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Sharine Borslien's avatar

My mother gave me a Mrs. Beasley doll when I was around 9 or 10 years old. I had no interest in such dolls. A few years later, I realized that my mother was grooming me to take care of her (my mom, not the doll) in her senior years. In my mid-twenties, when I left home to live in another state, my mother's health seriously declined. She died at 62, despite my younger sister and my dad caring for her *constantly." I think she was either devastated that I didn't fulfill her wishes for me, or she was an unconscious handler/programmer who went into some kind of slow, painful demise, kind of like the "replicants" in the movie Blade Runner. I don't mean to be disrespectful. It's just that by the time I was 11, I realized that my mother had nothing to offer me except what my father provided for with his job: Food, shelter, clothing, the basics.

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knitterkate's avatar

I am a survivor of SRA within the Mormon church and my experience with dolls is yucky. I was given a cabbage patch doll for Christmas when I was 8. The doll was used as a host and the spirit was a “watcher”...this is what I was told. That it saw everything I said and did.

Dolls, especially old dolls are really creepy for me. I wouldn’t keep one in my house, even though it was a gift from my grandma (her old Shirley Temple doll from her childhood.)

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