To this day, I never told my daughter what I was dealing with when I was living in my truck. I always picked her up on the weekends, something she did not like because she wanted to spend that time with her friends. Before I would get her I always made sure to clear out my truck and clean it up. Anyone who has ever lived in there vehicle for any extended length of time is intimately aware of how everything seems to wear down on the inside very quickly.
I remember I had roaches inside my truck because I was eating inside and food got on the floor between the seats and everywhere else. Often times I had to urinate into a bottle because I did not have anywhere I could go without being turned away, especially in the middle of the night. Never the less I did my best to make sure everything was spic and span when I picked her up.
She had to know something was up when every time I picked her up we slept at a hotel. Even though I could not afford a hotel room I refused to spend one night in that truck with her. I was dead broke each weekend after I picked her up because I desperately tried to cover up my faults with going to the beach or movies and then to a nice hotel. At the time my pride as a man and father was so shattered that I could not handle telling her I was homeless. 3KCRTHHUQQSG
She is 16 now and our relationship is a lot better. Although I am still not where I want to be its better than the truck and I am grateful for that. I think one day I will tell her I just don't know how to explain it to her. What would you say?
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