I was 7, my dad woke me up at like 10 pm, told me to come with to the neighbors across the street. I’m gonna stay the night with my friend. Get there, we hang for like 2 hours, it’s after midnight and he tells me we’re leaving.
“You said we were staying the night”
“it’s after midnight, we did stay the night”
My dad is a big fan of technically true statemelies like that.
He put us on a bus, and took us from Chesapeake, Virginia to Columbia, South Carolina, where we’re originally from. We were there for about 2 months. I was with family, and cared for, and not abused or anything. But it was still scary. I knew my phone number, but it was the late 90s, and you didn’t need to know the area code to call local, so I didn’t know it. My dad had instructed everyone not to tell me. I couldn’t talk to my mom or brother, and that scared me really badly. While I was there, my mom and brother both had a really terrible flu, no money (and by no money I mean none. They delivered papers for income, and my dad did tree work when he felt like it.). They couldn’t afford the gas to come get me, even after my cousin helped me figure out the area code to call them.
From my point of the view at the time, it was framed as like, a trip home to see Grandma, but being away from my mom and brother, and not being allowed to speak to them, was really scary. Not to mention frustrating. I knew I was being lied to, and having things kept from me, and I didn’t appreciate it. I started having panic attacks at night when it came to go to sleep, and they lasted until my late 20s. Like, almost every night. I had to learn breathing exercises and shit to deal with them in my teens. It’s wild the shit that can be traumatic. I was safe. I was with my father, and my grandma (although, she was whole other piece of work), and I got to hang out with my older cousin who was good to me, even though her sister was a complete bitch. But it seriously damaged for a long time. I still have unresolved issues about it, and pretty severe separation anxiety and shit. I’m like a shelter dog sometimes. Lmao
When the panic attacks started my aunt told me it was because I ate chocolate, and no one would believe me that it wasn’t just, like, heartburn or something. They were real, and I didn’t learn what they were until I was like 16, because panic attacks aren’t, like, typical presentation. They’re weird. Everything feels the wrong size. Like my hands feel tiny, or my teeth feel enormous. The bed feels like it’s the size of an ocean, or the phone I’m using to distract myself feels like a matchbook in my hands. Just a whole bunch of shit. I guess I never really got past it.
But my mom got us a hamster when I got back, so that was cool. They found it in the driveway, and we named him Clyde. Later a neighbor rehomed theirs with us, and we renamed her Bonnie.
… Then Bonnie chewed through her enclosure and Bonnie ate Clyde, so altogether pretty shitty. Lmao
I was 7, my dad woke me up at like 10 pm, told me to come with to the neighbors across the street. I’m gonna stay the night with my friend. Get there, we hang for like 2 hours, it’s after midnight and he tells me we’re leaving.
“You said we were staying the night”
“it’s after midnight, we did stay the night”
My dad is a big fan of technically true statemelies like that.
He put us on a bus, and took us from Chesapeake, Virginia to Columbia, South Carolina, where we’re originally from. We were there for about 2 months. I was with family, and cared for, and not abused or anything. But it was still scary. I knew my phone number, but it was the late 90s, and you didn’t need to know the area code to call local, so I didn’t know it. My dad had instructed everyone not to tell me. I couldn’t talk to my mom or brother, and that scared me really badly. While I was there, my mom and brother both had a really terrible flu, no money (and by no money I mean none. They delivered papers for income, and my dad did tree work when he felt like it.). They couldn’t afford the gas to come get me, even after my cousin helped me figure out the area code to call them.
From my point of the view at the time, it was framed as like, a trip home to see Grandma, but being away from my mom and brother, and not being allowed to speak to them, was really scary. Not to mention frustrating. I knew I was being lied to, and having things kept from me, and I didn’t appreciate it. I started having panic attacks at night when it came to go to sleep, and they lasted until my late 20s. Like, almost every night. I had to learn breathing exercises and shit to deal with them in my teens. It’s wild the shit that can be traumatic. I was safe. I was with my father, and my grandma (although, she was whole other piece of work), and I got to hang out with my older cousin who was good to me, even though her sister was a complete bitch. But it seriously damaged for a long time. I still have unresolved issues about it, and pretty severe separation anxiety and shit. I’m like a shelter dog sometimes. Lmao When the panic attacks started my aunt told me it was because I ate chocolate, and no one would believe me that it wasn’t just, like, heartburn or something. They were real, and I didn’t learn what they were until I was like 16, because panic attacks aren’t, like, typical presentation. They’re weird. Everything feels the wrong size. Like my hands feel tiny, or my teeth feel enormous. The bed feels like it’s the size of an ocean, or the phone I’m using to distract myself feels like a matchbook in my hands. Just a whole bunch of shit. I guess I never really got past it.
But my mom got us a hamster when I got back, so that was cool. They found it in the driveway, and we named him Clyde. Later a neighbor rehomed theirs with us, and we renamed her Bonnie.
… Then Bonnie chewed through her enclosure and Bonnie ate Clyde, so altogether pretty shitty. Lmao
That sounds like a very strange experience. Thanks for sharing