@QuietMagic
if "here is a complete analysis of who I am and how I got to be the way that I am" will be something that they care about.
At this point I don't think I wholly care how they react to it. The keyword being "wholly" of course I do somewhat. I want them to know that I know and how sorry I am about it. Just saying you're sorry is sometimes not enough. People wanna know what you are sorry for. I'm not sorry for my personality disorder I am just so sorry how much it has discouraged others.
Agreeing with the idea that this is a very complex endeavor with numerous intersections, I already understand that people are earnest with your own survival and my past will probably have little impact.
The depth that I go into this for myself will be beneficial for me. There's a part of me that thinks if I share it accurately perhaps it can help somebody else relate and understand things about themselves better. That could just be the grandiose nature of narcissism.
It is really strange that my earliest memory. It seems I was about 3 years old. Perhaps it was just a dream well perhaps I was much older but the memory goes like this.
The background is of an alcoholic father who all my older siblings say beat my mother and he lost 130 acre farm through irresponsibility. I was the baby of seven.
My 2 middle brothers we're pulling me in a wagon.. It was One of those wagons that had the wooden sides like a western theme that the sides would pull out. I don't remember the farm but my father lost it irresponsibly. For some reason I remember this road they were pulling me up on and it went uphill and they were arguing about who's going to pull me. I've never made it back to that farm to see if there was a little hill by the front door. But they decided to turn around to go downhill. After a while my middle sister joined us. When she did, we were a good bit down the inclined Rd. And they asked her to bring you back to the house. And they all got to find in and are you in and carrying on and I remember I started crying like a baby. And finally my sister begrudgingly grabbed a wagon and started back towards the house.
I remember that as my very first memory in life; not being wanted. I don't know how accurate it is. I don't know if 3 year olds can remember details. At about 3 years old, my parents separated and all the children went and lived with my mother in the low income projects and she worked all day. At those projects I had a little western wagon like that.
That sister hated my guts as our adolescent ages approached and onward into adulthood. In reflection, I understand sibling rivalries are quite common. But that hatefulness had an effect on me.