Some might be wonderin, am I be an adoolt babee? Question, question!
The answer is...yes-no.
I didn't really have much of a choice in the matter. I essentially had it branded into me as an infant via an attachment disorder that's left this permanent..."hole" if you will inside of my psyche. That hole can never be filled in, no matter if I spent the rest of my life trying to recreate, simulate or fantasize about that missing part of my life...yeah, it can never be filled in, it can never be reclaimed, it is permanent, it is apart of who I am.
That "hole" wound up being created largely because my mom had a complete asshole/moron for a doctor. Apparently, according to her, the doctor said I wasn't likely going to survive, was very likely going to die, probably not even make it through child birth and, even if I did, I'd probably be retarded, or deformed or some other horrible thing would be wrong with me, all stemming from the fact that she kept going into labor early and I guess they had to use these drugs to make her stop, but as a side effect I guess they could really screw the baby up (me).
So, as such, I was named "Matthew" when I was born, which means "gift from God", because apparently I wasn't even supposed to make it that far.
But the idiot doctor, even after I was born and determined to be all shades of healthy, still insisted that I would very likely still die and it wasn't likely I would live very long.
So, that in turn slapped my mom up long side the head with some major postpartum depression coupled with the fact that she didn't want to get attached to me since she thought I was going to die and, according to her, we didn't really "bond" at all because of that, in the way she did with my brother and sister. So for most of my first year I was basically looked after by my dad who essentially just set me down someplace while he did other things and I had very little contact with my parents at all until after that first year and they figured I was going to stick around.
On top of it, I was nearly blind since birth and nobody bothered to figure that out until I was like 3 years old, so for the longest time everyone thought I had something "wrong" with me because I didn't interact and play like "normal" babies and I guess they thought I was retarded or something because of what the doctor said, which just contributed to the overall neglect...until they finally took me to an eye doctor who basically told my parents that they were idiots for not taking me in to see him sooner and that I was almost effectively blind without glasses.
So then, after that, suddenly I became "normal" and...oh yeah, my sister was born when I was 2 and my parents apparently couldn't handle having two babies at once (she was an "accident") so when I was two I was basically forced out of diapers and forced out of the small semblance of quasi babyhood that I had, which wasn't much.
From then on and throughout the majority of my childhood/teens I was almost always expected to act "grown up" and was usually punished/tormented/humiliated in various ways if I acted at all childish or babyish. My dad used to do this thing where he would flick his pointer finger into the side of my head if I wasn't acting mature enough.
So while most kids grow up with imaginary friends, I wound up growing up with imaginary mommy and daddy figures that were based on characters and such from television shows, movies and cartoons, that cared for me, loved me and babied me.
Long story short, I was effectively "made" into an adult baby since birth and certainly not by choice.
It's not entirely a bad thing though, that "hole" inside my psyche is the source from which I draw my wondrous Invective Word Art which I very much enjoy and would not ever want to give up.
So, on the one side, there is a constant wanton desire to surround myself with all things innocent, kyoot, cuddly, childish, warm, loving and caring, but on the flip side I generally don't really do any typical adult baby things, like wear diapers, suck on pacifiers, wear baby clothes, etc, etc. Primarily because I know it's not ever going to fill in that "hole" and mostly because I think it would just be painful for me, like slapping myself across the face with a horrible unending reminder of what's missing inside me.
The answer is...yes-no.
I didn't really have much of a choice in the matter. I essentially had it branded into me as an infant via an attachment disorder that's left this permanent..."hole" if you will inside of my psyche. That hole can never be filled in, no matter if I spent the rest of my life trying to recreate, simulate or fantasize about that missing part of my life...yeah, it can never be filled in, it can never be reclaimed, it is permanent, it is apart of who I am.
That "hole" wound up being created largely because my mom had a complete asshole/moron for a doctor. Apparently, according to her, the doctor said I wasn't likely going to survive, was very likely going to die, probably not even make it through child birth and, even if I did, I'd probably be retarded, or deformed or some other horrible thing would be wrong with me, all stemming from the fact that she kept going into labor early and I guess they had to use these drugs to make her stop, but as a side effect I guess they could really screw the baby up (me).
So, as such, I was named "Matthew" when I was born, which means "gift from God", because apparently I wasn't even supposed to make it that far.
But the idiot doctor, even after I was born and determined to be all shades of healthy, still insisted that I would very likely still die and it wasn't likely I would live very long.
So, that in turn slapped my mom up long side the head with some major postpartum depression coupled with the fact that she didn't want to get attached to me since she thought I was going to die and, according to her, we didn't really "bond" at all because of that, in the way she did with my brother and sister. So for most of my first year I was basically looked after by my dad who essentially just set me down someplace while he did other things and I had very little contact with my parents at all until after that first year and they figured I was going to stick around.
On top of it, I was nearly blind since birth and nobody bothered to figure that out until I was like 3 years old, so for the longest time everyone thought I had something "wrong" with me because I didn't interact and play like "normal" babies and I guess they thought I was retarded or something because of what the doctor said, which just contributed to the overall neglect...until they finally took me to an eye doctor who basically told my parents that they were idiots for not taking me in to see him sooner and that I was almost effectively blind without glasses.
So then, after that, suddenly I became "normal" and...oh yeah, my sister was born when I was 2 and my parents apparently couldn't handle having two babies at once (she was an "accident") so when I was two I was basically forced out of diapers and forced out of the small semblance of quasi babyhood that I had, which wasn't much.
From then on and throughout the majority of my childhood/teens I was almost always expected to act "grown up" and was usually punished/tormented/humiliated in various ways if I acted at all childish or babyish. My dad used to do this thing where he would flick his pointer finger into the side of my head if I wasn't acting mature enough.
So while most kids grow up with imaginary friends, I wound up growing up with imaginary mommy and daddy figures that were based on characters and such from television shows, movies and cartoons, that cared for me, loved me and babied me.
Long story short, I was effectively "made" into an adult baby since birth and certainly not by choice.
It's not entirely a bad thing though, that "hole" inside my psyche is the source from which I draw my wondrous Invective Word Art which I very much enjoy and would not ever want to give up.
So, on the one side, there is a constant wanton desire to surround myself with all things innocent, kyoot, cuddly, childish, warm, loving and caring, but on the flip side I generally don't really do any typical adult baby things, like wear diapers, suck on pacifiers, wear baby clothes, etc, etc. Primarily because I know it's not ever going to fill in that "hole" and mostly because I think it would just be painful for me, like slapping myself across the face with a horrible unending reminder of what's missing inside me.


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