Memes

I've talked to a lot of people from all walks of life, and I've come to realize that one of the main things that sets people apart in adulthood is whether they were loved as kids. Those that were, and those that weren't, might as well come from different planets. It's so bad I very much go out of my way to avoid the topic.

They: Yeah I didn't always get along with my parents.
Me: So... how often did they beat you up?
They: Oh no, they never beat me. But my mother criticized me a lot, and my dad moped, sometimes.
Me: :-|
They: I'm kinda traumatized from all this.
Me: So... where did you spend last Christmas?
They: Well, among other things, I visited my parents, of course.
Me (who has cut of all communication for many years): o_O

Shit she's going to know I'm high...

I would come home from school and watch TV or play around online until dad got home.

one day he came home after I was online and ripped the phone cable out of the wall and whipped me with it until I was bleeding. why? because he tried to call home and ask if I wanted anything for dinner. I got the whipping for dinner.

I was 12.

from ages 13-19 I had elaborate plans of how I would kill him and get away with it. every time he would scream at me, every time he would beat me, I would imagine what it would feel like to cut off his arms and legs while he was alive.

at 20 I left home. I'm much better now and don't have such dark thoughts anymore.

he told me years later that he was afraid of me because of the blank look I gave him. I told him he had every reason to be afraid with the same dead eyes and left it at that.

I learned so many life skills during that time in my life, and honestly can say in an emergency scenario I have no barriers to killing someone. I also do well in emergencies and keep a level head because of the years of physical and mental trauma.

interestingly enough I've used my "stare" at work in an office environment when a manager was threatening my job based on interoffice politics. I looked him dead in the eyes and told him I don't play games like him. If I want something done, I'll do it myself. Then casually asked him what kind of milage he gets on his car. Dude was spooked and left me alone lol.

my point is, trauma can be a strength that can be drawn from like a well if you're in need of it.

Who was happy when their parents came home, and who sometimes peed their pants from sheer terror?
That's a real distinction to make.

When you hear your parents and sibling arguing in the house, and quickly take your phone out and open the dialer app "just in case"

Funny story, this is one of the major reasons I filed for divorce.

some of my earliest memories are lying in bed in terror waiting for the sound of my abusive fathers work truck to pull into the driveway. I got to where like a dog i could identify his specific truck as soon as it was in audible range. Sometimes I could pretend to be asleep and I might get left alone a while.

It's many decades later, I live in a very safe place and the patriarch who rules the roost here doesn't even raise his voice much less hit me. All the same i get a sharp spike of fear every time he pulls up in the driveway. It took me a few years of work and therapy to be able to stay downstairs and not have to flee upstairs when he got home.

It's shameful how many people's first bullies are the people they need to look to for safety. It really breaks you.

Replace mom with dad, and this is my childhood.

You don't know trauma unless you've been raised by a bipolar narcissist with anxiety and anger issues. My dad was a master at sucking all the energy out of a room and ruining the vibe with his selfish, fear-mongering bullshit.

We had a long driveway. I quickly learned how to position myself to be able to see out the window and prepare before being seen.

That was also around the same time I learned how to quickly make a bug-out bag, a bit of cryptography(My dad and I had a code language, just in case), and just how far I can be pushed before physical response is my only response.

There isn't enough therapy in the world.

This is how I knew I didn't live in a happy home. My brother and I got along well when our father was not around. (I wouldn't say he was an abusive father. Just not a person anyone enjoys being around for extended time. He's an ex military man who's life was too rough for anyone to come out happy. And emotionally cold.)

Had to have the landlord come and fix a relatively minor issue with our shower. About lost my mind making sure the place looked presentable for him to fix something he's responsible for. Trauma sucks

The key enter the front door, and shit's about to get real.

Man, my poor daughter.

This was her life. When her mom died she dealt with the guilt that followed her relief.

Having known her mom all of my life and seen everything she went through as a child, I wish some kind of ghost of Christmas past could take my daughter and show her so she can see that her mom wasn’t always like that. That at one time she was a little girl waiting on the day she could escape her own mom. At one point she was young and a lot like her.

I always figured they’d get it right when she grew up, but she never got that chance.

FUCK CANCER. Seriously.