My childhood was one of extreme poverty. We were never homeless. But my dad worked so much we never saw him. And the toll it took on him was such that my brother and I were basically terrified of him even into our early adulthood. He was brutal, mean, always angry. Our mother died when I was 10 and he abandoned us with our grandparents. I don’t blame him anymore. He had a breakdown. The world finally destroyed him. But life with our grandparents was better. They were kind and in their own harsh way taught us we had to be tough and make better decisions. It didn’t stick with my brother. He’s been borderline psychotic ever since mom died. I think it destroyed him, too. But even now at 30 I count every penny. Every expense is important. Even going on a date with my wife, I’m afraid the whole time. What if...what if..it’s nearly constant. All that to say I think I understand how you feel. And I agree, those who haven’t and don’t have to live like we did just can’t understand it. That’s not a value judgement. It’s just human nature.
Almost the same happened with my father. It's why I think poverty can span generations easily. I am grateful now my mom and dad got a divorce but during that dark time I only saw my dad if either myself or my brother were in trouble or if we happened to be running around the trailer late at night.
