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How a Child Becomes a Scapegoat
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<blockquote data-quote="witzend" data-source="post: 658624" data-attributes="member: 99"><p>The older and further away I get, the more disgusted I get with them. Not to say that I live in anger, but that now when I think of the things that were (are) done to me and said about me instead of thinking "What did I do to deserve that" I think "What kind of parent has two children with Muscular Dystrophy doesn't take them to the doctor to see how to help when they get tired, or smile crooked, or suddenly go from "average kid with excellent grades" to <em>the kid that gets bullied</em>. Who chooses to call them "lazy", "moody", or "sad" instead? I can kind of see it with my older brother - he was ten years older than I and an adult out of the home when he got his diagnosis (and I got mine) but I was 11 years old. Why tell me that you won't do anything to protect me from bullies at school because when you asked who was picking on me and I said "everyone" - <em>because it was everyone, </em>but of course I was exaggerating<em> so there was nothing you could do to help me.</em></p><p></p><p>And now I know "why". Because they were sphincters. They <em>knew</em> the reason that I seemed sad and lazy and it was a medical condition and it <em>should</em> have been accommodated and they <em>should</em> have stuck up for me more than any of the others. But if they accommodated my medical condition or stuck up for me they would have to admit that maybe I <em>wasn't </em>"the lazy one" or "the angry one" or "the sad one" and they couldn't just abdicate their parental obligations to me. And I was a little girl on her own, and 35 years later my moron of a mother was <em>still </em>telling me to "stand up straight" as though I actually could. They're miserable people and I dislike them and I have no time for them. If the people around them choose to buy into their manure, that's their problem and there's nothing I can do to change their minds, but I'm not the terrible lazy person that they have made me out to be. They're not the kind of people I need to know. Life is so short and I won't spend another moment of it pretending that there's even a moment that is not worth living. I'm going to enjoy it instead. </p><p></p><p>But there's not much more you can feel about a sphincter who's abused you when they were supposed to nurture you than be disgusted.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="witzend, post: 658624, member: 99"] The older and further away I get, the more disgusted I get with them. Not to say that I live in anger, but that now when I think of the things that were (are) done to me and said about me instead of thinking "What did I do to deserve that" I think "What kind of parent has two children with Muscular Dystrophy doesn't take them to the doctor to see how to help when they get tired, or smile crooked, or suddenly go from "average kid with excellent grades" to [I]the kid that gets bullied[/I]. Who chooses to call them "lazy", "moody", or "sad" instead? I can kind of see it with my older brother - he was ten years older than I and an adult out of the home when he got his diagnosis (and I got mine) but I was 11 years old. Why tell me that you won't do anything to protect me from bullies at school because when you asked who was picking on me and I said "everyone" - [I]because it was everyone, [/I]but of course I was exaggerating[I] so there was nothing you could do to help me.[/I] And now I know "why". Because they were sphincters. They [I]knew[/I] the reason that I seemed sad and lazy and it was a medical condition and it [I]should[/I] have been accommodated and they [I]should[/I] have stuck up for me more than any of the others. But if they accommodated my medical condition or stuck up for me they would have to admit that maybe I [I]wasn't [/I]"the lazy one" or "the angry one" or "the sad one" and they couldn't just abdicate their parental obligations to me. And I was a little girl on her own, and 35 years later my moron of a mother was [I]still [/I]telling me to "stand up straight" as though I actually could. They're miserable people and I dislike them and I have no time for them. If the people around them choose to buy into their manure, that's their problem and there's nothing I can do to change their minds, but I'm not the terrible lazy person that they have made me out to be. They're not the kind of people I need to know. Life is so short and I won't spend another moment of it pretending that there's even a moment that is not worth living. I'm going to enjoy it instead. But there's not much more you can feel about a sphincter who's abused you when they were supposed to nurture you than be disgusted. [/QUOTE]
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