What Is The Real Reason Some Yearn For The Good old Days?

You are 100% correct. I don't understand. I had a marvelous childhood. I was just talking about this subject with another retired pilot early this a.m. I told him that I didn't know I would do if I was a child today. I would hope that I wouldn't be walking around glued to my phone. OK, so I grew up in a family that had money and I have believed for many years that makes a huge difference because adults don't have any financial worries or stressors as to how to pay the bills and such, and are able to concentrate more on raising the family. "Money may not buy happiness, but it makes being miserable a whole lot more tolerable." (Not my words, but I saw it on a bumper sticker one time and it stayed with me.)

I don't know how some of you survived. I'm serious. I have never felt the wrath of my dad's belt or hands, for that matter. My mom was a kind, sweet lady, who just wanted me to grow up good and decent. Attire was what concerned my mom. "Never look like a bum or act like a fool," she would say from time to time. It must have stuck that I still remember her saying that to us kids.

I feel very bad for those of you that had to tolerate such parents and relatives with their bad behavior. As an outsider, I ask myself "Why didn't they tell someone?" Maybe because they were afraid to? I really don't know. Why would anyone tolerate being beaten or sexually abused? It's a little mind-boggling to me. I really do not understand. Do you think that kind of stuff still goes on even today? Can't teachers or neighbors recognize children that are being abused? This can't go on. What can we do? Better yet, what can I do?

I am sorry that any one of you that was abused had to tolerate that behavior. It's just plain unacceptable.
Well, I am always correct šŸ˜‚.
 

It isn't just about our personal experiences, it's also about the world in general. As I posted on another thread, travelling to other countries was an adventure. They had an exotic image and I don't think tourists were disappointed. Now, sadly, so many places are geared for tourists, with big hotels, fast-food outlets,etc. It means these places are all very much the same and their allure has gone.
I'm very glad I was able to visit countries before this happened, while the cultures and societies were still alive. I wouldn't want to go back and see them as they are now.
 

It isn't just about our personal experiences, it's also about the world in general. As I posted on another thread, travelling to other countries was an adventure. They had an exotic image and I don't think tourists were disappointed. Now, sadly, so many places are geared for tourists, with big hotels, fast-food outlets,etc. It means these places are all very much the same and their allure has gone.
I'm very glad I was able to visit countries before this happened, while the cultures and societies were still alive. I wouldn't want to go back and see them as they are now.
And let's not overlook the fact that so many places/countries where in the past welcomed travellers with open arms, today, those very same countries are unsafe for travellers.

This world has lost so much ground.
 
And let's not overlook the fact that so many places/countries where in the past welcomed travellers with open arms, today, those very same countries are unsafe for travellers.

This world has lost so much ground.
Actually, there were terrorist organisations in the countries I lived in....Eoka and the Mau-Mau...who hated the British. Many places were out of bounds to us. However, the British were respected. That respect has gone now...but that's a different subject.
 
@oldman, it never occurred to me.

Yup, I must be slow, because the thought of reporting, of telling, of running, of seeking help simply never occurred to me. Killing myself did. I fought killing myself every single day after I turned 12 until I was 17.

I was in 9th grade. I walked to school, crossed a bridge which went over a freeway, and paused, and thought. I should jump. But what if I land on the shoulder? I should jump. I’ll get hit by a car. But what if I don’t get hit by a car? Jump, here comes a truck. What if it misses?

I didn’t jump. Because, if I lived, when I got better, I would be spanked with the belt. Afterwards, I would be put in the scalding hot bath. I did not jump because I could not afford to survive.

How can I explain. I don’t think I can. It was not the physical abuse, it was not the emotional abuse, it was not kidnap and rape by a known ā€œstrangerā€, it was not the limited short term sexual abuse by my uncle. It was not jealousy of my brother. It was not the horrific failure of my life at the age of 12.

Nothing special about me. Nothing stellar about me. Nothing worthwhile about me. I wasn’t terribly bright, or pretty, or smart or athletic. And, at 12, you know, you realize certain things about yourself. But None of these issues drove me to want to die.

It was the fact that I knew, I knew that not one single person in my life would care, not one, if I died. But I would be punished if I lived. And I didn’t want to be punished. So no you can not understand, oldman, because you knew love and I did not.
 
I was a slave, who could I have told? Who would have believed me? I was a small child when it began, powerless. Later, I knew retribution would be swift if I opened my mouth. Other children would die, my family also, even though they were the ones who rented me out to the monsters.

Eventually, at seventeen, I ran away to the streets. Had I not been rescued by the wonderful vet who found me beaten and broken, huddled in an alley, I would have died. He gave me back my life, and I have been paying it forward ever since.
You been down a hard road, one most of us have never known. You've made a remarkable recovery. I'm sure you are a good role model for all you help. May the blessings of the universe wrap you in gossamer wings of light.
 
Every generation lives experiences ups and downs, but I'd take the old way over today, any day.

Our world today is no where near the same as it was yesteryear. All I see when I look at the world we live in today is turmoil. A rat race to no where.
When I look at my childhood, all is see is turmoil, even more than there is today. Walking home from school where I was bullied often & getting that feeling of dread the nearer and nearer I got to the house; nightmares almost every night: wouldn't go back to that for nothing. So my world today, even with all its turmoil, is better than back then;
 
I took the question to mean how it affected me personally. Everything you stated is true, but as a child until I was 18, I never had to deal with any of it. In fact, even though we would watch the news, we never saw it mattering to us. You’re a kid, you don’t think about some of the things you mentioned. At least I don’t remember being concerned with it. Didn’t mean to be selfish or self-centered. I was just a kid.
As a child, I actually did have to deal with my parents failings: I remember being terrified about the unpaid bills, the repossessions of cars, etc. And the news mattered plenty to me: the thought of nuclear war just terrified me.
 
@oldman, it never occurred to me.

Yup, I must be slow, because the thought of reporting, of telling, of running, of seeking help simply never occurred to me. Killing myself did. I fought killing myself every single day after I turned 12 until I was 17.

I was in 9th grade. I walked to school, crossed a bridge which went over a freeway, and paused, and thought. I should jump. But what if I land on the shoulder? I should jump. I’ll get hit by a car. But what if I don’t get hit by a car? Jump, here comes a truck. What if it misses?

I didn’t jump. Because, if I lived, when I got better, I would be spanked with the belt. Afterwards, I would be put in the scalding hot bath. I did not jump because I could not afford to survive.

How can I explain. I don’t think I can. It was not the physical abuse, it was not the emotional abuse, it was not kidnap and rape by a known ā€œstrangerā€, it was not the limited short term sexual abuse by my uncle. It was not jealousy of my brother. It was not the horrific failure of my life at the age of 12.

Nothing special about me. Nothing stellar about me. Nothing worthwhile about me. I wasn’t terribly bright, or pretty, or smart or athletic. And, at 12, you know, you realize certain things about yourself. But None of these issues drove me to want to die.

It was the fact that I knew, I knew that not one single person in my life would care, not one, if I died. But I would be punished if I lived. And I didn’t want to be punished. So no you can not understand, oldman, because you knew love and I did not.
Your life was hard. It's awful you had to go through all that. Are you okay now? Do you need to talk about it in a private conversation? I am willing to listen.
 
You are 100% correct. I don't understand. I had a marvelous childhood. I was just talking about this subject with another retired pilot early this a.m. I told him that I didn't know I would do if I was a child today. I would hope that I wouldn't be walking around glued to my phone. OK, so I grew up in a family that had money and I have believed for many years that makes a huge difference because adults don't have any financial worries or stressors as to how to pay the bills and such, and are able to concentrate more on raising the family. "Money may not buy happiness, but it makes being miserable a whole lot more tolerable." (Not my words, but I saw it on a bumper sticker one time and it stayed with me.)

I don't know how some of you survived. I'm serious. I have never felt the wrath of my dad's belt or hands, for that matter. My mom was a kind, sweet lady, who just wanted me to grow up good and decent. Attire was what concerned my mom. "Never look like a bum or act like a fool," she would say from time to time. It must have stuck that I still remember her saying that to us kids.

I feel very bad for those of you that had to tolerate such parents and relatives with their bad behavior. As an outsider, I ask myself "Why didn't they tell someone?" Maybe because they were afraid to? I really don't know. Why would anyone tolerate being beaten or sexually abused? It's a little mind-boggling to me. I really do not understand. Do you think that kind of stuff still goes on even today? Can't teachers or neighbors recognize children that are being abused? This can't go on. What can we do? Better yet, what can I do?

I am sorry that any one of you that was abused had to tolerate that behavior. It's just plain unacceptable.
Why we didn't tell someone was because some of us didn't know there that there was another way to live. Maybe because we kids from the disfunctional homes gravitated toward each other. It seems to me that I was friends with kids from functional families until about age 8; and then when you start being embarassed to invited kids over because of parents' rages & fights, the mess of a house/yard, the kids seem to gravitate toward their "own kind" (kids that are going through the same thing). And although I was never abused sexually, I don't remember there even being an awareness of kids being able to let a teacher or neighbor know of what was going on. And even if they did, what would such a confidante do? Tell your dad to quit having so many mistresses on the side so there's $$ for the fridge and new school clothes? Yeah, right.
 
Oldman...my second husband was from money. His father was cold and distant. His mother drank too much. She was from money also, but she was "just a woman" and was manipulated by a bunch of men in the family. The nanny loved my ex and his siblings the best, but when I suggested that we take her out to dinner, he was appalled. She was the servant, even though she agreed to take the job and didn't need the job for the money. She had a grown family by then. My husband was devastated when they found his mother drown in the river. His mother did love him. She was cremated right away. The community rumor was that his father killed his mother. When his father met me he told both his son and myself that one should not marry outside of their social class. My husband was nice at the time. But once he had access to the money he inherited from his grandmother, he became a jerk.
 
We were (was it just me?) so damn ignorant
Had a pedant, arrogant relative that was attending college; he made a statement
about genetics, which meant I could not be related to any member of my extended family.

Hey, he was going to college, had to be correct.
He was, given the knowledge available then, proven in error a decade later.
After he had departed, a lively night was held by all.
 
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You been down a hard road, one most of us have never known. You've made a remarkable recovery. I'm sure you are a good role model for all you help. May the blessings of the universe wrap you in gossamer wings of light.
Again I weep, touched by the light of your words. It is my fervent hope, that in my brokenness I can serve as a small candle in the bleak darkness of my client’s pain. If I could make it out of the pit, so can they. Even should we return there from time to time. Until they can believe again, I will hold their hope for them. I will also sit in the pit with them, share their suffering. We can weep together until they are ready to take my hand and begin to šŸ§—climb
 
I'm thinking:
the kids that were traumatized, beat like a dog, sexually abused, severely
verbally abused-are not going to post on this thread?
don't think there are a lot on SF

otherwise, it is a cathartic purge for those of us that got our butts beat-and deserved every whack
'Mommy done me wrong.'
You might call yourself a redneck @jerry old but I would use it to pull your head in because there are a heck of a lot
of us who were abused continually as children and teenagers by our parents so do not make light of it :mad:
 
@oldman, it never occurred to me.

Yup, I must be slow, because the thought of reporting, of telling, of running, of seeking help simply never occurred to me. Killing myself did. I fought killing myself every single day after I turned 12 until I was 17.

I was in 9th grade. I walked to school, crossed a bridge which went over a freeway, and paused, and thought. I should jump. But what if I land on the shoulder? I should jump. I’ll get hit by a car. But what if I don’t get hit by a car? Jump, here comes a truck. What if it misses?

I didn’t jump. Because, if I lived, when I got better, I would be spanked with the belt. Afterwards, I would be put in the scalding hot bath. I did not jump because I could not afford to survive.

How can I explain. I don’t think I can. It was not the physical abuse, it was not the emotional abuse, it was not kidnap and rape by a known ā€œstrangerā€, it was not the limited short term sexual abuse by my uncle. It was not jealousy of my brother. It was not the horrific failure of my life at the age of 12.

Nothing special about me. Nothing stellar about me. Nothing worthwhile about me. I wasn’t terribly bright, or pretty, or smart or athletic. And, at 12, you know, you realize certain things about yourself. But None of these issues drove me to want to die.

It was the fact that I knew, I knew that not one single person in my life would care, not one, if I died. But I would be punished if I lived. And I didn’t want to be punished. So no you can not understand, oldman, because you knew love and I did not.
@Aneeda72 we did not report our abuse because we thought no-one would take just our word for it would they? :cry:
 
My childhood was rough, but this thread is a real eye opener to me. I wonder how many of my childhood friends went through the kinds of treatment that has been discussed here.
I too, have been wondering the same thing. If anyone of my friends were being mistreated, I never knew about it back then and actually, I never gave it any thought. The closest thing I came to anyone near me was a friend who told me that his family did not celebrate Christmas because of their religion. I asked my mom what religion does that. She told me the only religion that she knew of that did not celebrate Christmas was no religion. I felt bad for my friend, so I bought him a gift when we were seniors and he wouldn't take it. He only asked me if I was trying to get him killed if he took it home. I kind of shrugged it off and went about my business. I just never understood anything about kids being beaten, raped or treated so atrociously by their own family members. I knew that kids were being kidnapped and mistreated by unknown strangers, but not by family members.

When I was in college, I had to fill in my schedule with other subjects that were non related to what my life's ambition was at the time. I took a course in Psych I. I guess it was during the second semester when the professor started talking about issues such as, dysfunctionality and people who were co-dependent. I remember looking back and how I thought so much of this stuff was just made up by the text book author to fill the pages when in fact, several years later, I was able to relate to these types of behaviors when I heard about missing and exploited children. It was almost like an epiphany. I had never been exposed to children being beaten or raped. It wasn't even a topic of conversation in our family. None of my friends and I ever spoke about it.

It's like when I was reading a post from "officeripley" and I read the following line "Maybe because we kids from the disfunctional homes gravitated toward each other." that I remembered us talking in class about how co-dependent people seek out other co-dependents, especially for the purpose of being married. I found that to be so melancholy.
 
It is only natural to attempt to find a rational, linear explanation for such abuse. It soothes the mind, removes some of the horror around often inexplicable cruelty. Sadly, in most cases, it falls short. Abuse is about power, rage, victimisation, ridicule, sadism, rape, gaslighting, cruelty in all

its forms, even murder. It is raw, pathological, and primal. Not intellectual. Once you have been face to face with pure evil, analysis is not enough. It may help one to recognise a pattern, but I believe empathy provides many of the missing pieces.
 
It's like when I was reading a post from "officeripley" and I read the following line "Maybe because we kids from the disfunctional homes gravitated toward each other." that I remembered us talking in class about how co-dependent people seek out other co-dependents, especially for the purpose of being married. I found that to be so melancholy.
So many kids came from dysfunctional homes that it was hard to not have friends among that group. As I learned in my 50s, my closest childhood friends were from both good and terrible homes.

My friends loved hanging out at my house. Most people have no idea what's going on behind closed doors.

I married someone from a Leave It To Beaver type household. Stable, genuine, what-you-see-is-what-it-is type of thing. For the first several years I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the love and affection to be withdrawn over a disagreement or unintentional misstep. Never happened.
I had to confide in my in-laws about my upbringing so if they were babysitting when we were out of town they would keep our children safe from my father. My mother-in-law wept along with me as I explained it to them.
 
I too, have been wondering the same thing. If anyone of my friends were being mistreated, I never knew about it back then and actually, I never gave it any thought. The closest thing I came to anyone near me was a friend who told me that his family did not celebrate Christmas because of their religion. I asked my mom what religion does that. She told me the only religion that she knew of that did not celebrate Christmas was no religion. I felt bad for my friend, so I bought him a gift when we were seniors and he wouldn't take it. He only asked me if I was trying to get him killed if he took it home. I kind of shrugged it off and went about my business. I just never understood anything about kids being beaten, raped or treated so atrociously by their own family members. I knew that kids were being kidnapped and mistreated by unknown strangers, but not by family members.

When I was in college, I had to fill in my schedule with other subjects that were non related to what my life's ambition was at the time. I took a course in Psych I. I guess it was during the second semester when the professor started talking about issues such as, dysfunctionality and people who were co-dependent. I remember looking back and how I thought so much of this stuff was just made up by the text book author to fill the pages when in fact, several years later, I was able to relate to these types of behaviors when I heard about missing and exploited children. It was almost like an epiphany. I had never been exposed to children being beaten or raped. It wasn't even a topic of conversation in our family. None of my friends and I ever spoke about it.

It's like when I was reading a post from "officeripley" and I read the following line "Maybe because we kids from the disfunctional homes gravitated toward each other." that I remembered us talking in class about how co-dependent people seek out other co-dependents, especially for the purpose of being married. I found that to be so melancholy.
Yes, I have come to understand, far too late, that your last paragraph is far too true. I was in therapy was a few sessions. I have large chunks of memories of my childhood missing and therapists wanted to find those chunks, explore those chunks. I did not, still donā€t.

The horrors I remember are enough for me.

Anyway, I asked a question. Although, my second marriage is a picnic compared to my first, I always had ā€œuserā€ friends. I asked one therapist why I had such poor people judgements. She responded ā€œpeople choose what they are used too.ā€ 😄

I was used to abusive people. I had been abused my whole life. ā€œPeople choose what they are used too.ā€ It resounded in my mind. What the? It was a shattering insight. Similar to the old saying, ā€œyou made your bed, now lie in it.ā€

I have always taken responsibility for my decisions and my actions. But to learn I had made my self a repeat victim was shattering. I thought about it, long and hard. Humans can change, it’s hard, but they can change. I had raised my children not to be victims. I could teach myself not to be a victim.

My daughter remarked, a couple of decades ago, ā€œMom, you’ve changedā€, after witnessing a disagreement between her dad and me. Yup, I used to be a doormat, a yes man, I’ve changed. I learned to ā€œstand my groundā€. I am still learning. The transition is hard on both of us.

I think the co-depend theory is true for some as well, but not me. I, apparently, unconsciously, chose who I used to be. Then I chose different.
 


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