Today’s daily prompt is: deprived
I have often said and thought that I, as a child, was deprived. Deprived of stuff (both material and immaterial). It’s often emerged in jest as Ashley recounts childhood memories only to have me interject with some physical gesture to insinuate that her upbringing had snobbish overtones.
It’s true that, when compared to others, there was a lot of stuff, things, experiences that I missed out on. It is especially true post-parental-parting. My parents split when I was 10 and mum went on welfare. Added to this was my mild-kleptomania, stealing money from mum. School uniforms were subject to payment plans.
I was a boy of small stature (most clearly seen on the sports field) and yet this was no reflection on my level of nutrition. Our cupboards were never empty. I had a bike.
Material deprivation is relative.
I had simple lunches, non-label clothes, simple experiences. Emotionally, I was deprived. I don’t know why, but I’m not sure there was a whole-lotta-love. This was most clearly seen (or not seen) in a lack of affection – physical, emotionally.
So, I guess the closest I came to deprivation was in the arena of affection. Affectionately deprived. That’s about the extent of it. Any other assessment of deprivation was merely relative to life in a material world where other people had more of what I wanted.