r/ChildhoodTrauma

I (29F) haven't ever fully been able to explain my experience to anyone, and have them resonate. It often feels "not bad enough" or just enough on the edge of normal to not count. I'm hoping I can share my story perhaps for a little validation that this was abuse. (Side note I am in EMDR for treatment and have a CPTSD diagnosis. I am also autistic.)

So I was raised in a pretty large Catholic family. I'm the eldest of 6 kids, and my mom divorced my dad when I was 2. She raised me with her new husband, and proceeded to have the rest of the kids with him. I saw my dads on weekends throughout my childhood and he was a safe place for me.

Once my mom and stepdad had gotten deeper into Catholicism, they pulled us out of school. We lived out in a remote area and had to travel a couple hours in any direction to do anything. So our only real connection with others was church or going to the grocery store. This became our normal, but my mom heavily discouraged us from talking to or meeting other children. What resulted was us living in our home, following strict religious beliefs, and not ever being able to speak with other kids.

It did start of feeling fairly normal and we even went to some homeschool co-ops. My mom had intentions to homeschool us very actively, but over time I ended up taking over most of the responsibilities. I graded the work, I taught myself completely from third grade on while also teaching the other kids, I learned through reading and library books, but never had anyone else teach me or explain anything to me. I was on my own. Eventually we had to move to very small trailers due to financial reasons.

My mom spent a lot of time either in her room or ordering us to do housework. We received very little affection from her, but birthdays and Christmas were kept.

I eventually took on a ton of responsibility when I became a teenager. My mom got into an injury and mysteriously stayed on prescription pain killers for multiple years which led to her being held in a mental institution of some sort for a week (no one explained this to us I just took care of the kids in the house on my own for a week). I went into a heavy heavy depression and dissociation myself just due to how overwhelming the environment was. The isolation was much worse during this stage and without the internet I wouldn't have made it because at least I had online friends. I barely remember anything except the sense of dread I had at all times. My stepdad would go after me with verbal attacks randomly like I was a punching bag he could take out his rage on. His words never made any sense to me it was clear he was inconsolably angry that I existed. He never did this to the other children, just me. Mind you I was genuinely a very good child and bc of my autism (late diagnosed) took Christian principles very seriously and followed them to the tee. I rarely ever fucked up and if I did it was something like forgetting to switch the laundry. Throughout even into my adulthood he left rooms when I showed up, talked badly about me behind my back, and refused to eat dinner at a the table when I was there. He would audibly groan and roll his eyes when I showed up.

I do sometimes have suspicion of further abuse from my stepdad due to me always being very afraid of him and having missing memories of my door opening at night. I've had a fear of going to bed most of my life. I don't know whether this is worth looking into more or how I would even do that. EMDR hasn't brought up specific memories of that yet, but I've only done a couple sessions so far.

Sorry if this was too long. Thank you for any input you have I truly appreciate it. Also open to any questions!

Hey guys, I’m stuck with my parents for another few months before I leave for college and it’s been unbearable. I’ve never felt worse. My mom is 52 years old and she is at her narcissistic peak but started using some manipulative tricks such as pretending to be super nice and understanding just to bring me closer and then stab me in the back. I’m too lazy to give examples but I have borderline personality disorder and I’ve been in DBT for around 2 months now. The second she gets slightly annoyed with the way I breathe she tells me how she’s disappointed and not seeing any progress and they are wasting their money or my bullshit.

I was silent most of the time (I trained myself not to speak cuz it feeds her) but she managed to turn it into an abusive one sided fight. She called me a whore (I’m aroace wtf) and started slamming her door multiple times as loud as she can that she even broke some wood off of it. She “forbid” me from looking at her the way I did and started saying some random stuff I didn’t understand about worms, soup and shit?? I’m as confused as you are but overall it was scary how crazy she looked. She broke some other stuff from her room and just started screaming alone there things like “die” and “fuck you why were you even born”.

I’m honestly scared to go to bed and even more scared of locking my door because I just know she will accuse me of making her worried cuz she would think I did something to myself.

I walk on eggshells every day. I can’t talk about my feelings, achievements, ANY past events (she will deny it happened even if she’s wasn’t the villain there), how much I love certain musicians or even worse my friends (she gets jealous) or that my therapist agreed with me that her behavior is not normal.

I genuinely don’t know what to do. I have some sexual trauma too from sexual exposure at a really young age that some days just takes over me and I can’t do anything and that’s when she becomes the worst possible version of herself.

I also keep telling myself that they are not my parents and actually are just two assholes paying my rent or something, but the attachment still keeps coming back and words hurt.

Guys if any of you have dealt with something like this I will accept any advice. I will also talk to my therapist about this but I would like to hear other experiences!

I’m trying to explain this properly because it’s hard to put into words, but I feel like I’ve never actually lived in my body.

It’s like all of my awareness is stuck in my head, almost behind my eyes, and the rest of my body just feels distant or kind of numb. When I try to focus on my body it feels uncomfortable and unnatural, like I’m not used to being there.

It gets a lot worse around people. As soon as I’m in a social situation I go even more into my head and become really self-aware. It feels like I’m trying to control myself from my brain instead of just naturally being there, and it makes me anxious because I don’t feel present or real.

I also notice that I overthink everything I say or do, and I can’t just relax into the moment. It’s like I’m watching myself while trying to act normal at the same time.

I have so much I want to do and experience in life, but even just being feels uncomfortable a lot of the time. Like I can want things and imagine living fully, but actually being in my body and present to life feels difficult or off in a way I can’t fully explain.

When I was 7-8, my mom used to beat me up a lot. I remember when she used to chase me around trying to hit me and I’d always try to run. Whenever I did something bad she’d always beat me up violently especially on my back, legs and stomach. She’d always pull my hair too. I also remember multiple times when she used to let my siblings have lunch/ dinner but would deny me if I did something bad. One time I shouted “goodnight” to her and my little baby brother was sleeping, I accidentally woke him up so she came upstairs running to me, ignored my crying baby brother, and proceeded to scream at me and beat me up violently. I still remember everything. Last time she hit me was when I was 14 because I cut my hair too short. I don’t remember anything from my child hood. Only these parts of it. And whenever I remember I just start crying. I wish she treated me normally. Maybe i wouldn’t have bpd and other mental health problems.

I was emotionally abused and neglected by parents. I just need to start writing to get everything out of my chest cuz I am ashamed speaking to somebody because my family always make me look weird and freak.

I was also SA by older girl. I was bullied hard in school but most painful thing is that my parents were cruel to me. I am totally fucked up adult because of that. I feel like trash, like that trashy problematic people you see on tv.

Today I will share two memories that make me cry lately and especially last few days while I am in pms.

My father was alcoholic who stopped but he has boderline personality disorder. He often have mood swings and everybody go on his nerves. When I was child, he did not have patience with me. I loved drinking coke or pepsi and I always would sip in my glass and if there was left few drops I would hang bottle over glass until I got even last drops. My parents were annoyed and told me many times to stop doing that, there is not anything left. One time I was doing that again and my father lost his shit. He told me if I think I miss few drops he will give me whole bottle. So he bring Coca Cola bottle and forced me to drink until I was sick. I was crying and looking at my mom who did nothing except asking him kindly not to. I love my mom really much, she was also his victim of emotional abuse but she never did anything to protect me. He was more important to her than her own child. I will never remember that feeling of humiliation while I was forced to drink Cola.

My best friends were taking dance classes for kids and I would go with them and sit and watch them dance because my parents did not want to give me money to dance class or any other type of activity since we were poor. So i just sit there and watched and dreamed maybe I could dance someday.

When I was little older I was driving in car to visit my grandparents who lived in village , outside of town. We were driving on road , and my legs were little band and I did not have seat belt so my father decide to teach me lesson by intentionally hit brakes so I slammed with my head little. I did not have any visible injury but I start crying again. I felt so small, so miserable. He was smiling and said to me that i need to sit with straight legs and seat belt on cuz he wanted to show me gently what could happen to me .

I am 23 years old. Through out my life, or for the larger part of time that I can recall, questioning my habits, trying to understand why are my antics like this, I always felt my brain is messed up. Why do I fear being in social circles? Why am I not like others who can talk to people normally and not be anxious? Why are my habits so weird and unlike other regular people. I always kept questioning my worth.

Until recently I saw some posts and videos related to childhood trauma and adult habits that are actually a result of a lot of emotional abuse in childhood. Now I believe, I might have had a lot of abuse and unhealthy situations that fucked up my neural wiring. But I just cannot recall those incidents or identify those particular instances that might have caused this. Vaguely I remember my mom shouting on me or hit me for very small stuff, me always fearing mom would shout on me if I do something or want to do something. Always trying to calculate consequences first.

For my dad, though he never shouted or hit me but he had this weird fetish of demeaning me in front of friends and relatives to gain a laugh. Making fun of my paintings or my hobbies and stuff like that. Never appreciating me(even my mom never did), as if me doing good in academics and other achievements are an obligation and pretty basic.

Moreover, I don’t know why the only things that I remember from my entire childhood are these vague moments of emotional abuse and some good time I had with my school friends.

Sometimes I also question myself, was I really abused? Did all these things really happen and wired me how I am today or is it just me trying to cope and feel good by making up stories, situations and events that never happened nor were intended to happen like that. Am I just trying to hide my social and emotional incompetence by blaming my parents of abuse?

TL;DR: As as adult I am unable to actually understand if I was abused emotionally as a child or is it my adult brain trying to hide my flaws and incompetence by making up stories and assigning meaning to random events labelling them as abuse. Events like emotionally unavailable dad, him making fun of me for no reason and mom shouting on me for small stuff, me as a child always trying to think of consequences to a thing I want to do and not let my mom get angry instead of doing it for my fun.

Hi everyone

I am dealing with very complex childhood trauma that weighs heavily on me. I really do want to talk to someone to get it off my chest and explore different ways I can heal, but unfortunately I am a VERY closed off person who has a difficult time opening up to others. I’m a Scorpio and my abuse has a lot to do with manipulation so I’m as closed off as it gets. But at the same time I do want to push myself to heal and have someone I know I can talk to. How do I muster up the courage to go to talk therapy? I’ve ever been to therapy ever and it is honestly a super intimidating thing for me. I have a journal that is dedicated to my childhood abuser and I write in it all the time, but sometimes I just wish I could vent to someone about what I’m going through. But at the same time I am SO afraid of opening up and having someone see me cry.

Any tips for a newbie starting therapy would be so very much appreciated. 🩵

I don’t see myself as a whole, I feel like I’m a bandage and when I will heal I will disappear and I will be like I was before the trauma.

I see my identity as a village where every person is a different part of me, there is a king that got hurt by a monster and now he is hiding.

The king is my “true self” and the monster the trauma

I don’t know if it’s just magical thinking, trying to understand something that don’t need to be understood.

In a weird way I want to fully remember so that I can be myself again

25M here, and my childhood has been a pity.

I have had every material thing I wanted and asked for, but I always felt controlled and judged.

My father is an extremely narcissistic person and have a very high sense of superiority. As a child, I felt he’s bossy and that’s how it is. As I grew up, I saw him for what he truly was. I saw him as an extremely insecure person with a lot of void. And guess what, all his insecurities have manifested as my own insecurities now.

I feel empty, lonely, void deep within, but I give out a false sense of superiority for social validation.

I feel very “different” from my friends/colleagues of my age. I just wonder why I feel like I must carry so much weight, while the rest simple live their lives happily.

For instance, as a child, all my choices were mocked. If I dressed up well, or combed my hair, my dad would go like “eeew, high class children are supposed to be simple and minimalistic. That’s what makes children adorable.

So i stopped giving attention to how i dress up. I started going out in shorts and keep a shabby hair.

And guess what, my dad would shame me for being “shabby”.

I remember going through all this as early as when i was 11.

This is just a tiny example.

I still dread how my dad would stare at me with judgement whenever i talk/laugh/socialise with people at functions/gatherings. Sometimes, he would mock the way I laugh. Sometimes, he would say I must not talk to certain people. Sometimes, he would just say “be a decent child”. And sometimes, he wouldn’t say ANYTHING. Just the cold stare. And when I look at him, he would just look away.

And i would cry so much.

Fast forward to my 25 year old self, I am hardly able to make decisions myself, even simple everyday choices, not life altering choices.

I seek public/social validation so much.

I feel like I am incapable of loving or being loved.

Has anybody dealt with a narcissist parent? How have you broken free from the clutches?

Do you suspect that coming to the conclusion "you are bad" is just a way to avoid telling yourself "this is what you did wrong and this is why" because in reality you're thinking at least if you are bad then you don't have to actually take responsibility for doing anything wrong? Even if you won't admit it?

Like, I literally had my birth mother hear me say "I'm worthless" as a teenager and she mimicked me saying it and said I sounded pathetic. So I ended up using the second-person "You" in a notebook to verbally eviscerated myself. Instead of just putting effort into doing anything correctly, probably because it would psychically offend me or something.

Like, maybe when I wouldn't clean despite getting yelled at for it, it was because I just didn't want to take responsibility for when I'd do it wrong because it would hurt my ego. Just like how I ended up blaming my peers for not liking me when there was nothing about me to like because I was annoying, petty, immature, and vindictive.

I genuinely wonder if it's a good idea to even be posting here because a person with an actually traumatic childhood, and someone who did the wrong things over and over on purpose since childhood to roleplay victim hood due to their own ego issues, and/or because of the thrill of the pain, are indistinguishable. How do you know you didn't want to be hurt?

I don’t really know why I’m writing this, but I feel like I need to get it out.

First, I want to say I didn’t have a bad childhood overall. I grew up in a loving family. My mom cared about me a lot and did her best, even when we didn’t have much money. She would still try to buy me things and make me happy.

I have two siblings, one older and one younger. I was always good at studies, and my mom was very proud of that. She would tell everyone how I never needed help and how I was self-driven. When people compared my looks to my siblings, she stood up for me and gave me confidence.

But at the same time, my childhood was also difficult.

I grew up hearing that when I was born, my dad lost his job and the family started struggling financially. I was told I cried a lot as a baby and caused her a lot of stress. Over time, this turned into a narrative that I had brought “bad luck” into the family.

My mom had serious anger issues. She would get extremely upset over small things, like if I dropped food by mistake. She yelled a lot, especially when we didn’t move fast enough or didn’t listen immediately. She would call us horrible names — things no child should hear. Names like slut and whore.

Mornings were especially stressful. She had to get all three of us ready for school — lunches, hair, everything — and she was always rushing. If we weren’t quick enough, she would scream constantly. That sense of urgency never left me.

There was also physical punishment. She hit us with slippers, sometimes repeatedly, until we apologized. To be fair, I did talk back sometimes, but still… it was intense.

One thing I’ve noticed about myself started very early.

I remember in second grade, I ran into my class teacher in a market. I didn’t say hello or introduce her to my mom. Later, my mom pointed it out and said I should have. That one small thing stayed with me. I cried about it for days — probably 10 days — and avoided talking to people because I felt I had made a mistake.

Since then, I’ve had many phases like that. I’ll fixate on something small I did wrong, replay it over and over, and end up isolating myself.

Now that I’m older (I’m 40), I can see her life differently. She had no help. My dad didn’t support her with the house or kids. She became more and more isolated over time. I think she was overwhelmed, stuck, and had no outlet.

But even understanding that doesn’t undo the impact.

To this day, I can’t relax. I rush everything. People always tell me to slow down, but I physically can’t.

I also struggle being around too many people. Even small conflicts make me anxious, and I replay them in my head over and over.

She’s not alive anymore, and I sometimes think about how her whole life revolved around us, without anything for herself.

I don’t really know what I’m looking for by posting this. Maybe just trying to understand why I am the way I am.

Recently, I've been actually thinking(or less so thinking and more so plagued by) my pretty freshly discovered csa committed by my father on me for a large portion of my life. When I first discovered it, there was a mix of shock, dissociation, and dread that tapered off within a week and I went on like nothing happened --- until these last couple of weeks. I get worse nightmares that I remember more vividly, dissociate more, have more entire breakdowns, and sometimes I get really bad urges to cut myself again...

For context, I have sh-ed in that form on and off since middle school, and have been really good at being clean for the last months, but it seems to be faltering. I should also add that I am diagnosed BPD. It just feels eventual, even when I have an incredible and caring partner, or am able to actually make art like I always told myself I would do. It's like I'll always end up back at a place where I can't even remember the memories of what he did, but that cosmically horrific sinking feeling takes over all of my senses.

I guess I'm just asking for general advice and what not.

Thank you