I was raised in a loveless family

hollydolly said:
It's no secret on here among people who have been here a long time, that I had a horrible upbringing. No Love at all.. really..certainly no hugs no kisses..ever....

The nearest I ever got to hearing anything remotely sweet, was when my mum said '' you're my favourite because you're my first born''... and that was the closest anyone ever came to giving me love...

Mostly we were beaten... and kept hungry...

However this isn't about me.. so I won't prattle on.. just so you know you're not alone .... I never turned to drink or drugs... ever...I always felt that if I did take to something like that, I would just be masking everything and it would all still be there when I tried to stop.. and then I'd have 2 problems then.... so I'm not being holier than thou, it's just the way I dealt with my life...

My siblings all have had their problems as well stemming from the horrible childhood... one turned to drink and drugs.. ( amazingly she was the child who suffered the least abuse) but she stopped the drugs after a few years.. but she still drinks quite heavily... one brother married had kids but didn't know how to hold down a relationship.. and he was also and still is a very violent person.. can't control his anger... so he lost his kids and wife, and he's now basically going from one relationship to another, with no steady home.. living in rented apartments , and moving on after a few months..

.. another brother got so traumatised by it all, he developed a stammer from a young age .. which has blighted him all his life. ... so just saying that I know how you feel.. and I am the same btw.. I freak inwardly whenever anyone tries to hug me... Yikes, I don't like it at all... ..but when my daughter was born, I had to overcome that for her... but she was the only exception, I just couldn't and still can't bear to have anyone hug me... 😖
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I would just be masking everything and it would all still be there when I tried to stop.

That is exactly what happened when I stopped drinking.
All those suppressed memories came flooding back and I had a major breakdown.
Crying everyday for 6 months.
I could not believe the injustices perpetrated on a young child.
How could a mother and father do such things. The cruelty of peers went on for years.
Eventually I was all cried out and needed counselling.
After years I was sorted and was able to construct a life with some semblance of normality.
 

gruntlabor said:
Freud said that the most important facet of the personality is whether one is an introvert or an extravert.
Like you, I'm a loner. I've often looked on in wonder at the inconsolable, highly emotional, lengthy grief people feel on the death of a loved one.
I feel powerful grief too, but I accept the loss immediately. There is no denial after the first few seconds.
We're all very different from one another. You should not worry about what you feel. We can't help our reactions to death. We can't help who we are.
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I call myself an introverted extrovert who was never allowed to blossom
 
Bretrick said:
I would just be masking everything and it would all still be there when I tried to stop.

That is exactly what happened when I stopped drinking.
All those suppressed memories came flooding back and I had a major breakdown.
Crying everyday for 6 months.
I could not believe the injustices perpetrated on a young child.
How could a mother and father do such things. The cruelty of peers went on for years.
Eventually I was all cried out and needed counselling.
After years I was sorted and was able to construct a life with some semblance of normality.
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you see... this is heartbreaking... and something god knows how.. but something young as I was I knew I must leave alone..otherwise there would be problems later

My mother became an alcoholic a few years before her death... she was a very quiet alcoholic, she would drink on the sly and just sleep ... she was taking precription pills as well.. and my memories of her from the age of about 14 until 18 when she died, was basically her asleep in the armchair almost all the time....she'd hide the vodka all overthe house, and my father would search for it every day.. finding it in places like the toilet cistern... and then there would be a fight... and we kids would have to protect her from his blows..

However I agree with you... it plays on my mind even to this day... ( I never had any counselling ).. how and why do people have children to just abuse them..why ?.. we never asked to come here, if you didn't want us, why did you bring us here.. just to abuse, beat, mentally torture.. starve...( this is mainly aimed at my father who I refer to call the Sperm donor)... ... and leave us as adults with these horrible memories, that will regardless of how we are perceived by our peers... leave a huge scar that never heals... printed right through us like a stick of rock...

I'm pleased you got councilling Bretrick, I'm pleased it helped you, I;m sorry it broke you for a while.. but you didn't allow these people to destroy you completely.. despite everything they did, and intially the problems they caused you by making you seek chemical help in a bottle or a pill, you battled and you won that war.. and for that you are the Champion.. and 1000 % better and kinder person than they will have ever been
 
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I'm an only child who was raised in a household that "mimicked" love. When I was a baby, my mother had postnatal depression so I was raised by a nanny and later developed separation issues. My mother told me she loved me many times but she had horrible self-esteem issues so she couldn't love herself, much less anyone else. Even at a young age, I picked up on it. She made friends and always ended up finding some fault that brought the friendship to an end. She said all the right things to me, but I don't think she really knew how to love. My father was a more detached, pragmatic man that lived for his career so, although I knew he loved me, he rarely said it.

In my early relationships, I often "fell in love" very quickly but ended up sabotaging the relationship. I think it was because I didn't think I deserved to be loved.

Many of us have clearly had trauma in our childhood, and thank goodness most have found their way through it and have come out that much better on the other side.
 
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seadoug said:
Thank you for sharing with us @Bretrick. It is cathartic to do so. Also, we all think the world of you here so the love is coming your way whether you want it or not! This forum is sometimes better than therapy!
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Awww shucks

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This post and many of the responses made me cry. I cried for you and for myself. I have tried earnestly to wipe away so many memories of my childhood but some still persist. I never turned to drugs or alcohol because I wanted to be clear-headed enough to make a better life for myself and I was afraid that anything that altered my thoughts would alter my decisions.

I am so deeply sorry for all of us that have the scars of difficult childhoods. The positive is that we not only survived it but we have managed to have meaningful lives in spite of it.
 
Leann said:
This post and many of the responses made me cry. I cried for you and for myself. I have tried earnestly to wipe away so many memories of my childhood but some still persist. I never turned to drugs or alcohol because I wanted to be clear-headed enough to make a better life for myself and I was afraid that anything that altered my thoughts would alter my decisions.

I am so deeply sorry for all of us that have the scars of difficult childhoods. The positive is that we not only survived it but we have managed to have meaningful lives in spite of it.
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I agree Leann.... and some would say ..because of it....

..and far from it for me to judge how victims /survivors cope with what happened to hem.. but it does get on my last nerve when I hear so often of people using an abusive childhood for reasons to commit heinous crimes
 
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A friend of mine was adopted at 6 weeks of age. She said her adoptive parents tried their hardest to show affection, but she said she always felt something was missing. In her teenage years she said she became the "town bike", looking for the love she thought she was missing. She has been through 2 marriages and had two children, that ran their own race. She is still single
again, and still looking for that "One true love".
 
oscash said:
A friend of mine was adopted at 6 weeks of age. She said her adoptive parents tried their hardest to show affection, but she said she always felt something was missing. In her teenage years she said she became the "town bike", looking for the love she thought she was missing. She has been through 2 marriages and had two children, that ran their own race. She is still single
again, and still looking for that "One true love".
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Many people who are scarred by a negative upbringing carry those scars for life.
Somehow trying to cope with the relentless rat race of life.
 
Capt Lightning said:
In other posts, if I have referred to lasting memories from childhood, and people have replied things like , 'forget it, get on with your life' etc..
They simply do not understand. Bretrick, Hollydolly, you both summed it up it beautifully ... carry those scars for life.... printed right through us like a stick of rock...
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We carry those scars for life and we also learn how to live with those scars.
Coping strategies play a large part.
Avoiding certain situations keep those boogie men at bay.
 
Capt Lightning said:
In other posts, if I have referred to lasting memories from childhood, and people have replied things like , 'forget it, get on with your life' etc..
They simply do not understand. Bretrick, Hollydolly, you both summed it up it beautifully ... carry those scars for life.... printed right through us like a stick of rock...
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I read of a man who remembered that, as a very small boy who had the flu, his stepfather told him to die.
 
Capt Lightning said:
In other posts, if I have referred to lasting memories from childhood, and people have replied things like , 'forget it, get on with your life' etc..
They simply do not understand. Bretrick, Hollydolly, you both summed it up it beautifully ... carry those scars for life.... printed right through us like a stick of rock...
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My husband used to say this above in bold ... ...it's not a case of not getting on with our lives... but it's something that can't be swept under the carpet..people like to do that, put everything in a little box, close the lid, never look in the box again... if only it were as easy as that!
 
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I could write a book how growing up unloved has affected my life, and reading others stories is very relatable.

While I would never be comfortable showing affection to my sibilings or ever hugging them I'm not that way with others, quite the opposite. I'm kind of a loner but crave physical touch and emotional connection from people I like, my kids for sure, but also friends or casual acquaintances. I like to touch, I like to hug, I like intimate talks, male or female doesn't matter, I reach for that connection.

Yet looking for that connection but allowing myself to love are very different. I believe I enjoy short burst of physical and emotional connection because it's safe, but allowing myself to feel love seems to only lead to pain and disappointment, so I keep up walls.

One of my goals as a parent was to break that cycle of dysfunction, I wanted my children to know love and stability. While I was successful in showing them love my marriage fell apart and the stable home life didn't happen, and I see how they carry that damage in their lives.

Sometimes I think it best if my family tree just comes to an end.
 
To add to my reply (#9): I want to point out that I wasn't raised by my birthmother because she was too young. She was molested at age 13 and I'm the result of that. My grandmother decided to give me to her oldest brother and his wife, who couldn’t have children. Daddy hardly talked, but I knew I was loved. The men in my family weren’t demonstrative back then; I don’t think many men were. Mama was more outgoing, social, wise, loving, supportive and fun. I couldn't have chosen a better mother, so I was very blessed in that regard. I don't remember getting lots of hugs or kisses, but was never made to feel that I wasn't their biological child.

Another blessing is that I grew up amongst my real family on my maternal side. We often visited my grandmother, her middle brother John and his wife's house. Their houses were connected. I played with my cousin Ronnie (who was like a brother to me) and his brothers (John's children). Until the day of my 16th birthday party, I thought my birthmother was my cousin. She died 5 years earlier at age 25 of kidney disease. She was beautiful and fun to be around. I loved her so much and miss her to this day.

When I was 51 years old, I met my siblings on my biological father's side. Our older sister had passed away. My other sister (also older than me) and my oldest brother accepted me immediately, despite skeptical "friends". They told me I am the spitting image of our sister that passed! I became very close to them and we never referred to each other as "half siblings". I had another brother who lived in south Jersey, then moved up here, but we never bonded.

Even their mother was very kind and cordial to me. Turns out she and her husband were divorced when he committed that heinous act (for which he was jailed) and no one blamed me for it. My sister and I are huggers and kissers. Me, once an "only child", now had siblings, nieces, nephews, grand nieces and grand nephews. It has made quite a remarkable change in my life.
 
It has been my observation that most families are dysfunctional to some degree or another. But some are better at hiding it than others. Then when someone in the family with substantial assets dies the knives come out.

 
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My parents did the best they could. They had both suffered terribly as children of The Depression, particularly my mother. They made "mistakes." Who doesn't make mistakes? I certainly have in rearing my own son. My mother would say "We're doing the Best We Can." I believe her. Now. Now that I've been through Life. I believe her. I loved them. They loved me. I was lucky.
 

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