Dad, Poverty, and Value

In exploring Poverty Mind related to some other stuff I'll save for another day I found some insights into my relationship with my dad, specifically why it is that I have a better...relationship? with  my dad. First off, a little background into my journey into becoming a grandmaster at poverty mind. Growing up my mother told me regularly, "we don't have enough money for (fill in the blank)" on a regular basis, whether it was asking for a toothbrush, having to drive to the school for a required performance, some bananas, going to the doctor because I might have a broken ankle, going to the dentist before my tooth abscessed. And here was the confusing part for me; there was always enough money for dad's alcohol, and mom's cigarettes.There was enough money for mom to cover the house in plants. There was enough money for mom to spend weeks in the hospital because she "just couldn't take it anymore", yet when my dad's fingers were nearly cut off she complained about him getting stitches. Dad was in town every week to "get parts" (buy booze/go to the bar), yet we couldn't drive into town for a school function I was required to be at. And just to be clear, we never went without at Christmas time, there were plenty of presents under the tree, I always got new clothes at the beginning of the school year, so we although we had some degree of poverty, it was a moving target as to just how much money we didn't have. The message I got was; there isn't enough money for what I wanted/needed.

Around the time I was 15 my mom left my dad, and I came with her. She started having a relationship with another man, and when we were living out of state she would drive to neighboring towns to get him another Harley tee-shirt, or send him a leather vest or jacket...but again things like materials I was required to have for class we didn't have the money for, she couldn't drive me to school if I missed the bus, I skipped lunch because I constantly heard how much money we didn't have.

Right before my 17th birthday I went to live with my father, in part because i didn't want to finish my senior year at yet another new school, and in part because I didn't want to live under the same roof as mom's Harley man, who was also an alcoholic and a creeper. My dad didn't have a lot of money, things were tight, but as was pointed out to me; we shared in the poverty. We had a shared experience. And he shared with me equally, or perhaps I even got a little more, hell he had the for site to put a Christmas gift on layaway for me, something he knew I really wanted. He wasn't giving away what little we had to someone else, he wasn't piling things on his plate before giving me the scraps. And in that time, especially my senior year I subsisted on very little. I owned 2 pairs of pants, 5 shirts, and very limited groceries which we supplemented with hunting. Even though I may have had less, I FELT valued, I WAS valued by my father enough for him to share in the poverty, and that kids is why in spite of everything that came with his alcoholism, I have been able to find peace with my father's shade. 

And it's not just money related things that showed me that my father valued me, it is also that when I was with my dad he valued me for just being his daughter, and not because I was a care-giver. And during those years he showed me my value by spending time with me, teaching me things, being interested in my accomplishments and interests, and, yes, by sharing in the poverty (you know, parental things).