Favoritism Hurts, Please Stop

I am beyond brokenhearted rn. How some people can treat their own children absolutely blows my mind!πŸ’”πŸ˜€πŸ˜ 
It’s one thing to have a split or blended family, it’s another thing, entirely, to treat them like they don’t quite fit in.😠😑🀬 But, to intentionally exclude a child from his own family vacation to
Disney World! —-and then, let him in on the “secret” weeks afterward, boasting that the Disney trip had actually been a gift to his brother for his 11th b’day!😑😑😀😀🀬🀬 πŸ’”πŸ˜₯
My son was tearful as he told me this. The sadness he feels is amplified in my heart 10000Γ—!
How could his OWN (only living, biological) grandma and grandpa choose to leave our son out?😒 We have 2 sons!!! Not 1! Two!
……And their father! 🀬🀬🀬 How could he be so unfair to his son??? I appalled, crushed, and pissed!!!
I will NEVER EVER understand how a parent or grandparent can play “favorites” like that! SMDH!!
Don’t they realize the damage they are causing to the child being left out??? These kids are HURTING inside! They are NOT stupid! They SEE the difference that is made between them and the “favorite” child(ren).
They notice the amount of gifts under the tree with their name on them. They notice who, all-of-a-sudden fell terribly ill, and can’t make it to their birthday party, yet the very next day, take Mary’s child to the McDonalds play-place for lunch!
They F-ING notice!!! THEY ARE NOT STUPID!!! We, their mothers, their advocates, their shoulder to cry on; are drying our own tears as were explaining to them how YOU DO love them, YOU’RE just “busy”,..again!😠
They start to feel as if they are not good enough, that they are not smart enough, that they are not worthy of your love…. They recant, over and over, what they could have possibly done wrong. SAD! SAD! SAD!😭
They also begin to blame themselves…. they think that maybe if they’d behaved better at the store with grandma, the ONE time she took them, she would come visit more.
Let me tell you something…..
I will NOT allow this bs to continue to emotionally damage my child! I refuse to lie for you to spare my children the heartache! I will gently and lovingly explain to them what a sorry person(people) you are.πŸ’© I will help my child to rise above the heartache and promote emotional strength within him!πŸ’ͺπŸΌπŸ‘πŸΌπŸ‘ŠπŸ»πŸ˜’πŸ’–
I will teach my children the skills they need to protect their tender, innocent, loving hearts from people like you. I will not allow you to embed your unfair, selfish acts upon my sons happy, childhood memories. I will NEVER EVER, EVER let ANYONE make my child feel unworthy or ignored!β€Ό
NO ONE with half-ass intentions deserves, the privilege, of a role in my childrens lives. It’s YOU who’ll miss out in the long run.πŸ–€
STEP-UP OR STEP OUT, the choice is yours.

πŸ’” Found this! πŸ‘‡πŸΌπŸ‘‡πŸΌπŸ˜₯😒πŸ˜₯😭😭
2, yes 2 of those children are mine and his. It may not be so obvious who’s the very “favorite” here, BUT, it is ABSOLUTELY OBVIOUS that, my precious guy, is NOT. His (full-blood)brother is lying on the back of the couch.
This pic was taken on Christmas Day in 2017. 😒😒😒(at his dads parents home)πŸ’”πŸ’”
My baby…he looks so sad, while all the other grandchildren are beaming!!! IT’S CHRISTMAS DAY! He should be elated! But,… he’s NOT! πŸ’”πŸ˜‘
This picture speaks volumes about the emotional turmoil “favoritism” causes!!!
😑🐻😑🐻😑🐻😑🐻😑🐻😑🐻😑

IF you hug one of them,

Hug ALL of them.
If you miss one of them,
Miss ALL of them.
If you bake cookies with one of them,
Bake with ALL of them.
If you celebrate her/his birthday,
Celebrate ALL their birthdays.
If you “treat” one of them,
“Treat” ALL of them.
If you love one of them,
Love ALL OF THEM!β€πŸ’ž

πŸ‘¨β€πŸ‘©πŸ‘±β€β™€πŸ‘§πŸΌπŸ‘¨πŸΎπŸ‘¦πŸ‘ΆπŸΏπŸ§’πŸΎπŸ‘¨β€πŸ‘©β€
PLEASE QUIT PLAYING “FAVORITES”

Advertisements

Home Alone

I’m sharing this story because I have recently become aware that it could have something to do with my diagnosis.  Whether or not it does, it is still a childhood trauma that I ‘survived’, but not without some lasting effects.

Being home alone at night is one thing when you’re an adult, try it when you’re 4!  It was a very cold , dark night back in the winter of 1979.  I forget the exact date, sometime in January, I think.  My mother had tucked me into bed and kissed me goodnight.  A few hours later, about 2-3a.m., I awoke, as usual.  This was a common thing for me, I found myself at the foot of my parents bed quite often.  But this night was different; my parents weren’t in their bed!  I immediately began screaming for my mom. “Mommy, mommy!!”  No answer.  I was scared out of my wits! I ran around the pitch black house screaming and turning on every lamp and light switch that I could reach. I went to my older brother Greg’s bedroom door and banged and banged on it; no answer!  I remember being terrified beyond belief; I was just 4 years old and home alone in the middle of the night!

There was about 6 inches of snow on the ground and more lightly falling, it was probably 20-30 degrees outside, typical of a Michigan winters’ night.  I had rationalized in my young mind that my mom must have gone to Hamady’s (out local grocery store).  My mother practically lived there.  She ran to Hamady’s on a daily basis for bread or milk, and I always went with her.  And at that moment I decided that’s where I was going to look for her!  I frantically ran to my bedroom to get dressed.  I found a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a t-shirt, that I put on backwards.  I tried to be brave as I prepared to head out into the cold to walk the 2 mile walk to the grocery store;  all the while crying hysterically.

Just as I opened the big, heavy front door, I saw headlights coming up the driveway.  My mother flew out of the car and cradled me in her arms.  My dad, on the other hand, wanted to kill my brother!  He had been given strict orders not to shut his bedroom door just in case I woke up.  My mother had gone to the airport to pick my father up from a late night business flight.  I sobbed for most of the rest of that night and I don’t think I’ve ever been the same since.

After that incident, I became very attached to my mother; So much so that I was kicked out of preschool, because I cried for her the whole time.  When I started kindergarten, I became attached to a playmate of mine, and even though she was in kindergarten also, she was my ‘surrogate’ mom.  I used to tell my mom that when she died I’d bury her under the house so I could sleep next to her.  Needless to say, my attachment was slightly unhealthy.  I wonder if I have suffered permanent damage from that experience.  When you read this, it may not seem like a big trauma, but to a 4year old little girl, being home alone was a nightmare!