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My buggered up childhood


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When I was a child, I wanted to play soccer with the local junior club like my cousins and friends were. My father would not let me. “No! You’re not allowed!” He would command “Because I said so. I’m your father and you do as I say, right?!”

 

When I was a younger child, I wanted to join the Scouts (Cubs, whatever) like my cousins and friends were. My father would not let me. “No! You’re not allowed!” He would command, “Because I said so. I’m your father and you do as I say, right?!”

 

If I wanted to do stuff, his answer was generally, no.

 

I would be invited on holidays, camps etc. Of course, my father would never let me go.

 

Then my father would go crook on me because I never did anything. “Why don’t you go out and do things. You’re always inside. You never go anywhere. You’ll end up like old so-and-so down the road, who never goes out and does anything.”

 

No wonder I’m so fucked up.

 

Of course, in my later teens, my father began to relent, and allow me to do some things, but not at first without a fight, without strenuous arguments and attempts to convince by myself and my mother. And there was always the risk that he would simply blow his top and get violent verbally or even physically. If permission was granted, this of course wouldn’t guarantee that permission would remain granted. He would often change his mind, at the last minute, and refuse permission. Then he would force us to lie and make up excuses on his behalf as to why I couldn’t keep a commitment base on his permission.

 

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