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I don't think we always fear the things we hate, but we always hate what we fear. One form of fear is jealousy, which has always been a problem for me.
Full disclosure: I'm the youngest of four children and I strongly agree with the Adlerian idea that one's place in the family has an influence on one's personality. My own position as youngest among the 4 children was emphasized because I was conceived during my sire's Christmas visit to Ada, Oklahoma, in 1939. He had already abandoned my mother and was living in Illinois with his second family, but my Dad was a handsome man and a smooth talker. My mom told me in 1965, "When I realized I was pregnant, I said to myself, 'Neither Lester nor nobody else is ever going to have anything to do with this baby. It will be mine and mine only!'" I was her consolation prize and she kept me close.
Naturally, the fact that Mother took he everywhere must have grated, from time to time, on my siblings.
After Mother dressed me up in new clothes that we couldn't afford, bought me a toy football, and had this photo taken, my older sister took the ball into the yard and ruptured it with an oversized safety pin while I watched from the window and cried.
It wasn't a happy lesson, but a strong one, still burnt into my memory.
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