My Lost Childhood

I watched my childhood home videos. It opened my eyes to who I am. I am the scapegoat, the lost child, always in the background, my voice never mattering more than what the grownups wanted out of me. As long as I was sitting quietly, acting cute, learning to do new things as a baby, I was welcome. But with the pain behind my eyes and the longing for attention in every episode that was fully centered around my brother, I was slowly dying. When my sister snapped annoyedly at me for not behaving in line, I sneered devilishly at her and continued. I had no sense of being enough as I was. The only times I enthused about anything was when we were being treated with toys or snacks. It hit me that my mother only saw me as a tool for her interest when, as a 9 month old baby I sat coldly in her arms as she tossed me around and used me as a pawn for my 2 year old brother to show affection to, that when he hugged me my face scrunched up in pain at human touch. But they didn't notice it, and my mom made him stop because she said I did not like it. I know that I needed it desperately. But she probably never gave it. Just placed me down coldly in my crib as scheduled every day and night, with an occasional coo to remind herself that babies enjoyed cooing.

I am in pain from that revelation, and I know I lost so much. Lisa Romano said on Facebook, just in time, that people who call you selfish for voicing your feelings, hate being honest about their own and you need to know it is okay to have them. So I stay away. From my adoptive family, my husband's, my relatives... I need to validate my feelings as real. To heal. I hugged my daughter so tight, and knew she needed it even if she tried pushing away with vigor. I will keep showing her affection until she accepts it.