I Wasn’t A Bad Kid

Coffee is therapy. Read along as I relate and offer affirmation to the struggles of living with Complex PTSD over my morning coffee.

I want to share a story.

My mother died when I was born and I was raised by my father. While my father didn’t physically abuse me, his emotional abuse and neglect haunt me as triggers to this day. At age 10 he worked third shift and left me home alone each night. Then, he moved to second shift hours and worked all afternoon after I was home from school until 11pm at night.

One night, I went to a friends house in the apartments that I lived in and lost track of the time, when as I ran down the path towards my door I realized my dad’s car was home.

I found the door locked. My key did not work. After what felt like hours of banging on the door in tears thinking I would be left outside for the night my dad finally let me in. That was when I saw the duct tape he had put on the deadbolt to make sure it didn’t move.

His first response was not fear and concern that his young child was gone at such a late hour, instead he locked me out. His actions and treatment of me as a child followed me into adulthood and filled my head with beliefs about myself as a child that I have to actively counter.

I have had moments in therapy where my therapist has stopped me from judging myself as a child and reminded me that I was not a bad kid. I was not taken care of, and that is not my fault. There is a BIG different.

I share this to help you understand it isn’t your fault either. You were a great kid, it was the adults in your life who let you down. Try to remember that and sit with your inner self a little bit today.



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