Did any of you grow up in a toxic or unstable home as a kid? How did you actually deal with it, or move past it?
Looking back, home wasn’t calm growing up. Constant fighting between my parents, things a kid shouldn’t really be exposed to. I don’t even fully know whose fault it is, honestly, and part of me hesitates to blame either of them completely, because I’ve also watched both of them work hard for me despite everything falling apart between them. That contradiction is confusing on its own, seeing people cause you pain and also genuinely try for you at the same time. I’ve started noticing it in myself now, more impatience than I think I should have, reacting harder to small things than the situation probably calls for. It’s like some of that environment got wired into me without me even realizing it until recently.
I’m not asking for sympathy, I’m asking because I know I’m not the only one who’s grown up like this, and I’d genuinely like to know how people actually worked through it, not just survived it, but actually became calmer, steadier versions of themselves afterward.
A few things I’m curious about:
Did you notice the effects on yourself right away, or did it take years to even recognize the pattern?
Was there a specific turning point, therapy, a relationship, distance from the situation, or was it more gradual than that?
Does it ever fully go away, or does it just become something you manage better over time?
Genuinely trying to understand this instead of just carrying it forward without realizing it. Appreciate any real experiences you’re willing to share.
[[[[Sometimes I catch myself wondering what it would’ve actually felt like to grow up in a genuinely happy, peaceful family. Hard to even imagine it sometimes, since it’s not something I ever really got to experience firsthand._]]]]
There was no abuse or violence or aggression or anything like that, so I guess I got off lightly compared to some other commenters.
But there was also little to no displays of love or affection. We kind of just cohabited. I don’t remember my parents ever telling me they loved me. I don’t remember either of them ever hugging me.
That’s left me as something of an emotional cripple. More than one of my exes has used that exact term to describe me: ‘emotional cripple’.
But now I have a wife (who saw enough of my family to understand what made me the way I am) who’s powered through all of that. And kids. Kids who I show my love to (not like that you filthy minded perverts). I tell them I love them and hug them and will probably fuck them up a whole different way.