flat out said, “No, we can’t afford it”. So, the feelings I had deep down were a real thing and they insidiously remained there as part of my story.
In high school, my dad lost both of his offices. His story was that LensCrafters drove the small guy out of business...I don’t know...this could be true.
Both of my siblings had already gone to college, my Mom was now working full-time. At home, it was just me and my dad. My dad was in bed most of the day. He was there when I left for school and there when I came home... still in bed.
I was ashamed and embarrassed for him. About him. I felt my Father’s failure as my own.
See, in high school, I wanted to hide the bizarre behavior of my houseHOLD and just tried my best to smile, act normal, and have an extraordinary, lively high school life. I was the cheerleader. A popular one. I had friends, joy, fun, a baseball player boyfriend...but then coming home to a dad in bed...100lbs over weight, wasn’t too fun for me. I just wasn’t equipped with the right tools, at thetime, to properly integrate and process that, with a good result and in a loving manner.
And this time, in my life, although I didn’t know it then, would come to define me and greatly impact my later years like a boomerang...
I was daring out of college andin me was a born creative entrepreneur. I was shown the good life immediately and I wasn’t afraid to live my dreams...but as success came, trauma would follow.
So, every time I failed, every broken relationship or failed leadership attempt...it all led me back to the same story...my childhood... well, my junior year in High School particularly.
No, not really poverty, but poverty-minded.
We were very suburban middle class, but from my perspective...there was truly never enough “comparatively”.
My dad was an optometrist. He had his own offices which would also make him an entrepreneur running two businesses. And as an entrepreneur, sometimes he had cash...but sometimes not.
My mom would sit, over the bills, in her night gown, at the kitchen table slouched over, hands encircling her face, crying. Can you picture that?
We drove old beat up cars and our house...well, let’s just say ’twas the smallest and least kept up one, on the block...
It really bothered me, because quite simply I could never afford the latest jewelry or sunglasses trends. It was the year of the Raybans. It wasn’t exactly teen-friendly timing. Anyway, I presume I can cut out the whole explanation of what it’s like to be a teenager trying to fit in at High School.
LOOKING BACK from my current vista, I did have enough. We were fine...but when comparing to my friends...I never had what they had, so I felt poor.
My socks always had holes in them and when I asked for new stuff, my parents
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