Or, more accurately: what makes me feel robbed.
Robbed of a childhood filled with actual affection, and praise. It is only now, when I am in college of my own doing, with high grades and no longer in the steep depression that were years before.
Ever worse – they are using my niece to base off whether or not I am “boastable”. My niece is fifteen. They just found out she has been hiding a currently 18 year old boyfriend for the past two years. She is failing every one of her classes. Getting detentions, referrals and skipping school.
Now, my brother-in-law says I am not a mooch in comparison to his daughter. When I would have probably been the same way if it was not for my personality disorder, since this is all entirely due to my sister’s raising of her. My niece needs guidance, and care – not shipping her off to military school. Which they cannot even afford. Admit that you are shit parents, and let me talk to her.
My mother has come to love this show that Steve Harvey hosts called, “Little Big Shot”. Children of various ages achieve grand feats of musical talent, intellect, or skill. And she coos, and boasts about them as if they were her own. However, when I was a child, and even to this day, nothing I did merited praise. Straight a’s? Eh. Learning college algebra at age four? Eh. “I was a mathematician, no big deal.” A painting of mine is featured in the school’s select art show? Who cares.
Nothing I did was ever good enough, and still is not good enough five minutes ago.
Maybe, this is why I crave assurance and praise so much, since I was robbed of it as a child.