As you may have read from my journal posts, I am attempting to write a book on love addiction. I am currently reaching out to people and asking for their childhood story. It doesn't have to be very long, in fact, the shorter the better, and I am not looking for worst case scenarios either. I am looking for TRUE tales of childhood. SO, whether you were abused and ignored as a child, or loved and well cared for, I would like to know. I will be selecting about 3 of these stories for my book and you would have to agree to having your story published. I will, of course only publish first name, last initial, and you are free to give me an alias.
You can post your story right here if you'd like to share with the whole group (recommended), you can PM me, or you can send it to firstname.lastname@example.org
Hey lj. You can use my story if you want. I grew up in a very loving household. But could tell from a very young age my dad was a selfish person. He used to hit my mum in their room, we could hear it happening and hear mum crying but she would always tell us nothing happened and everything was fine. This was so confusing to me.
Dad was in a band and used to come home late at night and never give mum much respect or attention but we kind of worshipped him and would be excited when he got home.
I grew up thinking that the man ruled the house and could do whatever he wanted and the woman was there to please him.
Dad cheated on mum and she argued with him about it. He packed his bags in the middle of the night and left. I watched him leave. Mum was distraught and cried every night. I didn't know what to do to comfort her even though I tried, nothing ever seemed to make her happy.
Mum became a different, colder person after dad left. Dad didn't look after us financially but he did with his new family. We struggled while they seemed to have everything. I still get triggered if I meet someone who is funny about money or not financially stable.
Mum lived her life through us, if we weren't succeeding she would be extremely upset. There was a lot of guilt for me if I didn't lead my life in the way I thought she wanted me to. And it still triggers me when I do something (like be single) that she doesn't agree with or want me to do.
I don't know if you can do anything with the above but if you need me to tighten it up a bit or add anything just pm me.
I am the middle child of three and the only girl; I think this is an important point to note as it often determines the roles that we take on when things go wrong. When I was six my father left my mother (or she threw him out depending on the story) and moved out of the family home. I was devastated. My Mum suffers from serious mental illness and although she never hit or abused us physically and we always had food on the table, her moods were very unpredictable and you never knew what you would wake up to. The atmosphere in the house was very tense and this was magnified by my elder brother and my mum who fought continually. I was the peacekeeper in the family. Trying to keep a sense of calm. If something went wrong and my Mum demanded to know who it was I would say it was me so that she wouldn’t be angry anymore (even though it usually wasn’t me!). Anyway, my brother eventually left home to move in with my Dad and today he no longer speaks with her. And although I wanted to go with and live with my father as well, my loyalty to my mother (because however young I was I knew she was ill) kept me where I was. This sense of loyalty remains today even though I find it very difficult to spend a lot of time in her company.
My father is the sense of calm in the family. The ying to my mother’s yang. When my home life got too bad I would sneak out of the house and go and spend some time with him (I had to lie as she would get very upset if she knew I was visiting him out of the agreed court time). He would ask if everything was ok at home and I would say yes. I didn’t want him to know what really went on. Should he have pushed a bit more knowing what she was like?? In hindsight probably yes, and therapists have told me over the years that he effectively abandoned us, leaving me and my brothers with someone who was mentally unstable. They said he should have fought more for full access. And although I have disagreed with them as I love my Dad very much, I do know that my childhood has affected me and it is something I have had to come to terms with over the past eight years.
Once my elder brother moved out I took on a much more of an adult role to my younger brother. I had to do a lot more around the house, a lot more peacekeeping and I kept a lot of things hidden from the outside world. My ‘escape’ as a teenager was to sit in my bedroom reading romance novels, sometimes two a night. Reading over and over again how love was difficult and a struggle but the man always came to the rescue of the woman in the end and everything always had a happy Hollywood ending. This helped me forget what was happening at home and made me hopeful for when a man came into my life. My first instance of loving someone from a far [torchbearing?] was when I was about 13, just after my brother moved out. Was I trying to further escape what was happening by replacing him and focusing on someone else?? You can't help but think so when you look at the timeline. This 'fantasy love' lasted four years, even though my PoA only ever once said Hello to me.
I hope some of this is helpful! Good luck with your book.
Last Edit: Feb 25, 2015 10:07:01 GMT -8 by Babysteps
Wow. Another amazing story. Thanks so much phb for sharing it. I often wonder about the role of fathers in the 70s, 80's and 90s. I don't know how old you are, but I think much of their individual choice to pursue kids or not in a divorced situation was more greatly influenced by our culture than by what they may have thought was right. For example, I think many men in the 70's and 80's believed that, right or wrong, kids are supposed to be raised by their mother. Period. To this day, fathers still have an almost impossible time trying to gain full custody of their children. They have the task of proving, without a question of doubt that the mother is incapable of raising her children--an almost impossible task. I have seen this first hand. The mother always seems to win. So, like it or not, that is our culture.
Not that I want to change the way you perceive your past. Fathers can and do step up to the plate and try and see their kids as much as possible every day. But it really is a sign of the times when they don't offer to take kids on full time. The important thing is that you recognize this story and see its effect upon you. AND that you are taking steps to heal and strengthen
It's only fair that I share my own story of childhood:
When I was a kid, I was well loved. I received my fair share of hugs and kisses from both parents, ate well, laughed a lot, had an enormous loving family and for the most part, got along with my brothers. My mother was a quiet, loving, beautiful, tolerant woman who not only adored my father, but "believed" in him. She was the quintessential doting housewife, and loving, stay-at-home mother whose whole life revolved around the care of her family. My father, on the other hand, was hugely charismatic, funny, clever and talented. He taught himself how to play guitar, banjo, drums, harmonica, and even the violin all before the age of 18. He told amazing stories, wrote his own music, was an excellent salesperson and could answer nearly every question on Jeopardy. Trouble is, he was an addict. And his addictions were so deep and so many that they got in the way of what might have been an average, normal life.
We moved 12 times in 14 years. Most of the houses we lived in were big and ostentatious—an odd phenomenon considering that my father never exactly held down a job. None were “ours.” All were attempts to dodge creditors or loan sharks, some of whom would find us anyway and show up at our front door with guns not-so-hidden in their jackets, telling my mother, “We know where you live” I went to seven different schools in six different school districts, had virtually no friends until the eight grade and was a very poor student--I think at one point they considered me borderline "slow" and so, I was put in remedial reading, writing and math classes. On top of my father’s addiction to alcohol, he was bipolar, narcissistic, sociopathic and equally addicted to gambling, pornography and money. He was a chronic liar and invested in every get rich quick scheme you could imagine, including pyramids and swindly deals and even sold women’s edible underwear. My brothers and I credit our distaste for red and black licorice after eating boxes of it that had been left, unsold, in our garage. There were porn magazines everywhere that I would read or look at from the age of five. And there is even a story told--to be believed or not--that I was kidnapped for ransom to pay back a bad debt. My life was hugely unstable, chaotic, unpredictable, and unsafe, and more than anything, my mother sent us the message (me, in particular, the only daughter) that it is perfectly acceptable to love and remain with a crazy person who's capable of putting his entire family in danger. So, while love was indeed present in our lives, and we did have loads of "fun," there were some pretty severe mixed messages. Bottom line: I was raised by a pack of wolves. Or, more precisely, by two avoidants, one of whom was also an addict.
Last Edit: Feb 26, 2015 3:41:42 GMT -8 by LovelyJune
I was 2 girl in family . My mum married an alcoholic. I think he hated me not being a boy. We were in baby's nursery since little age. And after in weekly . Mum was busy studying, so dad pick up us weekends. I was depressed teenager. was abused by my uncles. And emotionally by narcissist , egoistic stepdad. My mum started drinking .. had nice granny who loved us. Am a runaway from all this. In different country for 10 years. Single with 2 kids. choose gambler abuser liar. Trying to build life for me and kids. After another 2 failed relationships . Sex influenced teenage years. I though it was love. seen porn, sex scenes since teenagers and was molested about 8 - 11. Today I hate man. Sorry
I was the 4th child born to my father. The second to my mother. (My father had been married to another woman before he married my mother, and had my first two half-siblings with her.)
My father was the pastor of a small church. The way he was at church was NOT how he was at home. He was a complete narcissist. People "loved" him, but he was usually NOT nice at home. All of us kids, and my mother were basically ignored. It was all about my Dad and his world of being "worshiped" by his "followers."
My memories of my mother were that she was very stressed out, trying to please and "keep" my father - which was impossible. We all had to look good and be good to please him. What was actually happening at home was completely opposite than what happened at church. He was usually mean and controlling, but at church super charming and charismatic.
When I was 10 years old my father took my mother on a fishing trip out on a lake in a small boat. She never returned from that trip. She drowned. He claimed she fell overboard and claimed he couldn't find her. There were no witnesses and since this was the early 70's and it was a small town, there wasn't much of an investigation.
As an adult, after my father died, I researched what all happened and so did my older brother. We discovered my dad had been having many affairs with many women leading up to my mother's death. I have spoken to one of the women - who at the time of my mother's death, was only 18 years old. She also was afraid of my father and to tell anyone about their "affair". My mother's death was never investigated, and my father was not held accountable.
We moved the next year to another town and he was pastor of another church. He remarried when I was 15 and continued to ignore me and my other siblings. He was caught up in his world of being "Mr. Wonderful Pastor" and also trying to keep his new wife happy. His new wife was only 9 years older than me. She was horrible to me and my little sister and very abusive. When I was in 10th grade (15 years old), I was sexually assaulted by the principal of the high school I attended. This happened repeatedly until I graduated at the age of 18. I was afraid of this man, but also confused. He told me he "loved" me, but he also controlled me and threatened me if I told anyone what was going on. Most of the abuse happened while I was babysitting for him and his wife - on rides to and from babysitting.
I finally left and went off to college. I was pretty messed up, as you can imagine. Lots of trauma in my life that has contributed to a lot of my problems now. I turned to addictions for comfort as a kid. I see that now and I'm working to understand and break free.
I'm finally coming to terms with some of what happened. It's a long journey.
I agree with you Telmita it is loads to bear as a child and adult . To loose your mum like this .. Jesus .. You must be very strong to be able to live day by day after such emotional , physical pain. Wish you well. And God be by your side in your recovery! X
You ve done hard work and step by telling your story. Well done! Am proud off you. It's a lot of pain, anger, abandonment, rejection you name it. Thank you for sharing it. It makes me think. So what are your goals? Plans? Do you read books exct? Bless you
Post by midnightcry on Apr 11, 2015 5:07:24 GMT -8
This is a great thread, book or no book. I was born into a family of alcoholism. My Mom was the alcoholic. I have one older brother. My Dad divorced my mother and took custody of my brother and I, this was in 1958. I was two and my brother was four. My father had sex with me at that time and our relationship changed. He then married our babysitter and the real hell began. My father ended all contact with me and the professionals said my stepmother and I had a jealousy problem. I did not remember the sex with my father until later when I began treatment. I longed to Talk To Daddy, tell him about my day at school, hug him be close to him, tell him everything. He would not even speak to me. Our Stepmother was so violent with us, I would go to him for protection and he would not even respond. The last violent episode removed me from the home and I was put into a group home for rotten girls. She smashed me through the glass sliding doors of the shower. I thought I would die and then I prayed I would but I'm still here. Glass and blood everywhere, she claimed I did it to myself. My father Never replaced the shower door, never. they sold the home with just the metal frame.I always wanted to talk to Daddy! My Dad calls me today to ask how I'm doing and we talk about the weather. Lol. My love addiction problem began as a young girl and I was clueless. We had no contact with our real mother because she was to low. I met her when I was 18. We never know how our life is going to go.
When I read a story like yours I think of the flowers that used to push through the concrete in my driveway. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful and strong as a delicate flower who comes alive DESPITE the fact that it born under such harsh condition? That is you.