Another thought I have had recently is about the kind of baby I was.

I have been thinking about being a loveable baby, and when I think of that baby I might have been, what I am imagining is a baby who feels connected and alive. You feel the way this imaginary baby feels when you are loved and cared for and responded to. That love fills you up with life. That is the basis of feeling you are “good.” That warmth and life that comes with connection feels like “goodness.”

I wasn’t that baby. I was a sad, depressed, needy, lonely, angry baby who was profoundly neglected and abused.

It is very, very hard for me to see that. As an adult, it is just so tragic. I was a lonely baby. I was a baby who felt despair. As soon as I was introduced to the idea, which was quite young, I felt suicidal I was so despairing.

I felt rejected and unwanted. I felt angry because I wanted care. I didn’t know any of the complexities of that, but I wanted it like I wanted food. I wanted that good feeling that comes with care.

That is the baby I was.

I am imagining that baby now and a part of me thinks, “I can’t be that baby. No one wanted that baby. That is a baby who wasn’t wanted.” The baby who felt depressed and lonely felt those things because she wasn’t wanted. So I have to take that in. I was a sad, depressed little baby because I wasn’t wanted.

No one wanted me. And I can’t go back into the past and change that. I can’t make people want me who didn’t want me. I can’t turn those bright patches of connection into swathes of continuous attachment.

What happened happened, and it is over and done with. That was me.

I don’t what to make of that, but I feel really sad.

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