When i was a child, my father didn't like that i was drawing so much, and he would repeat over and over that only manual / productive work pays money and every artist just end up in the streets begging for money. My mother didn't think much about me drawing, neither of them would look at what i draw, they pretty much never cared about it.
When i asked for going to an art school my father was opposed to it and despite my health issues, i failed the third year at high school just once and he sent me to the mecanic apprentice school / formation and i spent two years learning and working as a mechanic around the age of 15, but i was still drawing in my free time. Even tho i had back pain issue (spina bifida) he would need me to help him in the garage after work or school until very late sometimes, my father was only seeing life through work and nothing else, mecanic / repairing car was his passion. I would just help him sitting around because i couldn't whitstand a standing up pose for more than two hours.
My parents were fighting a lot after they divorced when i was 4 year old, fights for keeping me and my sister under their guard / home, and a lot of in between familly fight ensued, "tell your father i said this, tell your mother i said that, your mother's cousin said that etc etc" parents were not the most responsible to take care of their childs but had a lot of energy to fight to have the charge of the childrens as if it was a medal of pride. As a mean for escapism from how horrible the familly situation was, and how little care me and my sister really received i kept drawing and creating my characters and universe, at school it was not going very good either, from my elementary school and age of 5 / 6 i was allways at the last place of the classroom, and no other child wanted to get close for i was a little bit strange already, i was very quiet because there were already enough tensions, disputes, and problems at the house.
I remember that i was really bored at school and cursus were so easy i wasn't paying attention and just kept drawing in the margin of my books / lesson pages, and even in my class report journal, sometimes i would do stupid and idiotic strips on the side of my exam sheets and hopefully the professor was just laughing at them, but sometimes, one would not be amused and remove a point for the drawings all around lol.
Even after all these years, my father has 2 cancers these past two years, and this time, he has one in his bones... I can't say my father wasn't right about the fact i would never make a living by drawing, i feel like he has allways been disappointed by the fact i was born with a defect, and he will probably die without being able to prove him i'm worth something, or otherwise.
Well that's how it is.