G ames

“Those pesky things!” — Dad

In a single day our economic stability went down the drain. We were forced to leave the city and seek opportunities at life elsewhere. We left our big home and our nice lives which lasted less than a few years and returned to the struggle. Just further below this time.

Recently at this time my father’s father in law died, and he felt an incredible loss that he was never able to come to terms with and he had no idea where to go or what to do. Without guidance or resources, life becomes very harsh.

My father succeeded in taking management of an old restaurant in a town 100 kilometers away from the city. He lived inside a makeshift “room” not bigger than two square meters for a year before we had the resources to rent a house there. For the next 15 years my parents would devote most of their efforts to this restaurant.

Running a restaurant is not easy, neither is dealing with a loss that I could only compare with having a winning lottery ticket suddenly catch fire and vanish in front of your eyes, except that the ticket cost your life savings.

Games helped me find solace in the years to come, as they would be very lonely. Still, my father strongly suspected that they were the cause of my hair loss. No, he was actually very sure of it and he really wanted to remove them from my life. Probably the realization that they were the only thing I had that made me happy was what stopped him from reaching those extremes. I don’t think I would be alive if he ever did that when I was young. I am certain I’m not exaggerating.

Life in town was hard. Back at the city everyone knew me and my circumstances. It wasn’t the case now, as both at the streets and school I was laughed at or picked on. My easygoing nature could only take me so far. When I tried to get close to others I would get turned down because of my appearance. While they were exemptions I periodically felt more and more lost about how to socialize properly with others.

Life at home was hard. My father was left very affected by all that happened and became very prone to anger at the smallest provocation. He soon took the project of “cleansing” me from games, taking them away for weeks on end, which didn’t help my whole situation. Naturally, my grades started to drop, which in turn caused my father to become even more vigorous in his reprimands. He started saying and doing things that a kid shouldn’t go through. I became very withdrawn in my own family.

I didn’t want to go to school and I didn’t want to be home either. The most peaceful times of the day were those hours that happened after school and before my father came back from work. Whenever I heard him come back I literally started shaking with fear — I was genuinely terrified of him. Even to this day I still feel a hint of fear when he comes back, even when I know nothing bad will happen anymore.

During many years the thing I’d look the most after was summer and winter vacations where I was able to stay at my grandparents house for two weeks. We visited them often anyways but I wanted to be with my grandmother a lot. One could argue that it was because I got too much out of her. She indeed gave me spare money, prepared all the dishes I liked and even bought me games when my father wouldn’t do that anymore. It wasn’t because of that but because there I was uninterruptedly able to feel happy, safe and at ease. I didn’t even mind my uncle waking me up at night when he was drunk to talk to me for hours on end about nothing at all or my grandfather taking the television to put on his news or make me go with him somewhere under the scorching sun. I didn’t even mind the time when my uncle put off a cigar in my hand or when I made my grandmother really mad for breaking the plant pots in the bathroom. All of that was fine compared with being home.

There’s something really sad about not being able to be yourself with the people you love. Sharing time with my family began to feel like a compromise of my own identity. I felt fake.

Whenever I wanted to talk about what interested me I would be shut down and told how useless those games are and how bad they have been for me. About how they’ve made me lose my hair, how they were making me withdrawn or unsociable outside home. In their eyes, a kid once that won a prize for getting the highest grades in a municipal examination was reduced to a student with a lot of failing grades due to games. My family found a culprit and the verdict was irrevocable.

My father never gave up in his efforts but at the same time wasn’t consistent with them. Sometimes he wouldn’t mind and other times he just snapped on the spot, taking away everything for weeks on end and I wouldn’t be able to even watch TV. All I could do at home at those times was study and sleep. I had to learn to be always on my toes, never to let my guard down. I wanted to defend myself, but nothing I could say had any validity.

One time when I got really bad grades in fourth grade he told me I was leaving school for good. He took me to one of his friends, a secretary of education, and there they simulated paperwork that severed my ties with education. I felt some of the darkest things at the time but all I could do is sob in silence. After missing school for almost a week to clean dishes at the restaurant I was taken back to the secretary’s office to be notified that the whole thing was a play. For my father this was an attempt at making me see the importance of being in school and not in the streets working but to me it was nothing more than a cruel prank.

It’s only after I started studying college that I was able to begin to understand my father. It’s really hard building understanding in an environment like that and sometimes distance is necessary. It’s important to keep in mind that my father was also going through a lot himself, all while trying his best to do the right thing for his family. At the time I wasn’t able to look at him as anything other than someone not to provoke, but he was far more scared and lost that I’ve felt at any time. I do not resent him in any way, because I love him.