Ascribing Blame in a Complicated Situation

So here’s the deal:  it’s my mother.  All along I’ve been asking myself (since a certain point in time), “Who’s guilty here?  Who’s responsible?”  Because I came in for so much of the blame for anything that went wrong.

I spoke to a lawyer from my high school back in the mid-90’s.  He said that psychiatry (and related disciplines such as psychological practice) are considered an “art-form” in the legal system.  It is next to impossible to sue, except in the case of successful suicide (successful, depending on how you look at it.)  You have to demonstrate that the care was sub-standard.  I pursued Sharon Shrensel in NJ, my first therapist, along this line for years because I feared I had fallen into the hands of a sub-par practitioner. and went back and forth with this for years.  Even here, it’s MY MOTHER.  It was her loopy reaction to being called “loopy”, by Sharon, which she heard because I quoted it to her, that set of the chain of unpleasant circumstances that slowly eroded and destroyed my life.  My father’s actions towards me are most certainly a product of things I don’t know about in their relationship.  I know she chased him around the dining room table once, early in their life together.  He had reason to fear her.

Torture, indulgences, masturbation, sweet treats:  these are the things we did and thought about as children.

My father is not responsible.  Maybe I did tempt him somewhere along the way, through HER.

That’s my final conclusion.  More to figure about the cats though. and my mother’s interference with my clan of the cat husband, at the outset and afterwards.  She seduces every man she sees with her eyes and a flip of a glimpse of a little bit of flesh.  She is at this time successfully enrapturing my son.  I learned this last night, when he stayed over.  Not good to go into the details.  I know at the same time she’s making him feel dirty inside.  I remember how I felt, and it is even clear in his body posture, closed up, self-sweet, hands folded–but dirty and scared inside.   I am too far gone along her lonely route today myself to feel anything about it.  I just KNOW WHAT TO DO. because of my years with my husband, thank GOD for him.


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