One time my therapist, not coincidentally the one I ended up firing for being crazy, told me that she didn’t understand why I made my 9th step amends to my parents. She felt that because they were the adults and I was the kid, at least initially, that I had absolutely no part in our shitty relationship.
“No person who gets abused is responsible for what they do.”
I told her if that’s true, then no person in my entire family is responsible for their actions. As far as I remember, she had no answer for that.
I have a special hate-on for people who use their shitty childhoods as an excuse to be asshats and failures. First of all, it sets a dangerous precedent, and second of all, it ruins everything for the rest of us. There are a lot of people out there who had moderately bad to totally horrible experiences in their youth that didn’t turn into unending fuckbags.
This is why I get squeamish whenever people compliment me on how far I’ve come, or making something out of nothing. A person shouldn’t get compliments on shit they’re supposed to do. Staying in school, not committing felonies, or at least doing the white girl thing and not getting caught, is all shit a person is expected to do in our society.
The fact that somebody punched me around doesn’t negate that expectation, and I have no fucking sympathy for anybody that acts like it does.
So, if you feel entitled to a neverending childhood just because you didn’t get the one you were meant to have, it’s probably time to therapist up. A real one, not a crazy one.