The Shitty Childhood Paradox

Imagine you had perfectly loving, supportive, and emotionally mature parents. All of your material wants and needs were taken care of as a child. Friendship, community, great teachers, joy, healthy habits — your childhood was practically ideal. Except… your drunk uncle raped you at family events for a decade and you were too terrified and ashamed to tell anyone about it.

How would you feel about your childhood?

I would hate it.

I’d feel so alone, powerless, violated, worthless, and afraid that it’d be hard to appreciate the one million beautiful things my shiny, happy, wonderful ass family did for me. Like someone giving you a bouquet of flowers and a Starbucks gift card while you’re being mauled by a grizzly bear. Certainly a swell gesture, but not actually all that helpful.

In fact, being surrounded by people who appear to be having a delightful time while you secretly fantasize about not waking up in the morning can be rather unhelpful.

“I Shouldn’t Feel This Way”

Many people look back on their childhood and decide that “It wasn’t that bad,” or “They did the best they could,” or “Other people had it so much worse.”

You have my permission to stop denying your feelings and the reality of your experience. No one has to understand, believe, or agree with you. Your trauma doesn’t need to be worse than anyone else’s for it to be valid.

If I walk into the ER with a broken arm and spot a guy with a bullet wound in his chest, I’m not gonna change my mind and go home. I’m gonna get some goddamn medical attention! And I certainly won’t belittle myself for not being in as much pain as the dude with the extra hole.

The Paradox of Family

If you feel like you had an awful childhood, it doesn’t necessarily mean your family was a roving band of sociopaths. It’s more often the case that your family loved you very much, had great intentions, and shit happened. You don’t have to choose between “I love my family,” and “My childhood sucked.” BOTH can be true.

People have such a hard time with this. Maybe because we live in such a “Find the bad guy!” culture. Perhaps toxic shame is so ubiquitous these days that blame has become a universal reflex.

Whatever the case, seeing a therapist to resolve childhood trauma (that bee tee dubs is likely affecting every area of your life), is not an indictment on your family tree. It’s literally just tending to your mental health. There is no witch hunt. No judge, jury, or executioner. This is between you and what you see in the mirror (which aren’t always the same).

Maybe your siblings enjoyed their childhood and you felt abused and abandoned. This happens all the time. Nobody has to be “right” or “wrong” about it. It doesn’t have to be anyone’s “fault.” Life is a sloppy mess with no instruction manual, and we’re all out here doing the best we can.

But if something doesn’t feel right, it probably ain’t.

And don’t you let anyone tell you different.

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