All my fault

I am seven years old, and it’s all my fault.

What is?

Everything.

Everything bad.

That Daddy drinks.  That Mommy hits.  That Daddy and Mommy fight.  That neither of them ever hugs me or says I love you.

That we don’t have enough money.  That we move a lot.  That our house burned down.

All my fault.

Don‘t tell me I’m wrong, either.  I don’t want to hear that.

Because the alternative is too scary to think about.

The alternative is to think of the world as a place where bad things happen.  And you can’t see them coming, and you can’t prevent them, and you can’t escape.  You’re helpless.

I‘d much rather feel guilty than helpless.

I’d much rather believe that if I get better grades, or keep my room clean, or never make too much noise, or  never talk back, that everything will be fine.

I’d rather believe that, even if believing it makes me feel guilty and hate myself right now.

And even if it makes me grow up to be a guilty adult who feels responsible whenever bad stuff happens.

Because if it’s all my fault, well…

Maybe I do have some control.

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2 responses to “All my fault

  • anon

    Ouch. Too true.

  • Al

    This stricks an enormous chord. I would rather feel responsible, overly, and guilty because it didn’t go well, than accept I have no control. It’s harder to accept I am helpless and feeling guilty in a way feels like I have some form of power ie the believed potential to control a situation!
    Ok, best get back to focus on accepting I have no control over people’s reactions to me, and outcomes are beyond my control no matter what I’d like them to be
    Al 😊

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