NationStates Jolt Archive

I was just thinking of mine and as always, I was infinitely grateful that it's over, even though the nightmares keep haunting me.
Disfunctional family, abusive and molesting father, emotionally unstable mother, two smaller brothers to take care of and protect from my parents... But well, I managed school and university and manage a normal life. Kind of.

Sometimes I can't help wonder though why some people aren't just forbidden to have children.

What do you mean was? Surely the question for here should be: What is your childhood like?

What do you mean was? Surely the question for here should be: What is your childhood like?

Ok, then, what IS it like?

I was just thinking of mine and as always, I was infinitely grateful that it's over, even though the nightmares keep haunting me.
Disfunctional family, abusive and molesting father, emotionally unstable mother, two smaller brothers to take care of and protect from my parents... But well, I managed school and university and manage a normal life. Kind of.

Sometimes I can't help wonder though why some people aren't just forbidden to have children.

Horrible, actually. My father was an abusive prick for many years, till I stood up to him. Him and my mother fought constantly..he literally started to drive her insane. He never raised us, and my mother would defend his actions, and eventually chose to forget he did all this. I wound up having to look after my sisters, and help raise them.

As a result of this, I wound up getting addicted to reading books, gaming, and the 'net as a form of escapism.

Pretty cushy, especially compared to what others have posted. My parents made mistakes, where not perfect and where in essence, human beings. But I got what I needed and more material wise and they did what they could emotionally, making human mistakes and not being perfect in that regard. So, comparativily I really have nothing to complain about. It's the right afterward that sucked hard, but even then...nothing compared to what's already been said so I won't go into it.

I suppose I'm fine with how things went.
I'm the oldest of 9, born in '82, with most of the kids roughly spaced out in age - the youngest is now 2.

Dad came here from Washington (state) with nothing, and managed to set up his own renovation business, so money's never been terribly plentiful - but we've been able to move twice, each time to a slightly bigger house, to accomodate the family changes.

Public school for me until 2nd grade, then homeschool for mwa, and the rest of the kids - I liked that because I didn't have to deal with the crap that a lot of kids shouldn't have to work thru' as kids. (I'm perfectly happy to have let my "real-world" troubles wait to start until I turned adult. ..ish.)

Homeschool environment plus Dad owning his own business let me do a lot of work for him - I think I got a lot of chances to learn quite a bit about home matinence, and I guess that'll come in handy later.

Played basketball with the homeschool team in town (we competed with the local and area private/public schools) and was just good enough to get a few awards, but certanly not counted as one of the better players.
(Had a younger brother who managed to be WAY better than me (that took some getting used to))

Graduation came too soon, as did moving out, and here I am today, I guess.

Weird. Some parts were bad, some were good. I don't have "fond memories" but that's simply because I can't remember them, not because they weren't there. Puberty was a real mess due to being gender dysphoric, but I was able to repress that for a long time.

On the whole, uneventful.

My mother tried hard. My father tried hardly at all. They made mistakes. Bad things happened. I'm a flake.
Could have been better, could have been worse.

My friends joked that I was my father's "slave labor". Invariably, I worked with him on the weekends and summers and after school from when I was about six to when I left for college. When I was 12, we built the house he still lives in. I've picked up skills in landscaping, carpentry, roofing, some plumbing, I can work on cars...

Meanwhile, most of my friends don't even know how to split wood or use a shovel properly.

Think I'm making it out as bad? My 14th birthday present was a shovel and a pickax. Really.

well my home life was ok, my dad is a veitnam veteran, so he can be a little scatterbrained, but is a good guy, my mom, well she is a strong lady, and has overcome alot. My school life sucked, I was horribly picked on, got death threats and was pretty miserable until highschool, when I became a swimmer, and then I wasnt such a freak after all...

now I am good, made it through, doing my own thing, and living my own life with no hate.

parents were and are pretty liberal and i think i learned things way earlier than i was supposed to, but they were great. i went through a tough period in my preteens to early teens and was very depressed. my mid to late teens were great and i completely got over my depression, and then some. so pretty good overall.

I was just thinking of mine and as always, I was infinitely grateful that it's over, even though the nightmares keep haunting me.
Disfunctional family, abusive and molesting father, emotionally unstable mother, two smaller brothers to take care of and protect from my parents... But well, I managed school and university and manage a normal life. Kind of.

Sometimes I can't help wonder though why some people aren't just forbidden to have children.
Wow, tough life.

Anyway, I had a disfunctional family. My Father wasn't a good father, very how should I say, not really a grown up. He didn't really show love and stuff. Cared more for reading books than us.

Mom had car accident as a child so she didn't learn to read till early 20's. They told her she'd never amount o anything in school. She had near or about Genuis IQ before hand so she wasn't that bad off after accident.

She showed love best she could. How she learned love is a mystery because her parents don't show any to her.

We moved around alot. My Dad was abusive I heard, but luckily he never hurt me so I only have second hand news about it. He didn't just use belt. When My Older Half-Bro Eric was there at Dad's Wedding to my mom, he slammed him to a wall because Eric was excited they got married and hugged him. Never liked dad after that (not that I don't understand lol)

Most of my morals came from me. I was biorn with a inner compass, always telling me rignt from wrong. It is a special gift not everyone has. Sure everyone has a conscious, but this is much stronger.

Mostly my life has been god;l though only had one girl freind all my 21 year old life. And I was 6 when we were togerher and 8 when we split so eh.(Oh yes, I've liked girls from the beggining, never a "ew girls" times for me)

My parents are both liberal ex-hippies, and raised my family as such. Despite this, I was sent to a Catholic all-boys boarding school, where I had plenty of fun corrupting my peers. My entire family is now atheist. We're not particularly wealthy, but lived a comfortable lifestyle off the earnings from my dads architecture firm, until he went bankrupt in 2002. Since then my mum has re-attended university to obtain a degree in Psychology, and is now a practising Psychologist. My dad is an amateur artist and a freelance architect, he designs a lot of the new homes being erected in Glasgow just now. Me, I flunked fifth year at school, and flunked this year at college. I'm probably not going to get into university this year. If I do, it'll be in the Computer Science department. I've always been considered "odd" by people that meet me, mostly because I am.

My life was pretty much as screwed up as all these others. My father left my mother when I was six months old. She had to raise two kids on her own, go back to high school and earn less money working than Welfare pays just to keep her pride. Now, she has a GOOD job. A college degree and a house that she owns. Two college grads for children and a good life. All this because of an overdeveloped sense of pride. I am very grateful for my mother's pride and stubbornness.

That and lots of chicken. My mom made way too much chicken when I was growing up. I ate chicken 3-4 days a week. *bleah*

What is my childhood like?

My parents are both pretty loving and good parents but they can't seem to agree with each other. I don't think they've had a civilized conversation with each other for years. I don't think they usually say more than 5 sentences to each other in a day. They fight a hell of alot. There'll probably be a divorce in a week or so.

School life is good. I guess I'm on the 'popular' end of things.

I moved once but stayed in the same city so my friends never really went anywhere. But I think very soon I might have to move out of the country or out of the province cause of the divorce.

I don't know what else to add.

That and lots of chicken. My mom made way too much chicken when I was growing up. I ate chicken 3-4 days a week. *bleah*

I had that with pork and spaghetti bolegnese! it does get tiring a bit.

That and whenever I ate Quiche I was told "real men don't eat Quiche"*

I wonder if that affected my development? :D

*in a joking way, natch.

My life was pretty much as screwed up as all these others. My father left my mother when I was six months old. She had to raise two kids on her own, go back to high school and earn less money working than Welfare pays just to keep her pride. Now, she has a GOOD job. A college degree and a house that she owns. Two college grads for children and a good life. All this because of an overdeveloped sense of pride. I am very grateful for my mother's pride and stubbornness.

That and lots of chicken. My mom made way too much chicken when I was growing up. I ate chicken 3-4 days a week. *bleah* We felt lucky if we had chicken when I lived with mom. If she hadn't had friends who hunted we might never had meat.

When I moved in with dad, we had steak several nights a week. We ate at nice restaraunts. Dad drove a Jaguar. Unfortunately my brothers never got the good life because I'm the only one he invited to live with him. I was always his favorite. I felt special as a kid, but when I got older I felt guilty.

Mom wasn't working because she broke her neck in a car wreck. She could only qualify for thirty bucks a month food stamps. They counted the child support my father never sent as part of her income.

some things were bad, some very bad, others were very good. It was eventful, and when i speak of it, some wonder how i ever got through...i made it through, however, that's the important thing. i have had the opportunity to make peace with most of it, and learn to give thanks and appreciate all the good. that's all i could ever ask for. It made me who i am.

Wonderful. My parents were always supportive, despite the fact that I was a complete and utter psychopathic brat of a hellion in my early days. While money was tight at times, we always had the neccessities and I was never without a treat or two every week.

They did eventually break up, but that only made things better. They still get along when they meet, they've both found new people that they and I like very much, and the money situation is much better. They were loving and accepting when I dropped out of high school, when I had my emotional problems, when I told them I was gay.

They don't pressure me to get a job or ever harp on me about my decision to quit school. I'm determined not to let this hurt my character, though, I hope to get work very soon.

Socially, it was a mixed bag. I had a group of people in my youth (Elementary school, mostly) that alternated between being my friends and enemies, with a couple people that were always friends, and a couple that were always enemies. I got in fights a lot and didn't get along at all with our second Elementary principal (he actually threw me at a wall once), but thankfully, I managed to get through it.

Junior High.. Well, there were some problems with teasing, but nothing that I couldn't handle. I did snap and bring a butcher knife to school and threaten to gut a couple kids. This got me expelled, and worse, it happened right before Columbine. Luckily, my parents were able to get me back in.

High School.. I slipped pass Grade 9 despite doing no homework or projects. I failed Grade 10, went to an organizational program, and then really powered on when I came back. Unfortunately, school was just eating my life too much, and I left one day with an 85 average and didn't come back.

So.. Ups and downs, but looking back, I miss it. I have many fond memories of my family and my childhood, and I'm lucky enough that I'm still making new ones all the time.

Military child, moved around for the first 4-5 years of my life, Alabama, California, Indiana. My parents divorced and my father moved to Europe. My mom moved around the midwest following jobs and we eventually settled around her family in Southern Illinois. We were not exactly wealthy, we lived in a trailer on my grandparent's property, not more than 20 feet from my grandparent's house. My uncle and grandfather were farmers, so I was completely surrounded by cornfields, and more tractors drove by than cars.

After living for about 3-4 years there, my mother remarried, and this one was worse than the first. However, whereas my father fooled around, this one was just a nasty jerk, and with my mother being as passive as she is, she has stuck with him to this day. He apparently was not all bad, my mother and him had two children who I would give the world to, if I could. They are 12 and 14 years younger than me, respectively, and I spent much of my teens taking care of them.

My childhood?

Well, like so many others it wasn't picture perfect... there were hard times, and it wasn't always easy. I look back now, and I am deeply troubled by the memories that haunt me... but only because I know that I can never have them back.

Still, somewhere in the green dense foliage of the BC countryside, two boys play beside the crystal waters of a spring. Fishing poles in hand, and smiles on their faces. Pedals on bicycles tremble underfoot, and braches on a path... the dust ankle deep...

We might not always have had the nicest clothes, or proper food to eat... but we had what was most important.

There isn't a day goes by I don't miss my brother, and the childhood he took with him.

What was your childhood like?

Surprisingly quiet.

My childhood - I am one of five children - was as close to idyllic as I can imagine. There could have been more money, and I wish my dad had been easier on my mom, but nothing traumatic. But growing up in small rural town New England in the 1950's and 1960's was a happy time for me. There was a way of life that very few people here at NS can relate to, I think.

I learned all the necessary practical skills, as well as fundamental human and political values, from my father. My mother, who was one of the few professional women in the area, provided lots of love and emotional support.

There was no internet, of course, and books provided the intellectual stimulation required outside of school and dinner conversations with my family.

My wife and I have raised our children in a similar fashion, and live in a small backwoods community by choice. We both have professional careers and the children have attended good colleges on full scholarship. Both want to return home to raise their families here if possible, and I suspect will have families and raise children as they were raised. Maybe improve on our work a little, I hope.

My parents were and are wonderful people. My childhood was pretty much fantastic up until age 9. At that poiont mu parents started a business (a deli & butcher shop) at which point they were so busy with the business my contact with them was minimal. I expereinced abuse at the hands of a babysitters kids- physical & sexual- during which time I began a hatred for Born-Again Christians (which is what the babysitters family was) that I've only overcome in recent years. When I was 12 I started going nuts...thats when my Bipolar Disorder first began manifesting itself. I wasn't actually diagnosed until I was 29. In the meantime, my bizarre behaviour was chalked up to hormones. When the Deli finally went out of business, my parents had time to notice me once more. But the attention was mostly negative, as they tried to figure out how to deal with their now fucked up kid. My teenage years were a living hell, during which time I turned to drugs to regulate my unstable moods...something reffereed to as "Self-Medication" The drugs got harder and harder, the people I ran with more and more hardcore, until I was strung out on Morphine, cooking Meth and generally being a total asshole by the time I finished highschool. I ended up taking time off after highschool to a stint in prison (for cooking Meth, duh) I somehow managed to continue on through Art College and finally cleaned up with much help for my parents. Overall, my childhood had its great moments and times of pure living agony, and it kind of averaged out. In prison and rehab I heard friends/fellow inmates relate stories of childhoods so horrible it was a wonder they were still alive. By comparison, my childhood was a walk in the park, though many who have heard my story (with much more details than I gave here) were horrified by it.

The most important time in my childhood, the formative years up until I was 9, were about as perfect as possible, so I count myself lucky. Meh, I'm alive and pretty functional, so in the end I really can't complain. There is always someone who's had it worse, and some of the stories shared in this thread are an excellent example of that.

My parents were great, really great. I went to a private school, then onto a grammer school....and always hated myself, even though I've now accepted it...kinda.

Great. I must say that I've had a brilliant childhood thus far, with loving and supportive parents, both quite plain and openminded people. Probably helped shape my liberal views...

This topic would have made for a good poll.

My parents were wonderful, however some extenuating circumstances made my life pure hell. I've had psychologists tell me (which isn't very professional), that they can't believe I didn't commit suicide and that I am the strongest person they've ever met. I take that as a compliment, however, to go through a living hell to get that compliment was the most God awful painful thing you could imagine. To this day, I would rather have my arm hacked off without anesthesia than go through what I did then, and that's no exageration.

By my jr year in high school, things got better, but the story continues, and my friends keep telling me to write a book. Who knows... maybe I will. If it could help even one person, it would be worth the trouble.

I'm feeling a bit more talkative this time of night. Morning. Whatever.
I was the oldest child.(still am) My father was immature and emotionally abusive, especially to my mother. I was always his favorite child to the point that he told my mother she could take care of the boys, since they were her idea.
My mother came from an abusive family, so just the idea my father wasn't a drunk and didn't beat her made him good husband material. Of course, she found out this wasn't true.
I was extremely mercurial and moody from infancy. Back then the idea that I was bipolar never occurred to anyone. I fought everything that moved and rarely got along with other kids, though adults usually loved me. I was rather precocious and spoke like an adult.
When I was nine I was raped by a neighbor. Something I didn't remember until I was fifteen and was raped while hitchiking. Suddenly I had the memory of two incidents.
My parents divorced when I was ten, but I hardly noticed since Dad was never there. He would come home occassionally and take me neat places and buy me lots of stuff, the same as he ever did.
When I was fourteen he asked me to move back in with him, my new step mother and her daughter. My step-sister and I were extremely close until a few years ago. A lot of fireworks there. I was used to doing as I like and riding roughshod over my parents, but my step-mom didn't put up with that shit.
Grew up, got married, got divorced, still crazy. That's all, folks.

I just spent five minutes correcting "typos." So much for kitty help. Hope I didn't miss any, but this time I get to blame the cats. :rolleyes:

I swear, at first I just amused myself by jokingly thinking that I was mildly retarded during my childhood. Now that I think about it, it makes more and more sense.

I mean, it is genetic in my family. My brother has it. My uncles and aunt have milder cases of it.

This topic would have made for a good poll.
"How was your childhood"
"Eh, Myrth"

Every morning my dad would throw one of his large dogs at me to get me out of bed for school, thats after he punched the dog first a few times and worked it up into a frothing nightmaric fury of course... sighs memorys.

Sheltered. Nice. The only problems I had were a lack of self-esteem and the resulting weight problem (vicious circle ensues). I'm coming out of that now, though. I feel sorry for all those people who have shitty childhoods, when it ought to be a time of innocence and happiness. :(

Meh, ok; parents who were hard to communicate with, found I was gay at the age of 14, went into depression at the age of 16/17, tried to kill myself a couple of times, came out of this cycle 21, faced the reality that I'm gay, and now I'm much happier.

As for my current relationship with my parents, crappy; can't communicate with them, and a bit of a failure because I didn't measure up to the sporting or academic sucesses of my brother and sister.

I had a failed social life (still have one half of a). Trying vehemently to shake off the horrible memories of primary and secondary school and move on to university. So I am sometimes a little disappointed to remember that some of my old classmates are going with me, and one that I don't always like interacting with. But after all I guess mine was really sheltered and I am far more lucky than many others.

To remember this?

http://home.planet.nl/~laan0739/marillion/images/marillionchildh1.jpg

I remember it, we used to sing that hit off it at school sometimes 'I hear u on the radio' it was Ok for a gaylord I guess.

My childhood was marked by the fact that I'm both German and American. My dad flunked out of college and got drafted, my mom was a university student. Both ended up in Berlin and married, whereupon my birth followed.
My dad usually worked late, so I didn't see him most of the day. I went to the JFK school in Berlin from Kindergarten to 13th grade, growing up with German and English classes. The school has a Diploma and an Abitur (a German final that qualifies students to study at universities) program, both of which I earned.
JFK and TAR were the two schools military dependents went to at the time, though JFK is also a German public school while TAR was a DoDs school (at least I think so, I've never been there). When the military started leaving in 94, a lot of friends left with it, and my neighborhood became decidedly less American (though my first neighborhood was German). That and the fact that the Truman Plaza where all the American shops were got torn down slammed the lid on a chapter of my life. My dad didn't reenlist and we stayed in Berlin.
My parents eventually planned to move to the US, but that plan failed and ended in their divorce. My mom hates my dad now, as does my little sister, but they've never really fought physically.
Somehow, I have a better relationship to my dad than to my mom, but I can't really say why. I've also never felt homesick; I actually enjoy not being at home for longer periods of time. My bi-cultural upbringing has had the effect that I don't really feel I belong to any culture properly... When I'm around Americans, I'm usually German, and vice versa. It's lead to problems with entering lasting friendships, but I haven't witnessed this in others that have a similar upbringing to mine.

Lonely. Verbally abusive father. My teenage years were robbed from me when I had to take care of my ailing father. Neither parent really took care of me other than feding and clothing me (counsellor says I have abandonment issues despite have 2 married parents).

Glad its over but I'm now learning how to be on my own and being an adult.

Comfortable.

My teenage years were robbed from me when I had to take care of my ailing father.

Hey, that's exactly what's happening to me right now. Except... My dad doesn't actually need anybody to take care of him. He's just being a dick, as usual. Though this time, it's been going on for eight years. Urgh.

I don't exactly want to describe my actual childhood right now. I'll give a hint: Some of it was good. Some of it was bad. Some of it was terrible.

my childhood till the age of 9 was excellent. then we moved to Australia and my mum got a much stressful job that also meant she spent more time with me and my brother. adjusting to another country was hard. my brother and I didnt match up to her expectations and she got phsyically and emotionally abuse. four years later im not so depressed and have some friends, thought it is still going on. running away seems great and escapism is very necessary.

What was my childhood like?

My name is Luka
I live on the second floor
I live upstairs from you
Yes, I think you've seen me before

If you hear something late at night,
Some kind of trouble, some kind of fight
Just don't ask me what it was
Just don't ask me what it was
Just don't ask me what it was.

I think that it's because I'm clumsy
I try not to talk too loud
Or maybe it's because I'm crazy
I try not to act too proud

They only hit until you cry
After that, you don't ask why
You just don't argue anymore
You just don't argue anymore
You just don't argue anymore.

Yes, I think I'm ok
I walked into the door again
Well, if you ask that's what I'll say
And it's not your business anyway

I guess I'd like to be alone
With nothing broken, nothing thrown
Just don't ask me how I feel
Just don't ask me how I feel
Just don't ask me how I feel.

My name is Luka
I live on the second floor
I live upstairs from you
Yes, I think you've seen me before

If you hear something late at night,
Some Kind of trouble, some kind of fight
Just don't ask me what it was
Just don't ask me what it was
Just don't ask me what it was.

Suzanne Vega, 1987