I remembered something that shows just how I got to the point where I believed that ANYTHING bad in my life was my fault:
Growing up, I sneezed and coughed ALL the time. As I've told you, my parents house was tiny, full of animals (cats, dogs, birds, you name it - lots), dirty, full of smokme (both smoked about a pack a day.
When I was in middle school or early high school, my mother took me to an allergist to test me. The tests showed I was allergic to molds, feathers and cats hair, if I remember right. She was so triumphant in finding out it was my fault/my problem. She got me medicine, which helped minimally. After leaving the house, I was treated ike every time I sneezed while visiting, it was an insult to her.
How perverse is this??????? Blame the sickness you give to the child on the child.
Love, Beth
p.s. I also remember there was a doctor my mother ended up hating, and I am sure it was because he suggested making changes in my surroundings.