying I have heard.."Sometimes to get our attention, God has to put us flat on our backs"....I pushed myself, stuffed my feelings, wore myself down to the point one day at work my eyes and brain shut down partially...I could no longer read/process/write....could not work, my career was over...I am not sure if I could or would have made the decision to leave that job, but the decision had been made for me..."a version of flat on your back"..I felt weak, useless, and the PTSD I had been running from most of my life started coming out. Yeah, family guilt, work guilt...I had not heard the term "Golden handcuffs" before, it didn't seem/feel that..more like "Guilt handcuffs"...just me...Hugs to all who are or who have been in a place like that.

Thank you cheesecake for sharing. It can't be easy to be that person that finds the spot that is what it is. I can also understand the mind shutting down what it thinks is hurting it. I have major problems with numbers now due to the schedules of my husband's treatment and loss from cancer.
I am working to get that back now.

Hugs.

In my case...it's more like a gilded diaper!

I am afraid to try...and my mom puts up with me being depressed and physically ill.

Part of it IS that I'm not physically or mentally well.
Part of it is that I'm coddled a bit, if I'm honest with myself, and if I pushed REALLY hard, I could do better.

I'm being lazy. I'm wallowing.

I don't have any Golden Handcuffs now, but once upon a time I did, jewells. I've mentioned that in 2000 I lost my convertible and my condo on the golf course plus my cushy university job when I went through a divorce that triggered my PTSD and put me in the hospital.

I ain't gonna lie to you. My community college job now makes me teach twice as many class per year as that job. Compared to my shabby studio apartment, that condo was awesome, especially the view from the balcony as it overlooked the golf course's 18th tee. The convertible was sweet, too. Quite different from my used Hyundai Accent now with the paint peeled off of half of the hood.

Sometimes I dream about them all because, after all, I had the American Dream.

But I was in a Golden Handcuffs situation even though I had no idea. I was so involved in my PTSD recovery and my weekly support group that I didn't notice my spouse had gone another way. I didn't know for 13 years until I left support group one evening early, telling my friends I loved her so much I wanted to surprise her. Then I was the one who got the surprise myself. I found out what had been scheduled for about 5 years at home when I was away in support group every week.

It was my second ugly surprise divorce under said circumstances, too. I know, fool me once shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. So that's why I had no capacity for coping. I just ended up in the hospital in full PTSD crash.

I wish I had the cushy job, the condo, and the convertible plus what I've learned about my recovery since then, too. But then I would never have gone on after I got my Golden Handcuffs off after my divorce in 2000 to be a hospital chaplain from 2001-2010, a dream that my marriage had deferred. Despite the ugly end of our marriage, my spouse was a lovely person from a Catholic background who couldn't see herself married to a minister, even a hospital employee chaplain. So though I had been admitted to graduate school twice for training for that job before I met her, when we married I went the university job route and I put her through grad school instead. I know, "sucker," right? But it's what I wanted to do at the time. It seemed right. So I wouldn't have changed anything about my Golden Handcuffs to go on to be a hospital chaplain after all unless a crisis forced me to.

I got free of my Golden Handcuffs to do the hospital chaplaincy thing until Seroquel damaged my kidneys and I physically couldn't that any more in 2011. Those nine years were awesome, though: ER chaplain in Chicago where all the action is, chaplain for a heart transplant unit, and hot shot brain surgery chaplain in Kansas City on the team with some intense scientists. Wow. Are you kidding me? Dream fulfilled!

Plus, even looking forward from now in 2016 after health made me lose that, too, in my paycheck to paycheck community college instructor life now, another dream deferred awaits on the future horizon. You all know I got PTSD growing up as a missionary kid in Uruguay, and exposure therapy back there opened the place back up to me. My spouse hated the place when I took her there once so we never went again. I know, it's the Third World, no place to take a bride. But I love it because it's my childhood home.

It's where I want to retire. I'll admit, partly out of need. It's a tax haven for US retirees. Like Belize, Uruguay allows US citizens to live there without taxing their pensions and Social Security, so you can live on the gross before taxes. I'll have to do that because my community college job now pays so little I couldn't afford to retire in the USA even if I wanted to.

But I don't want to. You here at DS PTSD have supported my returning to Uruguay every year for more exposure therapy. I was so scared the first time I went back to where PTSD started for me in a car bombing ad a kid that I had to be sedated by a psychiatrist. But now I've gotten to where I really like the place, and the war's over, it's peaceful. So being obliged to retire there because I don't have enough money to retire here in the US isn't Golden Handcuffs. It's being "forced" to do what I wanted to but couldn't do before.

Karma, amigo.

Muji I hope you make this deferred dream come true.