r/ChildhoodTrauma

I’m probably on month 8 or 9 and I feel like therapy has made me mean …. Opening up this can of worms of childhood trauma .. I feel like I was perfectly fine coasting and living with my parents .. I knew there were things there but I never opened the can of worms … then it was like boom - therapy .. boom - anger, anger, sadness, I was content for a bit then anger anger anger anger

Then today my therapist said if I’m still living with them I’ll probably never get over it which was a hard pill to swallow and feel like I wasted time in therapy and wish I never started it

33F. TLDR; How do I deal with this grief that my parents will never be what I need them to be? Does this grief ever go away? I've forgiven my dad, he's changed, but I am having trouble forgiving my mom. I yearn for my parents to be there for me emotionally but they never have been and never will be.

My father was emotionally abusive, sometimes physically, but he changed. He's not the same person anymore and he tries to support me in ways he knows how. I can't sit and talk with him about what's wrong but he'll take me out hunting or fishing to help me feel better and to just spend time together. He tries to listen and can somewhat understand why I get so overwhelmed in certain situations now. I have forgiven him for how he treated me growing up, even though he never apologized.

My mother was getting better but she's digressed. I'm having a hard time forgiving her. I yearn to be able to go to my parents, especially my mother, when i'm not okay. I'm grieving a life i've never had and never will have because my parents aren't capable of being supportive. They can help me financially if needed and babysit my daughter but I have shut everything else out from them and it hurts. My mother has been emotionally abusive, worse than my father, and she still continues to be. I know my parents tried/try, they treat me better than their parents treated them so I am thankful for that. You can't even talk to my mom about her behavior because she gets defensive and says narcissistic, manipulative things. I have tried going to them for my mental health and my mother especially makes it worse. My father just kind of shuts down when he hears I'm not well mentally.

Growing up I knew I needed help by 5th or 6th grade. I asked for a therapist, I knew something wasnt' right with me. There were many signs I was severely depressed. I was even self harming and they responded by yelling at me and making me sleep on their bedroom floor. They didnt' even ask what was wrong, they didn't care. I had signs of bipolar and psychosis by my teenage years and my mother wouldn't let me be medicated for bipolar. THey finally took me to the doctor at age 17 because my neurologist said they had to. The psychiatrist wanted to try the meds before diagnosing me. I was a terrible teenager because of being unmedicated and undiagnosed for bipolar. I understand they had 3 other kids to care for as well but my emotional needs were rarely met. My aunt sexually abused me for years and they told me to just let her, it wasn't harmful.

All of this set me up to think abuse is okay and I had abusive relationships from age 16-30. I forced myself to take a break from dating for 2 1/2 years and now I have my first healthy relationship and the only person who supports me besides my therapist. I have so much trauma to deal with throughout my life that i wont' mention and my brain can't handle trauma therapy.

Does the grief of not having what you want from your parents ever get better? Do you ever deal with and get over your childhood trauma? I keep stupidly trying with my mom. Someone close to me died and I tried to go to my mom for support a couple days ago and she just blew me off. I'm done. I miss my mom but she hurts me and isn't good for my mental health so I limit contact. She makes me feel so small. I don't want this life but I guess it's what I have. I feel like i'm so fucked up from having emotional neglect.

I am 20F living in the UK, I lost my mum to suicide in April 2019 when I was 13.
As a young child I lived with my parents and my older sister, my sister had some behavioural problems and was placed in residential care by her school when I was around 5. My sisters behavioural problems never changed and she struggled a lot with her mental health whilst in the unit, tragically she took her own life at only 15 years old by hanging whilst she was still n in residential care. I was 7 at this time.

I can’t begin to imagine the pain my parents must’ve felt, specifically my mum (me and my sister have different dads). Following the suicide my parents split up and my dad moved out, I continued to stay with my mum. I was too young to be told what happened to my sister so I was told she was sick, I was a very sensitive kid to begin with and didn’t cope with the loss very well. Around a year after her death there was rumours spread around my school at the time that she had hung herself in the janitors closet at my school, people were calling it haunted and I had multiple people ask me if my sister actually committed suicide. I had to ask my dad what actually happened and he told me, I guess I’ve viewed life differently since then.

Anyway, I continued to live with my mum as her mental health deteriorated. She was extremely depressed and anxious for a long time and could be quite unpredictable. I was around 9 when she started drinking heavily to cope, during this time I was malnourished and we were pretty poor, my mum wasn’t working at the time and was struggling to look after herself at all, most days she wouldn’t get out of bed. The next couple years looked the same for me, my mum was in and out of the mental hospital and took various attempts on her life with me around. It got to a point she was self harming with me in the room (I put this down to the alcohol I don’t believe she would’ve ever done this with sound mind). I still seen my dad every second weekend but he worked a lot and had a new partner. Despite how bad this might sound me and my mum did have a good relationship, we used to talk for hours on end and play games on Xbox together, she really was my best friend no matter how sick she was.

I started therapy when I was 9 to process the loss of my sister, I seen a counsellor who specialised in victims of suicide and homicide. My main goal from the therapy was to get help for my mum, she was only getting worse and at such a young age there was nothing I could do other than watch her slip further and further into alcoholism and depression. I put no blame on my counsellor at all but I’d be lying if I said I’m not bitter about them not helping me, I told them what was going on at home and my concerns for my mums welfare, she actively told me she wanted to end her life and that I was the only thing stopping her from doing so. At this age my biggest fear was losing my mum to suicide, I had a suicide plan for myself that I was planning to use if I ever suspected my mum was gonna take her life so I wouldn’t have to live with the loss.

This pattern went on until I was 13, I came home from school one day and sat down to talk with my mum as usual. Nothing seemed off, I could tell she had been drinking and could see she’d been crying but this wasn’t out of the ordinary for this point in my life. We had a normal conversation about school and she asked me to go out and play with my friends. As I got to the door she called me back over and hugged me really tight. She squeezed my hands and looked in my face and told me that she really loves me. I didn’t think anything of it and out I went.
I came back a few hours later and the doors to the house had been left wide open, the back door had a chair propped up against it to let the dog out and all the curtains were closed in the house. Everything just seemed a bit strange, my mum wasn’t home but I wasn’t worried because I thought she was maybe visiting a friend. After around an hour I walked round some of her friends houses to see if she was there, she wasn’t. It was starting to get dark and this was out of character for her, I had school the next day so she’d usually be home by dark.
At this point alarm bells start going in my head, I start panicking, I must’ve frantically searched her room over 50 times at this point. My grandad spent the night at my house and my dad and I reported my mum as a missing person the following day when she still hadn’t returned home.

A search started really quickly as my mum was at risk due to her depression, local people also joined together to look for her. These must’ve been the worst days of my life, on the second day I went to take the dog out and had noticed the rope lead we walk her with was missing, I guess I knew then what had happened. After 3 days they had found my mums body hanging in a wooded area around half a mile from our house, she had used the dogs lead I was looking for.

My mum did leave a note, it was very short and I could only bring myself to read it 3 years after her death. All it said was “I love Shannon so much but I don’t know how to cope anymore, I am so so sorry. Kelly x”.

Anyway that’s my suicide story, I’m 20 now and finding it harder than ever. I was feeling good for the last year or so but recently when I look in the mirror I’ve been seeing that lost little girl who wants nothing more than her mum. As I’ve gotten older I’ve been able to see my mum as a person, a woman, not just my mum. She too was once a little girl crying for her mum, life wasn’t fair to her and I wish I could’ve changed that. Her and my sister were tormented souls and I really do hope they found peace together.

It just feels so unfair to be so alone, it’s so hard learning how to become a woman without her and my sister. I feel embarrassed sometimes, I don’t know how to braid my hair and it took me forever to learn makeup, it’s hard to fit in when there’s nobody showing you how.

I feel like every achievement is tainted by loss, every milestone for me feels bittersweet, I want to share my happiness with them. My mum never got to see who I’ve become and it kills me. Since her passing I have learned to drive, bought a car, and I’m close to graduating with a BSC hons in pharmacology. I’d kill for her to be at my graduation.

I guess it’s not just my mum and my sisters I mourn, I mourn who I could’ve been. What life could’ve been like for me without so much loss, a happy family and a real support network. I’m jealous of all my peers who have siblings and alive parents, it’s hard to imagine this is gonna be the rest of my life.

If anyone reads all this I’m hoping for some advice or perspective from others or even just some shared experiences so I can feel less alone in this. I’m feeling lost at the moment and finding it hard to stay positive and believe my path won’t be the same as my mum and sisters.

I’m 39. My wife and I will be trying for a baby soon. I’ve never felt more ready to become a father, and it fills my heart with warmth thinking of all the memories I want to create with my future children. Naturally, my thoughts have turned to my own upbringing. I never gave much thought to my childhood until recently. Now, it’s all I can think about.

I remember…

It was the middle of the night. I was 7 or 8 years old, deep asleep. My mother bursted into my room, flipping on the lights, and screaming. She pounced on me, grabbed me by the head, and pulled me from my bed. She dragged me across the room by my hair. I remember the agony, grabbing her wrists, trying to keep her from ripping it out.

When she finally let go, a barrage of hits rained down on my head. I cowered into a ball, crying between breaths. The more I cried, the worse it got. After she was done with me, she smashed picture frames and toys. I remember being terrified while crouched in broken glass.

My father was usually indifferent to my mother’s tantrums and rarely intervened. He broke my nose once when I was 6 years old. I remember passing large clots out of my mouth and struggling to breathe for hours. He was afraid to take me to the hospital.

Later in life, my parents found God. They carry remorse for what they did. I became estranged from them, until recently, when I learned my father was dying. When we saw each other again for the first time in decades, he started crying and shaking. He told me he was sorry and misses his boy. My father a broken old man, and his son all grown.

Did I go too far? Was I selfish? Did I take away time that could have been used to rebuild a father son bond? At the end of the day, when I looked at him, I felt completely indifferent. I provide any financial support he requires, but I still do not speak to either of them. When he dies, my mother will be alone. My thoughts dwell on whether I should forgive them, let them see their future grandchildren, be the better part of humanity and turn cruelty into grace?

I want to understand something, you don't have to agree to it, if you think what I'm feeling is because of my past issues or traumas and it's just in my head and nothing actually is effecting mein any way, for context I was m\*\*\*\*\*ed by my brother at a young age right after few month of my father's d\*\*th.

I saw some affair thing of my mother after a year maybe of my fathers d\*\*th, because of which my mother used to mentally torture me and calling me w\*\*\*e infront of my brothers all the time, snatch my phone infront of them just to embarrass me and " say let check is there any boy you talking to" or kick me as hard as she could on my head while I was sleeping to see how alert I was during my sleep, so I don't get m\*\*\*\*\*ed again (which was my fault the first time btw because I shouldn't have babied or cared for my little brother after my father's death and because I babied him, he did that to me). At one point I was even with holding my hunger as a child because I wasn't sure I was allowed to ask for food.

I had a messed up childhood to sum it all up, abandoned, lonely, craving for love or genius relationship at the same time torn, and rebellious to never trust anyone now onwards and never to be dependent on anyone financially, emotionally or in any way because all people are the same, pushed alot of friends or never made friendships to a point where it could effect me emotionally,

Never been in a relationship because again I was scared,

Then someone I somewhat trusted told me he liked me to me and I first pushed him telling I am focusing on my studies and said no but he was adamant that he'll take care of me so I gave in, guess I was also desparate for love or someone to rely on after so much shit happeing, also my original plan was to just leave my house after finding a job but I was quite young and pakistan isn't an ideal place if you think about running away but I told him about everything,

Ihad to deal with my issues,I need therapy, told him I might be a burden with my unresolved issues but he assured to be my rock, had a 5 year long relationship and married for 2 years now.

Even though I wanted to do a job before my marriage, I couldn't though because of my mother and because he was also like its okay I'll take care of you, you can do a job after getting married and honestly at this point I was desperate to get out of my house one way or another.

He claims to love me, understand and support me in all my things and did too, I felt a freedom that I should've felt at my mother's place but that freedom also came eith another kind of obligation when I said I don't think I would want to have a baby because of my issues to which he said he was ok with it but at the same time was quite careless on his part and I got pregnant and his response was if it is done we can't do anything but accept it and there I was literally panicking and had 3 full blown panic attacks,

Though I had a miscarriage in the 5th week and I am ashamed to admit that I was relieved and he was again nice, doing things, showing love but only when it's alright for him and never doing things how I want for me, or because it's not convinient for him in someway.

Also knowing all the history of trauma I went through and the hurt and the damage my mother's misogynistic mindset caused me he would still till date out of no where makes comment on how women should be more covered or how for men its different or how women are dumb in general or how its ok for someone (a random man on the street) to point out something about my dress if its not fine, or how I should be a better wife or one time he joked to his friends how his wife doesn't cook him food so came out to eat and before you come at me.

We've talked about all these things and how I think these things shouldn't be a 1 person job, if you're married, all things are done equally and how I feel a husband should protect his wife instead of teaming with anyone criticising her choices and HE AGGREES TO IT DURING THESE CONVERSATIONS and than when I would be upset about these contradicting things he would say, his response is I am too dumb to understand his tone, he was just joking around and it wasn't anything that serious for me to cry upon or make such a big issue about and he loves me and he just was joking but I have multiple times told him I don't like these kind of jokes and if I am not finding him funny for making fun of how women are just some kind of property to please all men gaze then just find better jokes

These things always triggers my anxiety soo bad because I lived through all this trauma and I don't know I feel betrayed or just something bugging me like everything is fine but not fine because he doesn't hit me, keeps me in better conditions than my mother did, provides for me, even lets me keep my 2 cats but then these comments just I feel so shitty and worthless as if , at this point I don't even know what real love feels like, I just wish I had better parents, better brothers, better everything to understand things better and then I think maybe something isn't right with me not everyone can be bad at the same time maybe I am juat ungrateful and thinks only I am right,

I just wish I had an option to end it without deeming it as haram, I am so tired honestly, life is so hard, I wish I was stronger or just never born to being with.

I started therapy 7 months ago and feel like the most sessions revolved around my childhood trauma. Some days I feel over it .. but lately I’m not over it .. I’m upset .. I don’t like my parents because of it .. there’s a lot of grief and anger and sadness revolved around it. I’m tired of feeling sad about it and want to get over it but it seems impossible … I don’t know if I’m fixated on it or what .. but I’m getting tired of getting triggered from seeing healthy parent/child relationships

At one point, my abuser forced me to have the same conversation, over and over, for months. Probably like 3-5 months, my memory is really spotty.

Pretty much, I had been pretty badly abused by a boyfriend who smeared my name at school when I broke it off. I was 18, about to graduate. The smear campaign half worked and half didn’t, as I really wasn’t that popular to begin with, but resulted in minor bullying and exclusion. It upset me at first but I got over it pretty fast.

You’re probably wondering what that has to do with anything. Let me tell you, it’s important. My abusive mother forced me to listen to her talk to me about the group bullying me every. waking. moment.

As soon as I woke up to the moment I fell asleep. I mean constant. She’d cry, get enraged, pray out loud, all while I was really nonchalant as I was graduating in a few months and none of this really mattered to me until I heard about it so much that it got into my brain.

She would plant ideas in my head about the people in my school, who at this point were being pretty fucking terrible so who knows if she was right or not. She would make me pull off elaborate lies and social stunts to one-up them or make them think higher of me. Even after I told her I wasn’t comfortable. That just made the abuse worse. Every moment of my life became all about competing with my bullies.

After a solid two months I was fully psychotic, severely depressed, suicidal etc. I lost all sense of feeling outside of misery for a long time.

I would beg through tears to make it stop. Cliche, I know. If I got really desperate about it, she’d stop for a few days and just start again as soon as I got comfortable. Some days were worse than others, all days were pretty bad.

It ended up slowing down after I graduated and stopping entirely after a while. After the fact, I had a nervous breakdown so severe I almost had to go inpatient. The whole time I knew why it was happening but couldn’t be honest because I was and am still living with my abuser.

I’m much better now. I still have flashbacks and get depressed often but no suicidality or psychotic episodes thank goodness.

When I told my boyfriend about this he said it was torture. I disagreed at first but he’s really certain about it. Writing it out I kind of see it. Reddit, what’s your opinion? Was I actually tortured?

I don’t know what to do. Ever since I remember, I feel like my mom has sexually harassed/abused me. Things like commenting on my breasts/butt, to fondling and groping me. Literally ever since I was a child. And I have a feeling and some evidence she did even more than that to me when I was little that I just don’t remember. Every time I bring this up to her, she just denies ever doing it which is 100% false. And I know she knows she does these things. But she gets so absolutely upset whenever I talk about it to her, she either almost cries or leaves the room, or tells me I just need to stop talking to her forever. It just makes me feel so upset that she will never admit to what she has and continues to attempt to do, and nobody in the family even cares or thinks it’s a big deal. I think it’s changed many aspects of who I am as a person for the worst and given me ptsd and hypersexuality ever since I was young. I know she had a bad childhood, but I don’t know any details. Part of me thinks she gets so upset because she is used to this behavior happening to her as a child, so she might thinks it’s normal? But part of me knows that even if she did, the amount of times I’ve yelled, screamed, and cried saying it makes me uncomfortable should’ve turned her off of that behavior far long ago. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells being around her. I don’t feel safe. I don’t want to cut my family off when I can afford to just because of her, but she will never stop her behavior, and every time I’m around her I get super tense and constantly worried about what she might attempt to do next. I don’t know. I guess I just want to vent and have some reassurance. Please nobody leave comments telling me that this isn’t a big deal or not serious. I’ve had enough of that being said in my own family. I just want someone to tell me it’s okay to feel this way and that this isn’t normal.