Why I Wrote The Game of Life: Trauma and Drama
Welcome to my story.
If you’ve ever felt like your past was too painful to talk about—let alone write about—you’re not alone. My book, The Game of Life: Trauma and Drama, is a memoir born from exactly that kind of struggle. It’s a raw, unfiltered account of my early years growing up in Washington, D.C.—the years that shaped me, broke me, and ultimately pushed me toward healing.
For as long as I can remember, I knew I wanted to write this book. I even planned it out at the age of 11. But it took therapy—real, gut-wrenching therapy—for me to finally put pen to paper. To relive those moments. To tell the truth. To free myself.
This book is not fiction. Every page reflects real events, told from the perspective of the child I was, not the adult I am now. I wrote in the voice of that boy navigating the chaos of his environment. It was important to keep it authentic—to let that voice be heard, even if it was painful, especially because it was painful.
Why did I write it? Because I survived. Because someone else might be in the thick of it right now. Because maybe you need to know that it’s possible to make it out and build a new life. Or maybe you’ve never experienced trauma, and this book will help you understand what that kind of pain looks like—and how resilience grows in its shadow.
The Game of Life: Trauma and Drama isn’t just a book about hardship. It’s about movement. Forward motion. From trauma to transformation. It’s a story about what it means to live in a world where things happen to you before you’re old enough to process them—and how that shapes the adult you become.
What makes this book different? It’s mine. It’s not polished to sound like an adult’s reflection—it’s written the way I saw and felt things as a kid. It has tangents, emotion, slang, and rawness. That’s the point. It’s meant to bring readers into my shoes, into my home, into my city—and to walk with me.
The hardest part of writing? Remembering. Especially when my older sister remembered things differently. Some of my memories were shaped by what I felt, not what actually happened. But that’s part of the story, too. How trauma warps memory. How kids see the world through a filter of survival.
As for the title—The Game of Life, Trauma, and Drama—it originally had a different name: Chocolate City, Trauma, and Drama, to reflect Washington, D.C. in the 1980s. But The Game of Life better captured the stages I’ve lived through, and the idea that this journey has levels, like a game. It’s just that some levels come with more pain than play.
So what do I want readers to take away?
Empathy. Insight. Strength. Maybe even healing.
I hope my story helps you feel less alone or helps you better understand someone else’s struggle. I hope it sparks conversations, creates community, and encourages others to write their truths.
Thank you for reading.
—Victor L. Gardner Jr.
Have you read the book? I would love to read your review in the comment section. Let’s have a lively discussion.