We were not church goer`s but there was a deep belief in God in our house and He was mentioned on occasion if a little divine intervention was called for.
So I was raised a believer.
So I was raised a believer.
And I did pray, not because I was encouraged to but because I needed all the help I could get some days. My prayers were simple, asking not to get in trouble, could I be more popular, please don`t let them be mad and could I marry Donny Osmond.
As every child of a Narcissist knows no matter how hard you try it is all to no avail, they are unpleasable but with child like hope try I did, over and over.
I blamed myself as I was trained to do, I must be so bad, I kept making mistakes, I was never good enough, what I did was never good enough so I would try harder, tomorrow I would be perfect, eventually I had to get it right...right ?
But I never could make her happy, it was exhausting and distressing and confusing,
having both a Mother who was never happy with me and a Father that never lifted a finger to help. I cried more and more when I was by myself. I tried not to cry in front of her as I had learned it made her madder, my emotions must never be addressed before hers and a young child's outward distress may easily do that so she threatened me and shouted even my sobs into submission. Even now I rarely sob noisily and when I do it is such a release. Mostly I just let the tears roll down my cheeks impassively.
So I prayed and tried and sobbed in succession, like a hamster on a wheel in a never ending circle. I believed so deeply that God could hear my prayers and was refusing to help that I became angry with Him. And one day it all got too much, I sobbed as I tore 2 or 3 pages out of my Bible, telling him, He couldn`t be real and if he was He couldn`t care about me if He had given me such an evil, horrible Mother and I knew my Father didn`t love me either because he never did anything to help me.
I felt so ashamed and guilty afterwards, I put the Bible out of sight to ease the guilt.
Its gone with me to many homes over the years and by chance I came across it recently.
I saw the stubs from the torn pages and felt such empathy for the child I was then.
I`m sure God forgave her the second she did it for surely He would of understood she was carrying more than she could bear.
having both a Mother who was never happy with me and a Father that never lifted a finger to help. I cried more and more when I was by myself. I tried not to cry in front of her as I had learned it made her madder, my emotions must never be addressed before hers and a young child's outward distress may easily do that so she threatened me and shouted even my sobs into submission. Even now I rarely sob noisily and when I do it is such a release. Mostly I just let the tears roll down my cheeks impassively.
I felt so ashamed and guilty afterwards, I put the Bible out of sight to ease the guilt.
Its gone with me to many homes over the years and by chance I came across it recently.
I saw the stubs from the torn pages and felt such empathy for the child I was then.
I`m sure God forgave her the second she did it for surely He would of understood she was carrying more than she could bear.
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