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Reflection from July 29th, 2012 @ Age 31


I hate money because I always felt it came before me when I was a little girl growing up in this cruel world.  Other kids got to have their mom home with them and I did not because of money.  Other kids got to be more protected because they got to have their mom home with them because of money.  I was molested by the neighbor-girl because my parents let me play over at her house.  They let me over to her house when they knew there was no supervision, that —‘s mom had shady boyfriends, that — taught me all about stealing, which my mom found out about when I was stealing money from her purse at —’s request.  And then I got in trouble with my parents even though it was their fault for letting me hang out with a kid like her.  A girl like her who had a mom who was never around and who had boyfriends who molested her daughter(s).  A mom who was never around and always put herself before her daughters, no doubt, having some root based in evil/greed/money.  It’s fucking bullshit.

I just had a horrible dream about my creepy fucking Uncle Joe.  Yes, my child-molesting Catholic priest of an Uncle Joe.  My mom’s whole side of the family was there, with all their fucking horrible dysfunction, and it was motherfucking horrible.  There is so much my mom’s parents did not protect her from when she was little, that her faults as a parent in comparison pale.  And yet, somehow, that does not take my pain away, that my parents were not around due to money, or at least my mom wasn’t around because of money, and partly also because of my father’s horrible innate human nature.  Which no doubt stems from his horrible childhood due to his horrible parents, but honestly what the fuck ever.  Decisions he made left me unprotected as a child who did not have the tools to protect herself from the world.  Part of that is because I was a child, a huge part, because I had a mental illness/emotional disorder that was ignored and went untreated. 

I’m angry with my parents because for whatever reason, I was not protected the way I deserved to be protected as a child.  And so when I went out into the world, men abused my body and I let them take advantage of me because at least they were there.  At least they were there to hold, except that they weren’t.  They were there to use my body up for themselves, and then they left me and I was alone and an emotional mess, even more so than before.  And time and again that pattern repeated itself until I took the steps to stop it from happening, which took for fucking ever.

So yes, I am totally fucking angry and motherfucking resentful towards money and towards people who have it.  Yes, that is a fact.  Does not mean that it cannot be cured, but it’s going to take more effort even than I’ve put in to-date, which is already pretty fucking incredible if you know what I mean.