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G.F. Morris
Even in 1952 the hospital that I was born in was antiquated. My mother it seems was always just outside of my physical reach, on those rare occasions when she was not at work, at church or catering...voir plusEven in 1952 the hospital that I was born in was antiquated. My mother it seems was always just outside of my physical reach, on those rare occasions when she was not at work, at church or catering to my father. She poured motherly love on me. These one on one time were far and few in between and never enough. I tried to prolong the attention by crying which only resulted in me being spanked (no one likes a loud mouth crying brat). It soon became clear to me the less attention I brought to myself the better it was for me, all the way around. There was plenty of laughter in my house but not by me. I learned not to cry when I was hungry. I learned it was better to wait for someone to notice that I needed changing and maybe they would remember to feed me or maybe not. I learned to crawl off by myself and listen to the tone of voices around me thereby gauging when it was safe to show myself and how I would be treated, these signs and symbols I filed away. Since it was females who God put in dominion over me, it was my goal to one day reverse those roles, it was out of these resentments that I wasted a lifetime turning women into bitches by inflicting emotional and physical harm on them. These dysfunctional character defects were the result of being the only boy child in a houseful of hedonistic women. This book is about the baggage I brought into my relationships which caused a lot of women in self defense to become bitches which is the reason for my repenting of the sinful hurt I inflicted on others as well as upon myself and how I recovered.voir moins