Not doing good

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This came up at counseling yesterday:

There was a time when I was little, probably 8 years old. One of my responsibilities was to go to the grocery store. In New York there is a grocer every other corner so not odd at all. As happens with a lot of little children I got tempted and did something wrong. I tried to steal a pack of gum. I got caught.

I was a sensitive kid. I would fall to tears at any harsh reprimand and I really did aim to please. So what happened in consequence might affect me more than it did others.

The lady at the store called my mother to tell her that I tried to steal.

I was already home when my mother took the call. My biological father was sitting in the kitchen (you got to realize that if you added up all the seconds I spent with dear old sperm donor it wouldn't equal 24 hours).

My mother was furious. How dare I? She grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me across the kitchen floor. She turned on the stove. In new york you hear the stoves light. Click, click, click, swoosh as the gas ignites.

I look at my mom, just pure anger.

I look at my biological father, indifference.

My mom pulls my hand closer and closer to the flame. Close enough for me to feel the heat, but not so close as to burn me.

"Your lucky your father is here, next time you pull that shit you won't be so lucky."

I look over to my biological father. He just shrugged, kind of like saying "What do you expect me to do."

And that was my life. No one willing to take a stand for me.

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I think what bothers me most was a) My biological dad was there b) he didn't act or react.

I feel so ugly and worthless now. I hate the way I feel and part of me even hates myself. When am I going to deal with this bullshit and pack it away for good.

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