The few (and only) times I ever talked about my earliest memories to my adoptive family, I was told that children do not remember much before their 5th birthday. Any story that children think they remember is just that...a story. They likely overheard it on TV, the radio or heard people talk. In my case, I was just looking for attention. If you're looking for attention, you're being bad, as good children are seen and not heard! You must therefore be ignored until you can learn to be good! While they were busy 'ignoring' me, they would routinely forget about me.
I was also told that if I asked for something, I could not have it because I was rude enough to ask. How dare I?! I seldom if ever got anything, let alone something that I really wanted. When someone was going somewhere and I could have gone along, I would end up not getting to go. Why? They didn't know I wanted to go because I didn't ask and why didn't I speak up?!!
So you see, dear daughter, even to this day, it is engrained in me not to ask for help unless I can show blood, a broken bone is showing through the skin, I've fainted or I've fallen and can't get up. I tried never to call friends just to chat. I made sure that I always had a 'reason' for interupting their day because I felt so guilty for bothering them. But even that backfired when my friend Paula (you remember Paula?), near the end of one friendly chat said, "OK, so what did you call for?" After I repeated her question in shock, she said, "Yeah, everytime you call, you want something." I politely told her that I felt that I needed a reason to call her, as I could not otherwise justify disturbing her. I never called her or anyone else again. Your father answered the phone when he was around, I let the answering machine do its job and I got you to handle your calls to her daughter yourself. You were getting old enough to arrange your own playdates and sleepovers, anyway.
Talking about your problems was a sign of weakness and there just ain't no way I'ma gonna do that! If you showed weakness in my adoptive family, the human vultures would circle. They would dive in with their sharp claws of ridicule, insults, taunting cruelty. One needs to build a high wall of protection around oneself and by writing this down, I'm am working oh-so-slowly to bring down that wall, brick by brick. It is such tedious, draining work. Tedious because I have always written things out with an actual pen, not a computer and I am losing my energy. Draining can apply to physical energy but even more so, at least for me, it can apply to emotional, psychological and mental energy. So you see, dearest daughter, you simply must forgive me every time I get sidetracked from a story. I feel an intense need to stop and justify everything I say and do before I can continue. Perhaps it's just as well that you are not here so I can just keep writing without constantly seeking your permission and approval. Time for me to grow up and just get on with the task at hand... wouldn't you say?
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