đ€Ż INCRĂVEL: 62 Childhood Experiences People Were Raised To Think Were Completely Normal đČ
I went to a friends house. Her parents were arguing, not like angry yet but upset. She was totally fine, not on edge at all, and I was shaking. I went to sit at the stairs to listen, and when I told her it was incase it got too bad and we had to run or step in, she had no idea why I would say that. She went downstairs and quietly told them they were scaring me, so they came and sat with me to explain why they were arguing and that I didnât need to be afraid. We talked about my parents and how any fight usually meant we have to run or get between mom and dad, and thatâs why no one ever came over.
Her parents are the best, they have a room thatâs all mine when I come over even if itâs just for dinner. They never argue in front of me or my friend anymore, instead they calmly discuss the situation and come to a solution almost immediately. They always take care of me. I realized a normal childhood is feeling loved and cared for, not jumping between two adults afraid one of them wonât survive this fight.
She I went to a friends house and they didnât have to ask to eat food and they had food in the fridge that wasnât alcohol.
For reference I moved out at 17 my older brother moved out at 17 and my little sister ran away at 15 because the situation was so bad.
In the 4th grade, I went to school on a Monday. The teacher was asking people what they did on the weekend and they called on me. I blithely announced that we had taken my father to rehab for his substance problem. They made me see the school counselor after that.
In all fairness my parents coached me on what to say to teachers so nobody would get reported. So I had an inkling that maybe this lifestyle wasnt a widely understood thing.
But Iâd say that for sure, my mom finding pubic hairs on the kitchen floor where we all slept together in full or partial nudity, and then getting blamed for shedding pubic hair, as a tween, because sheâd turn it into some kind of Clue Game really made me think none of this was ok.
My best friend came to spend the night in 5th grade and had to go home an hour after arriving because she was too cold. We live in the Midwest this was winter we did not have heat. Her family had me over as much as possible after that. Until I ruined that with behavior I didn’t know wasn’t okay. Yes, they called DHS my mom just turned on the heat while they were there.
I was describing a “funny” way my mom scared me when she thought I had stolen something, and everyone in the room was just dead silent and looked horrified.
Still was another 10 years before I realized she had hurt me a lot me growing up.
The human brain is amazingly good at normalizing anything you go thru.
I remember talking to a roommate in college about something I did when I was little, and I said, “It was when I was really young, like I still had the lock on my door on the outside.”
Her reaction was as if I said… well, as if I said my parents had the locks on the outside when I was a kid so they could lock me in there as punishment, sometimes for days.
I learned that day very quickly and in no uncertain terms that that is not normal.
Telling a funny story at work and catching the looks my coworkers gave each other.
This has actually happened a few times. Now I realize it mid-story and joke about my messed up childhood.
Thereâs so much more that Iâve realized in various ways as Iâve gotten older and learned more about trauma.
Went to my high school gf’s house and her parents hugged and kissed. They legitimately adored one another and enjoyed their time together. Initially I found it odd, like “eww, your parents kiss?!” I then began to realize that it was my parents, who on their good days barely tolerated one another, that were the weird ones.
When I went to a friend’s house, she had a brother like I did and Mom and Dad were married like mine, but their kitchen table was up against a wall and only had three chairs. Why did they only have three chairs for a four-person-household? Because Dad was never around to eat with them.
I hadn’t quite realized how ridiculously wholesome my childhood was, with married parents who were kind to one another and to us, a dad who left the office early to pick up the kids from school and eat lunch with the family, a dog and even a pony. It stayed like this through my entire childhood, too. How lucky I was.
Probably the first time my brother (older than me by a year and a half) was removed from school property by police due to one of his violent outbursts and sent to a psychiatric hospital. Little jerk was a legit monster. At home, he’d beat our mom and I almost daily while my dad was at work. Pretty sure he even kicked the dog at least a few times too. The best years of my life were when he went to live in a group home for 3 or 4 years and I only saw him every other weekend.
I was raised by loving parents who explained things to me instead of “because I said so.”
Even during their nasty divorce, neither one ever said a bad word about the other in our presence (knowingly).
When I realised it wasnât normal to be worried when you went to school incase your mum ended her life before you got home. Twice I was called aside by the school nurse to say my mum was in hospital. Once sheâs didnât come back for 8 months and the man she found two week prior, who I didnât know, looked after me.
When I told a completely normal (I thought) story from my childhood and my therapistâs face suddenly lost all blood. .
My parents were divorced, and my mom had primary custody for some reason. She was never aroundâalways at the bar or with men. Eventually, when I was around 10, she all but moved out entirely. My 3 siblings (ranging from a year younger to 5 years older) and I would go days and eventually weeks without seeing her. My two older brothers and their friends seemed to love this; my little sister and I were confused but we adjusted with each passing year.
The time came for my oldest brother to move out, and then a few years later the other one was off to college too, leaving my sister and I alone in our house. We both did every extra curricular activity possible to stay out of that quiet, dark, empty shack.
Donât worry though! There was a job at a local drugstore that each of my siblings passed on to each other, so after a 5am club, school until 2pm, tutoring or student gov, and sports practice, Iâd work until 11pm so my sister and I could afford supplemental food (we made sure to get two meals at school), and my mom typically kept the lights and water on from wherever she remained.
Now that youâve got the background info, letâs move on to when I realized this wasnât normalâŠ
The same year my other brother moved out, I became part of a really fun friend group! Woohoo! Theyâd come over and *loved* being at my house. I genuinely couldnât understand why. I didnât have WiFi, we had one of those enormous tube tvs (this was circa 2013), and the house was decrepit, dirty, and devoid of food. The only source of entertainment was an Xbox 360.
I should mention that at this point, my little sister basically moved in with her best friends. She was a mommyâs girl, so this separation hurt her more than I was keenly aware of at the time.
Anyway, I longed to go over to my friendsâ houses. I wanted to do the things they talked about doing when they were at home: watch YouTube videos on flatscreens, eat dinner and snacks, drink pop, be in a bright clean place, but ALWAYS they protested: âNo my parents are home!â.
How the hell were their parents always home whenever I asked to come over? All of my friends said this! All the time?! It was so annoying. Iâd often respond with âwhy are your parents always home?â And theyâd laugh, which felt good but didnât answer my genuine question.
The final nail in the coffin of discovering my parental abandonment, you ask? My AP gov class. This teacher doubled as the schoolâs track coach, so he had a close relationship with my dedicated sister and knew things about my life that I hadnât told him. Well, we were learning about absentee voting on this particular day, and Mr Putnam set up his example without my full attention, calling on a few people and asking about their parents and if they were at home and paid the bills. All yeses, all around.
Then to me: âassortedolives, does your mom live at home?â
My wandering mind focused on the strange question as I noticed all of my peers staring at me.
âNo…?â, I said.
âDoes she pay the water and light bill?â
ââŠ.Yes?â, hesitantly this time, in fear that Mr. Putnam was about to berate me for not paying attention. This was a common occurrence.
âThatâs absentee parenting! And you can do it with voting. You can vote from a different location, just like assortedoliveâs mom pays the bill from afar!â
After noticing everyoneâs perplexed faces, I felt a little embarrassed as it slowly sunk in that my life wasnât normal.
I later discovered that this information was shared with the school admin, and it was decided that doing something about it would negatively impact my sister and I, who were doing very well at school. They chose to leave us alone and struggling because the pain that would be caused if they got involved would be worse.
I left my sister behind like my brothers did us both to go to West Point. A year later, she followed me to the academy as well. I dropped out of USMA, but she finished. I try not to think about how hard it was for her to be alone that final year. I learnt that my âfriendsâ, who never amounted to anything, still showed up and used my house to party and wrapped my sister up in it. I still blame myself.
TLDR: my mom abandoned my siblings and I at a young age, we all lived alone in a house with no parents, and no one ever told us that it was weird until my AP gov teacher outed this info in front of my entire class and then involved the schools administration.
I woke up at 14 years old and got ready for school, my mom wasn’t home so I walked. 27 years later I’m still living alone. I got to know and love her as I got older and learned to forgive her. She passed last week and the only thing I would change is the time I missed with her.
When my friends would come over and hide in my room because they were scared of my dad. Most didnt come back a second time.
Watched the show Hoarders in my late teens and realized growing up my house looked like many of them in the show.
My father was an alcoholic. We lived in a kind of small town. We kids had check cashing ability at the local liquor store. Picture a 6,8 and a ten year old walk into a liquor store and the owner knows our family well enough to cash checks, we had family that lived a long way away so for Christmas and birthday’s we got a check from our grandparents.
It wasn’t until I was in my 20’s and got involved with a 12 step program called adult children of alcoholics that I realised that it was not normal for kids to walk into a liquor store and get a check cashed.
Probably when we left the really extreme cult for the almost-appears-normal cult when I was 14. I walked into a school for the first time as a high school freshman.
When I was 12 and my teacher realized I couldnât tell time. She took me aside and tried to teach me but I told her my father already tried to teach me to tell time when I was 5, but I was too dumb to learn. When the teacher persisted, I shook and sobbed and begged her not to hit me in the face if I got the answer wrong.
The look on her faceâŠ.
I finally taught myself to tell time many years later when we spent multiple weeks visiting my grandparents without my father.
When I had a a bf over to my parents for Xmas, I didnât realize how abnormal my momâs version of holidays are. My mom is very controlling and goes way over the top. I had no idea other people had relaxing holidays and that it wasnât a big production. Xmas is my momâs perfect day and it didnât dawn on me how toxic her control of the day was until my bf told me how he didnât feel welcome and not good enough.
Realizing my “normal” stress as a kid was actually survival mode and other kids didn’t live like that.
When I realized I knew how to stay quiet, read moods, and make myself small, but I had no idea how to ask for help or relax. Thatâs not maturity, thatâs survival mode.
Going to church on Wednesdays at the fire department and all the kids got to hang out in a separate room while the parents prayed. It was actually just my mother’s AA meetings.
I was reading a Reddit thread about how to know if someone had a traumatic childhood without saying they had a traumatic childhood for research on a project. And, yeah, turns out my childhood was indeed not normal, it was in fact traumatic and I use several coping mechanisms to make myself feel safe in my day to day life.
When I see my mom teaching my kids, She was way way nicer when my kids missed a letter in the alphabet. i remember running from flying slippers during my days. LOL!!!!!!!
It wasn’t any singular moment, I knew it wasn’t okay especially in my teenage years then I speak to one of my best friends and he talks about how supportive and caring his family are and I’m like that’s an option? I knew it wasn’t normal but I had no power to stop it but I do now, I’m working on un learning it and trying to make myself a better human being, it’s difficult but my friend helps a lot especially if I’m having relationship issues or questions because I’m effectively starting from scratch so I don’t know.
When my mom’s nickname in my friend group was “demon” and my best friend’s parents hated my parents so much they offered to basically adopt me; as in, move in with them while I finished high school and they offered to help send me to university.Â
I’m really thankful for the amazing people that supported me throughout my tumultuous childhood.
Oh. Also, my husband is 45 and refuses to confront his childhood. He was kind of concerned our 17 year old isn’t ready to fledge, because he was on his own by age 15.
I was like yeah he has been nurtured.
He was like… I was… uh…
And I was like AND THAT’S WHY I CAN’T LIKE YOUR MOM.
bwah.
When I realized that me and my big brothers relations were waay more antagonistic than other brothers
Lots of violent episodes, broken bones, unconsciousness from strangling and being kicked from high falls etc (as the little brother I usually was the victim, dealing with trauma now)
I like to believe that weâre working on it now individually, even though we live on opposite sides of the country.
When my friend’s mom wouldn’t let my stepmom talk to me on the phone (landline time), that she didn’t believe anything she was saying, and that I could go home if I wanted, but that I was welcome to stay with them as long as I needed because she wasn’t sending me back there. Then she gave me $20 for lunch, which bought a whole lot of bad public school pizzas in 1998.
Freshman year of college. Everyone else missed their parents and called home all the time. Counting down the days til they got to go home for the holidays.
I finally felt free to be away and was counting down the same days with dread.
I grew up in the 90s with divorced parents, which was fairly common by then. Mom had primary custody, Dad had me on weekends and 6 weeks during the summer, broken into three 2-week intervals. Dad was 25 years older than my Mom. Not as common. Dad ran a body shop, which happened to also be a community gathering spot for the local loafers after they left the Hardees in town for the morning. Even though he was getting close to 60 by the time I was 10, he still worked just as hard as he had when he was young, and I spent all day with him in the shop. He was a little possessive and I didn’t really get to go anywhere when he had me. When I wasn’t helping, I was loafing with the old timers.
One day, I think it was the summer between 2nd and 3rd grade, I asked one of the loafers why some kids got to go to summer camp while I had to be at the shop every day. Aside from the usual, “What, are a bunch of us old farts not good enough company” jeers, Dad interjected while not missing a beat from a bumper cover he was reassembling. “Son,” he added, “parents who ship their kids off to camp don’t love them. They’re pawning off their responsibility onto someone else. You’re here because I love you.”
When school started back, one of my classmates was talking about the summer camp their church did, and I said, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry about what?” she asked.
“That your parents don’t love you!” I said.
I got into a bit of trouble over that.
When my daughter was sad about leaving school early to go to an appointment (because she wanted to stay at school). And in general just being a way happier kid than me.
Not me but my partner.
That telling your parents that you got a bad grade doesnât always end with getting hit, slapped or belted. Or the worst, made to kneel on rice and stare at a wall corner for an hour or two in silence.
When my therapist told me two weeks ago that CPS would investigate if they found out I didnât have a bedroom and Mom hit me with whatever was nearby when she thought I did wrong.
Less sad than others. My friend came into school traumatized because she caught a glimpse of her brother in his birthday suit. Turns out nudism isn’t a common household practice.
The fact that my mother held childhood lies born out of extreme anxiety against me well into adulthood. Turns out when you tell the truth but the answer isnât believable or good enough for your parents, it puts you in a fear state where you just blurt out anything to get away from the threat.
Came to a point where I started to tell my mom that it doesnât matter my answer because she wouldnât believe me anyway.
No child should have to logic that out themselves before the age of 10. It all led to significant doubts in my abilities and esteem.
That time I let someone punch me in the face because my dad thought it was funny when we flinched if he practiced his karate moves in our general direction. The other kid was genuinely sure I’d get out of the way, but I’d had my flinches trained out of me. We were both really confused when the punch hit.
My friends and I were talking about our prom dresses and I mentioned I hadn’t bought one yet. They knew that I had earned the money for my dress babysitting and working as a restaurant hostess and wanted to know what happened to that money.
That’s when I distractedly said something like “oh, I loaned it to my parents to bail my father out of jail and I’m just waiting for them to pay me back so I can buy the dress.” The stares were really something.
Turns out, it’s not particularly normal for a high schooler to bail their father out of the drunk tank multiple times.
Fairly sure one of them talked to a school counselor about the situation, because I was enrolled in Children of Alcholics the next week.
When I told my husband that I sleep through anything because my room was across from my brothers and he used to howl and scream throughout the night. I was proud that I could sleep through that. He also informed me that using a rope tied from my brotherâs door handle to mine so that he couldnât open his door far enough to get out every night wasnât a normal thing to do at bedtime.
When I heard my friendsâ parents tell them they loved them. I never got that at my house.
When I saw the cult my mum joined us into being investigated by the BBC News.
When I found out not every parent bribes their kid with candy to *leave the room for five minutes of peace*.
Probably when my mom told us that her coworkers thought she was unmarried and without kids so donât be surprised if they thought we were her nieces. didnt question it at the time, she gave a plausible reason for the lie. we also didnt really interact with those coworkers much anyways.
fast forward 20+ years later. my mom is still friends with one of those coworkers. so when i was getting married, i told my mom she could invite her friend since we dont have much family here. i asked her later why her friend hasnt RSVPâd and she admitted that its because that friend still didnt know that I was her daughter, so she just never extended the invite.
thereâs a bunch of other stuff but growing up knowing my mom pretty much hid us was a big first clue that my childhood may not have been as chill and uneventful as i initially thought.
On a less serious note, one of my daughter’s friends in college needed to press something down for a while to flatten it out and didn’t know how she was going to do it, so my daughter said, “Why don’t you just put a lead brick on it?” Her friend looked at her and said, “Where am I supposed to get a lead brick?” That’s when my daughter learned that not everybody has 300 lbs of lead bricks in their garage.
Raising my kids. I love them unconditionally.
I donât have a relationship with my parents anymore. Their love was conditional on me keeping their secrets and pretending everything was ok.
I didnât realize how abnormal my childhood was until I wanted to give my children a normal childhood.
I grew up in a small city working class neighborhood. Every neighborhood had a Ward Park, except mine. We did have a railroad yard. We all played there; bb gun wars, hopping slow moving trains, getting chased by RR employees and bums.
When we grew older and left our neighborhood elementary school and went to the city wide high school I was shocked to learn “working class” meant poverty poor and the rest of the kids were into playing sports and not fighting with each other for fun.
When i started talking about my moms rules at lunch in 9th grade and all the girls started exchanging looks.
When I realized not everyone was afraid of their step dad, and had to call 911 occasionally when he went off the dead end. He also owned a lot of guns and would threaten the family with them đ.
When all the other children were out playing while I was inside doing book reports assigned to me by my mother during the summer.
I was very nervous to tell my freshman roommate that I wasn’t going to go to church on Sundays.
When I was explaining certain things to my counselor and saw the look on her face. Sheâs good at hiding it and I hate eye contact but there are times Iâve caught a glimpse of her face before she could hide the shock.
I didnât realize until I was in my mid to late 30s that my childhood wasnât normal.
When people my age were talking in an internet comments section when I was 18 about having a computer in their house and watching tv when they were younger than 8 years old. I grew up poor so we never got to have a computer in the house until I was 16 when we were given it by my uncle. The tv thing was for developmental reasons according to my dad. I was surprised but very thankful because it saved me a lot of trauma from unsupervised computer access. I still got computer time at my great aunts house, in the school computer lab and at the local library. After I turned 8, my dad got my family a tv and there were only a couple local stations we could get, we would mostly watch the local pbs station. So yeah not a normal childhood but not a bad type of not normal! Also we did not get cable until I was 11 and that was when I watched “normal” tv with my family.
đą Gostou da notĂcia? Compartilhe com os amigos!
Este artigo Ă© uma tradução automĂĄtica de uma fonte original. Para ler o conteĂșdo na Ăntegra: Clique aqui.