Childhood Neglect And Its Effects Essay
She had me say it over and over until I knew that I couldn’t. Mommie Dearest, she was sometimes, because as she always said to me, “sometimes she was good, and sometimes she was bad and sometimes she was just very very very horrid.” That was the little girl with a curl right in the middle of her forehead… Me, that was me.
So my life could be about early childhood neglect, abuse or whatever the 1950’s labelled angry stay at home moms and their Betty Crocker aprons powdered with cookies for the father who was mentally absentee due to “slight autism.”
But, no. I hate talking about abuse and further hate hearing about it, but it was where I came from and what formed me. Because I am a wonderful person 63 years later from that childhood and I suppose it was the dysfunction that got me to who and what I am today so, I am thankful.
I write well now, and it is because I learned how to escape within a mind. Disassociation is sweet. It teaches the victim a very important lesson that only is really learned by disassociating and by others who separated their psyche from traumas for protection. But, not all of them (victims) write or do art and many of those are left still scratching and clawing their way towards sanity. Many of them gave up because they lost hope in a supreme force that was benevolent and more kind than this dark bleak grey existence.
I had an imaginary best friend.…