I don’t know anyone who likes the feeling of being rejected. I know for me it has probably been one of the hardest feelings in my life to deal with. Rejection goes to the very core of who we are as human beings. I believe of all the emotions we can experience it is probably one of the most devastating and painful emotions we can feel. Some people are more sensitive to rejection than others. I happen be one of those people whom having suffered rejection early in life, carried a lot of that baggage into adult hood with me. So it made an already painful situation worse for me because of the added psychological aspect, hey bonus! The good news is, I have grown to a point in my life where I can process things a little better and deal with
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While it isn’t a story of a romantic break up, broken hearts can take many different forms. My parents were married for fifteen years and divorced. I clung to my mother, she was everything to me, she was my entire world and emotional security in this life. We were very poor and my mother struggled to find work to help support her four children. I am really not sure how much my father helped us out during this time. We moved a lot and my three brothers and me slept in one bedroom in an inner city duplex. When I was about 7 years old my mother was dropping me off at school every day, I don’t know why, I can’t even tell you today but I would turn around and leave to wander the streets all day. Walking all day with no food or water to drink. I can still remember sitting on the curb throwing rocks down the sewer hole just thinking about whatever a seven-year-old thinks about. This went on for about two weeks until my mother got a call from the school wondering where I was. Mother explained to them that she had been dropping me off at school every day. They were all in complete disbelief as to what a seven-year-old would doing all day wandering the streets of the inner city in a large Midwestern town. Obviously, I was having a hard time dealing with life the way it was and I just wanted to be someone else other than me, and somewhere else other than where I was
While it isn’t a story of a romantic break up, broken hearts can take many different forms. My parents were married for fifteen years and divorced. I clung to my mother, she was everything to me, she was my entire world and emotional security in this life. We were very poor and my mother struggled to find work to help support her four children. I am really not sure how much my father helped us out during this time. We moved a lot and my three brothers and me slept in one bedroom in an inner city duplex. When I was about 7 years old my mother was dropping me off at school every day, I don’t know why, I can’t even tell you today but I would turn around and leave to wander the streets all day. Walking all day with no food or water to drink. I can still remember sitting on the curb throwing rocks down the sewer hole just thinking about whatever a seven-year-old thinks about. This went on for about two weeks until my mother got a call from the school wondering where I was. Mother explained to them that she had been dropping me off at school every day. They were all in complete disbelief as to what a seven-year-old would doing all day wandering the streets of the inner city in a large Midwestern town. Obviously, I was having a hard time dealing with life the way it was and I just wanted to be someone else other than me, and somewhere else other than where I was