I just thought about my mother today. How she never told me I was clever or pretty once even though any old fool could have told I was struggling with esteem as I grew up. I grew up to hate her, I know it is a strong word but I honestly did.
I was sort of indifferent to my step-dad because he treated me and my brother(his son) the same so my rage was directed at my mother. Ill never forget how she would scream at my biological father every time he came to pick me up.
I read some stupid American psycho babble book and started to think my step dad was to blame for me staying with a violent boyfriend. My choice justified it said because he made me feel protected as he was tough and as a child I felt helpless to my step dad. He was REALLY really really strict. One time him and my mum both attacked me, made me stand in front of the mirror, belittling me saying I was a liar because my face went red went I spoke. Look at yourself your a liar.
My brother came down with depression a couple of years ago before his son was born. He started on medication. But some of it is bio chemistry like me. But I bet our up bringing has affected him too.
I remember being at my martial arts class (I was only allowed to join because my brother asked I wasn't allowed to do anything costing money) and the knees of his suit were worn away to shreds. My parents never got him a new suit but they could afford to go to the pub four nights a week. GRRR. He was a talented golfer but he must have felt a bit down as he nevr had the designer gear or the proper shoes. I forget he must have been affected too.
I rebelled as a teen, how much of a cliché!