Pay me now in Journal

Or pay me later

It really interesting, I’m finding that I am forgetting a lot of things about my childhood. Not forgetting, as in I don’t know that they happened, but as in, it never comes to mind.
I was reminded of an incident that happened such a long time ago in an old entry. I’ve been using prosebox a long time.
Anywho. I remember how remarkably influential my parents were on my moment to moment experience and thought processes. Even just a few years ago, now. And I marvel at the time and energy I spent preoccupied with that mind set. I almost called it silly, but of course it was not silly at all. It was an ingrained habit that I learned as a child to survive, and I never shed it. I never shed them.

These preoccupations cost me dearly.
I had excuses. I did. Instead of confronting them head on, though, I allowed them to make me complicit.
I never cared for or defended my husband against his parents. I was too preoccupied with mine.
And if course my husband now will never care for me or defend me.
It’s sad. But predictable.