I think I found out something last night.. It's odd, because when I think of neglect, I think of unheated rooms and starvation. I didn't think about emotional neglect and me. But I think now that there is something to it, perhaps.
Last night my fiancee and I were talking about our childhoods. We met in the 4th grade, so we both have memories of that time. I remember liking her a little bit even back then. So we're talking, and we get on the subject of bullies and stuff. This topic is Extremely triggering to me. I was alright for a while, but when she started talking about fighting back, I just fell apart. I -never- fought back. There might be one moment that qualifies when I was 17, and threw somebody off of me, but when I was younger.. I just didn't. I couldn't.
They always came in groups. And on the occasions when I nearly went after The Mouth of the group, they all jumped to defend him. This horrible demon of a child.
They took my childhood from me. When kids are supposed to be kids, running around a being goofy and stuff... I hated them. I hated the wretched God who damned me into this walking nightmare. I hated everyone who walked on two legs. I just plain hated life. And at home, it was almost worse.. Getting the shit kicked out of me on a daily basis by a psycho brother who could always overpower me.
So anyways, we're talking about all this; and eventually I begged her to please talk about something else, because my self-hatred was just growing and growing. I was starting to want to hurt myself for being such a goddamn coward, for not killing and killing and killing. Not sending the monsters to Hell where they belonged.
And then it occurred to me. No kid should be like that. (well this I already knew).. but.. No child should be in that position, where even with bullies, they wish to kill. It's not normal life. It's.. something else.
My parents should have seen it, should have been involved enough in my life that they worked it out. I wouldn't tell them of course.. I didn't want to add to the boiling stress and hatred at home. And they sort of knew. They were taking me to psychologists very young, and were told that I was on the edge of a nervous breakdown, even at age 10. They should have seen. Truly they were overwhelmed by the horror of life, and each other. My dad was a drunk (hidden) and my mom was basically psycho. They weren't hateful to me usually, but to each other? Whoa, boy. And mom was no help. Anytime I came even close to fighting back, she would come down on me so hard because of how it reflected on her. Not me. It was about her standing, not my well-being. So I couldn't fight. Mom forbade it, the teachers forbade it, God forbade it. When I should have been beating f*ckers half to death with a club, I did nothing. I'm so ashamed.
So by hook or by crook... they sort of unknowingly neglected me. They loved me. They didn't hit me or curse at me. Yet they were so caught up in their own torment that they left me to my own pitiful devices. I didn't have a support system. Just an entire world that hated me. Hated at school, at church, and at home. There was no escape, just a blistering, non-stop horror show.
So yeah.. that just occurred to me last night. My girl told me that it wasn't my fault. That a parents job is to put their kids first, to figure out what is happening, to investigate and go to war for their children if necessary. Mine just ignored it.
