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A History- Part 1

March 22, 2011

I got this idea from my friend http://mrshughbankshopewithbpd.blogspot.com/2011/03/who-is-this-person-pt1.html

I haven’t blogged for a while, it’s been strange because I would blog almost every week and in a way it’s good that I haven’t been blogging because it shows that things have been more or less “okay” (in comparison to the usual chaos of course). I do miss it though so I thought as I don’t have much to write about at the moment that I would tell you the history of me and how I came to be here writing this blog now.

Early Years

I was always a quiet child, that’s what I remember, my family describe me as a sweet natured quiet little girl.

My mum couldn’t understand my demands as a child. I wasn’t a needy child but children do have needs and my mum wasn’t prepared to fulfill those needs. I began to realise that It was best for me to be quiet because screaming wouldn’t get me noticed or cared for and If I wanted to be cared for I would get it when it was appropriate for the other person. I learnt that my needs weren’t important. Sometimes I would scream and cry for a toy because I would always get it and this became a pattern, I realised that my screaming and crying did work for material WANTS. I always felt that my needs as a child meant that I was too much hassle, I have always felt that I am too much to deal with. So I wouldn’t make a fuss, I wouldn’t complain because I knew that all my demands were unreasonable. No one would fulfill my needs, if I needed comfort, it wouldn’t be fulfilled so clearly I was unreasonable. I learnt that I was unreasonable and asked too much from my parents, when in reality I was only asking for the things a child needs. Comfort, affection, someone I could go to with my problems. It didn’t happen. I was taught through this that if things are bad and if you aren’t satisfied with something then you just get on with it and shut up because no one cares and no one will help you.

I did have friends as a child, although most of them were false. I wasn’t a very attractive little girl in my later childhood and of course I was bullied for this. I had a few best friends but they all bullied me at some point or another or left me for someone “better”, I always felt other people were better than me. And looks played a big part in this, as a child I figured that the prettier you were the better person you were, the more liked (A habit of thought I’m still yet to fully get out of). I’ve heard many people say “everyone gets bullied” and that may true to an extent but not everyone gets bullied and then has no parental support to help overcome that fear and self esteem knock. THAT, I feel, is the key behind who actually gets severely affected by bullying. One of my best friends ‘G’ was very pretty, she was skinny and blonde, I was overweight with long, messy brown hair. We both had a friend called Z who lived in our street and we both liked him and of course he liked her back and they were boyfriend and girlfriend for a little while, I don’t know how they broke up…how do primary school kids even break up? Anyway, he favoured her and she would rub it in my face. It didn’t seem fair, what was wrong with me? Why did everyone bully me? Why did I have to be so unattractive? I stayed friends with her, of course, I wanted to know how to be like her so people would like me. It wasn’t fair. Then there was L she had a disfunctional home too she was older, always nice to me, unless there were other people around. She would then make fun of me infront of people to get their approval. We would play hide and seek and I was left in my hiding place while L and her friends left me there. They would laugh at me and laugh until I cried and ran home and none of them ever apologised. L just waited for me to come back to her again.

At primary school I was friends with a group of girls, there were 5 of us. The pretty girls would call us freaks and because of all their taunting sometimes I didn’t want to be friends with them because if the “better” girls thought they were freaks then they must be. What mixed up and horrible thinking, and this is in primary school. My beliefs of people were (are sometimes still are) based upon what the more attractive of our species believe because I’m just dying to be liked and accepted by those who are liked and accepted by the rest of the world. When you’re bullied for your looks, this is how you start to think. Beautiful people are better. I am still friends with one of those girls in that group and I’m sorry for how I felt sometimes, I’m not scared to be your friend because you’re much better than them, you wouldn’t judge or hurt a soul. The most gentle and loving of all the girls I know. Katy ❤

I sometimes see those bullies from primary school and I flinch and hide my face. They, of course, are even more beautiful as women now and I feel like I shrink and become insignificant. Sidetracked…

My first brush with mental illness was at the age of 6, my dad’s breakdown. I know you’ve heard the story a bazillion times but I’m trying to include everything. My dad has a psychotic episode, he has been made redundant and as a result his bipolar went haywire and he became psychotic. He was violent and frightening, he would sometimes scream at me without warning and not recall doing so the next minute. My father is a gentle person yet his illness caused him to become violent towards me. He was quietly angry and it would come out when I was “naughty”. The police were called and he was taken away. To where? I didn’t know. Why? Well mum said dad was mad and she would laugh. So I became frightened of people with mental illness from that point onwards. My understanding was that they took crazy people away because they were violent, bad people. But then, he was my dad and I couldn’t believe that of him. So I believe that my splitting may have stemmed somewhat from this view of my dad being jekyll and Hyde. I couldn’t put them both together. They were two separate people.

I was never a naughty child, that I can remember but I always remember being called bad or naughty or as my mum would say to other parents “she’s drives me mad, she’s a devil really”. I would get mad that she would tell other parents that I was bad because I was so well behaved. I wanted to please and be liked. I never got in trouble at school, ever. My favourite time of every year was parents evening where the teachers would tell my parents how good I was and my dad would buy me fish and chips for being a “good girl”. I longed to be told I was good. The only time I was ever grounded was when G was teaching me to ride a bike and I was going down a large hill, I was so scared I froze and swerved into a car. A complete accident yet I was told I was bad and was grounded. I could have been seriously hurt and instead I was punished for an accident because accidents were the only time I ever did anything wrong. If I knocked something over my mistake I was shouted at and told I was a “bad child” and was hit. I would cry and hide in my room. It wasn’t like a deliberately walked over to a stack of papers and throw them on the floor, it was a mistake but I wasn’t allowed to make mistake or I would be hurt. You can see the reasons for my perfectionism. I have to do everything right out of fear of being condemned to being a bad person.

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4 comments

  1. So far sound life was not easy for you either as a child. Glad you were able to survive to now you have inspired me a lot.


    • What a difficult childhood..I grieve for you..my childhood was the same..my mother actively hated me and my father was cold and distant..I was one of a twin who was a boy who my mother adored..
      I grew up with no sense of self , totally wild in my behaviour with terrible fears like the one you describe when you got a penguin?

      My salvation (excuse the pun) was that I was re parented by a loving christian couple in my early adult years…I had just given birth to my son..no father around..just a consequence of needing to be loved as you describe…they taught me that I was loveable and they then taught me to love my child..it has taken many years but I am now restored and mentally whole..
      love Rebecca xx


  2. *hugs* I ❤ you!!! 🙂 xxxxxx


  3. Got a good book suggestion for you….
    Emotional Intensity in Gifted Students by Christine Fonseca.
    And am researching a man by the name of Kazimierz Dabrowski and his theory of positive disintegration. Fascinating stuff.
    We are on a family trip to Dallas, TX, but I have my computer and look forward to reading the rest of your blog tonight….I always enjoy reading them, no matter the subject matter. 🙂 God Bless.



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