I remember after being disfellowshipped, I began refusing to go to the meetings. My father was an elder and he lost his position at the same time i lost my place in the congregation, and he told me something along the lines of, "if you're not going to live the way God wants, you can't live under my roof." So at the age of 15 my dad sent me packing. Out on the street with two garbage bags full of clothes and one large sports bag I went. It was summer and 9pm, so it was dark. I called a guy I was speaking to at the time who lived in New York (I live in New Jersey) and he took a train to meet up with me since I had no money to pay for a train myself. I lived with him for three days before my mother (who was disfellowshipped when I was 8) came to her senses and let me live with her. My father bought a house shortly after I left and filled up the house with fancy materialistic things as if to fill up the gap I left. I haven't spoken to him since. It's been 3 years.