My self esteem has been trash since I was six years old and got worse. My best friend, My dad, came into my room at night asking me if I wanted to stay with mom or go with him. I didn't understand what was going on and said to wait till morning so I could sleep. Next day I woke up and found he left the family.
I wasn't good enough for him to wait and then about a week later he was in a horrible accident and died. "If only he would have waited or if I would have went with him maybe he'd still be alive." Like it was all my fault. I know it's not, but going through life cementing that pain until I could see a therapist is hard to let go of.
My mother didn't help make it better. With her own mental problems she would be at work, hiding in her two person bathroom, or plopped on her favorite chair watching TV.