When I was Homeless

This is a time that I have not given enough thought about. And the reasons might be obvious, because of how painful these times were, but one thing that I have learned recently is that anything that keeps coming up in your mind repeatedly is something that you have not yet fully learned from. So I will be writing about this until I can finally put this part of my life to rest, and live on.

My homelessness was caused by my father. I use to look up to him when I was a child. He was a monster, but the kind that could not control itself, and so he was a immoral monster. He taught me a lot of things. He was something that I like to call an anti-role-model. He showed me how not to be a father. How not to control your emotions. How not to listen. And from these time periods, there was a single way for me to escape. I did not have any siblings, so I had to find a way out by myself. Now this is one of the number one ways in which I am blessed, because it could have gotten a lot worse than this. The way I chose to escape was through my imagination, through play.

Whether it be imaginary battles, wars, or actual video games, comic books, or toys, I escaped through play. In my games, I always had strength, power, choice. Something that I did not have in my home life. I could create as I saw fit. I could live as I saw fit. In my world, there was an enemy that I would overcome, as well as a group of people that loved me. I had a lot of fun doing so, and this would be something that would persist until my high school years, and even today.

I am not ashamed to say that I used imaginative play well after everyone else, because it has helped me greatly in my ability to picture my future, mold my future, and help me motivate myself. My imagination is probably one of my biggest strengths. It was cultivated and fertilized by immense pain, and grew to the size of the scars that I suffered.

So that is where my imagination comes from. . .

Next time–more on my father



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