I grew up moving around a lot. My parents rarely worked at anything that paid the bills and a diet of corn meal and government cheese was normal.
I quit school at about 17 to get work shoveling fish guts.
I loved and hated school.
I would take my math books home and read them over and over. Then I would not show up to class as I didn't know how to interact with others.
I would show up and ace every test but fail or barely pass the class as homework and participation counted.
I had never really heard about homelessness at the time but we where homeless. My family was spread living in a few derelict trailers and sheds with no running water, electricity supplied by extension cords. A heat lamp and heavy clothing in the winter.
When my dad said I could get a job at the near by fish plant I jumped at the idea.
I lied about my age as you needed consent from the school district if I told them the truth. (This was the later 80's so easier to lie to employers)
At this first job experience people were nicer than I had ever experienced in school. I was still afraid but nothing like I was in school.
Next came being invited to parties, and alcohol.
I could not believe how I felt sick but better emotionally than I had ever felt after a party. People liked me and talked to me at work more. Which lead to seeking out more parties and drinking.
Come pay days I'd sign over my check and feel guilty about asking for 10$ when in today's dollars I was probably earning 60-70k a year with overtime.
(I prefer to be anonymous as I do not want my fears of what people think of me or my family to affect what I write. I have not had any writing classes and it is my weakest point. Tonight I'm Cleaning Out My Closet)