Hello shezbut: Thanks for sharing your experience. I don't really have any comments or suggestions of any consequence. But I thought I would simply share with you some thoughts of mine that came up while reading your post.

I was an only child. And I do believe my parents loved me... in their own way. (They're long-since dead now.) But perhaps due to who they were & also the times during which I grew up & where I grew up, I was pretty-much left to my own devices much of the time. Back then, kids just grew up. And whatever happened... happened.

Had I been just a "normal kid" (whatever that is) things probably could have gone better. But I had a lot of problems! (I'll spare you the sorry details...) In the end, I had an opportunity to move out-of-state to attend graduate school. I left & never went back, except for a couple of brief visits.

Growing up, my parents & I never talked about anything that was going on with me. It simply wasn't something that was done... at least not in our household. (My mother did try a couple of times when I was a teenager, as I recall. But by that time it was too late. The die had been cast, as they say.) So, as a result, they never knew what was going on with me. (And to a large extent, I really didn't understand it either.)

I believe my parents thought they were excellent parents (& they were good in their own way.) So I'm sure they died not understanding what happened & thinking I was simply an ungrateful & disrespectful crumb. For my part I can't help but feel resentment for how I was simply left to twist in the wind. I wonder sometimes how things might have been different had they been able to take more of an interest. I'm not sure how that relates to what you posted. But it is what came to mind as I read it. I wish you well...