These are things I have learned of my childhood that I previously did not know or recall, as recounted by my mother during our last session with our shrinks. I put this into recovery because it is helping me to recover from what I always thought of as years of neglect.
When I was 5 my family moved from a small town, where I had lots of friends to bigger town, that had literally NO children my age. (I did mention this in another article a few minutes ago) my little brother had been diagnosed as clinically retarded (at the time this was what they called High spectrum autism) and needed special services.
I always though my parents loved my brother more and made the decision based on that. However, it turns out I too had been diagnosed with something. At the time they called it âExcessive dependencyâ I was too reliant on my friends, or so said the doctor, and it was negatively affecting my ability to be independent.
Doctors who made these diagnoses have since been ridiculed for ruining livesâŚ
The other thing I learned is that âbio dadâ the man my mother was dating when she was raped, used to buy me presents. In fact the bicycle that my mom said was from santa when I was seven, was from him.
not only that, but when I was 15 he was the one who bought my first car, not my mom. His original plan with the car was to come to me that summer, tell me who he was (claiming to be my real father) and help me restore the car, but he received his cancer diagnosis a week after buying it, and dint want me to get attached to him only to lose him.
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Sometimes things were not the way you think they were, and knowing the truth can help form a healthier/more positive view on them.
I hope this will free you from the thought of being neglected for years, and will make you feel that they did care.
Iâm not even going to go to what I now remember about my childhood, not going to go there. I hate money. I hate it. Shouldnât exist. My preschool teacher was afraid of me taking over the world, this I not only remember but have seen in writing. Conversation came to me at an eerily early age. I never allowed girls to play âpiratesâ with me on the playground at preschool until this one girl Alison pinned me up against the wall with a chair until I told her girls were just as good as boys. Thatâs when I made that change. This wasnât even kindergarten. I was type A king of the world until something happened, I mean at snack time all the kids in 1st and 2nd grade pulled all their desks up around mine unless I deemed you worthy which meant you were different and thus earned my respect, the loner non-conformist type, the type I really wanted to be.
In come sports, I become an outcast because they didnât interest me in the least. Something goes wrong, all my friends turn on me and it was serious enough for me to persuade my parents to find me a new school. I find myself a liked enough loner with a friend or two at a private school by 3rd grade who spent most of his time alone on the playground living in his head as the majority played kickball.
Thatâs my early childhood. A few years later I grew up. I once rolled a tire down a hill behind the science center and hit the hood of a Farrari. Was I a bad kid? I donât know, the first time I went out of my way to help someone in need I felt God. Was I a bad kid, it was gonna get much worse as I grew up. But no, itâs not that simple, enter girls, music, cigarettes drugs music and whatever I felt like wearing which included black nail polish. Arson? Why the hell not. NoâŚI was actually a decent kid the whole way through and as I learned more the better a person I became. But society rewards the oppositte really. Regurgitate what youâve been told or what youâve read and keep youâre head low and you can go on to make money and get off on crushing weaker people Iâve been told anyway.
Notice I didnât say a damn thing about my home life. Not a dman thing.