I Had a Crappy Childhood, So What
I had an tough childhood. My mom was severely mentally ill (10+ diagnoses, drug abuse, hospitalizations and, ultimately, suicide), and the ramifications are no joke. I was emotionally neglected if not abused by her, and had to grow up really fast. I lived on my own by 16, had lived a world of shit by 19.
I’m not alone. Life is challenging and children bear a huge brunt of living in this mostly unconscious world. I never use my childhood as an excuse; it’s a badge of honor.
If you are one of the many I’ve encountered with the unspeakable in your formative years, God bless you and congratulations. It’s over, and your strength runs deep.
As an adult it’s important to process what lives on in you still. To rid yourself of residual denial and pity and to evolve into acceptance and reverence. That’s empowerment. That’s taking responsibility for your life. That’s ensuring you didn’t suffer in vain.
The trauma happened; who you are now is still happening.
Bring what you learned to the forefront. This allows the past to recede and the present to expand.
The greatest gift from my gnarly childhood is a deeper understanding of compassion and a deeper experience of strength. I owe it to my young self to live these virtues to the highest degree now. And to let the effects of living this way create a ripple effect so that the world may be uplifted, so that other children may live and learn with far less suffering.
This is a deeply worthwhile way to commemorate a crappy childhood.