I was taking to T about how the neighbours where I was brought up in a working slum in London, would call me "bastard" because I was adopted.
These were the days whrn old ladies said on their steps and kids ran the streets.

Well I ran the streets to escape the abuse at home, but I was being SA by older boys in the streets. These older boys are still in the media for crime todsy!
I show T the headlines whenever they're in the news. She says "the whole family were f**ked up"! And gets angry.
It took me a yr to reveal the abuse by these boys. It fell out one session whrn I said suddenly" you don't know where I've been!!!! "I immediately covered my mouth with my hand and didn't say anymore.
It came out over a few sessions, Whst happened and the place they would take me to do this.
With all this going on I was literally running the streets mad most of my childhood. (I couldn't even get on at Sch because the events happening to me filled my head. I dropped out of Sch) . Yelling" f**K off"to the old lady's on their steps who sat in judgement of me. Telling me I was this or that. I'd break bottles and chase my adoptive brother up the street after he tormented me one time to much. (he was our adoptive mothers chosen one and to this day still plays that role not telling me she had died "
The neighbours would see this but wouldn't see what was going on for me.
T asked me last week" what would you have wanted those neighbours to have done? "

I had no answer.

Thinking about it since then. I guess. To have seen ME! The ME that was crying out for help but had no idea how to ask for it or even if I deserved help.
I think this carried on into my life in the here onand now. I had no idea to ask questions, because I didn't feel entitled. I didn't feel entitled to be helped. I realise now I deserve it and I deserve the therapy I got.
I don't put 1 foot in with it. I jumped in with 2 feet. It was that or die.
I didn't have the privilege to mess around. I was dying.