So this is most likely going to be my most personal post I’ve ever done. Yes, that’s right, more personal than the social services blogs and more life effecting for myself.
When I say accepted, I mean knowing you belong there. For myself until I meet Anth I never truly felt that. When being held in his arms, looking into his eyes, no matter how much we argued his arms accepted me.
Now the next bit, as some would say will make me sound like a spoilt brat. I had more than some children as in material items, but there was something a miss.
I went to live with my nan and grandad when I was 5, this wasn’t easy as my whole family had always hated me.
Being continuously tease and told that I was just a burden to my nan and grandad. Trying to play the games being told I wasn’t good enough, then the family that did want to know me my nan would say “their not my blood”. This confused me, I started to get loud wanting to be heard by them all and wanting to be accepted, but no each time I tried and thought I’d get there they would kick me down.
“What are you talking about that didn’t happen”, this became the main saying of my childhood. Sadly it didn’t stop there even into my adulthood I would be told it was my imagination. To the point on multiple occasions I have had to get proof that things weren’t in my head. This even includes my own daughters medical history, having to show social services that we had on multiple occasions that it was all true. Thank goodness for paperwork is all I can say.
All these things can make a person feel extremely un-accepted. The reason I’m sharing this is to prevent any other person feeling the way I do.