I remember growing up and always feeling less than. I grew up in a family that was not rich but not considered poor. When my parents split, my mother struggled to get by. I wanted things. I always looked at myself as poor because I didn’t have the things others had. I didn’t have the clothes, sneakers, money. All those external things that I thought would make me happy. I realize today that I blamed my Mother for years for my troubles and for eventually abandoning me.
I never looked at the part I played in her decision to send me to live with my father.
My feelings didn’t change much when I moved with my Father either. I still wanted things, I was still trying to fill a void with stuff. I didn’t realize then that I would never be satisfied. That dressing up the outside and having stuff…
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