My parents were dishonest people. If it was my birthday, I knew my mother took me to the K-Mart and she stole my toy. She'd put it in the shopping cart and we'd walk out. I was raised with that.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I could tell my parents hated me. My bath toys were a toaster and a radio.
Though I made my share of mistakes, as all parents do, I was devoted to my kids. I walked them to school every morning and walked back to pick them up at 3.
My parents pretty much realized that I would do whatever I wanted, and that was it, really.
I did my fair share of stupid stuff in high school, like anyone. I had a healthy fear of my parents, and I certainly never wanted to disappoint them. That would be the worst thing I could ever do.
I was the child who would leave school and take her clothes off the second I got into the house. I made my mom buy me lingerie when I was 5 years old. I was a sicko. My mother must have been mortified.
My mother made a choice. And when I was younger, I judged her for making that choice. Then I got older and got to be an adult, and I realized that was the ultimate sacrifice that any parent and any mother could possibly make.
If you did something, and it wasn't right, you definitely found out about it. And they were pretty smart people, both my parents, so you didn't get too much by them.
How many times have your parents told you not to do things, and the next thing you know, you go do it? And you realized you shouldn't have done it.
My parents are really well intended, and I think their way of dealing with things is denial and guilt. Nobody wanted to talk about it. But all I did was blame myself.
My parents didn't treat me as if there was anything in the world I couldn't do, except be unkind.
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