What is your most traumatizing childhood memory?

JeddHampton · 1 year

The one I can't remember. I was told this happened, but for the life of me I can't remember the event. My neighbor and best friend's sister tried to drown me and her brother in the bath tub. I ended up fine, but my friend ended up with extremely mild brain damage (nothing noticeable ever, but he wasn't allowed to receive a failing grade throughout school).

StreeTelevision · 1 year

My mom pinned me down on my bed and beat me with a high-heeled shoe. She blamed all of her problems on me. To this day she is proud of that night. I was 9.

AwesoMeme · 1 year

I was about 11 and my sister was 13. We were riding our bikes across the bridge, she was in front and we were moving pretty fast. She lifted up her handle bars to 'hop' down the curb and cross the road, never slowing down.

She had put her quick disconnect front wheel on incorrectly and when she lifted her front wheel up the forks became detached from the wheel. The wheel gone, her front forks hit the ground causing her to flip very fast over the handlebars. She never even had time to let go of the handles so the first thing to hit the pavement was her mouth.

The next few minutes are a blur but I vividly remember her being unable to talk and with blood pouring out of her mouth she looked at me and tried to ask why she couldn't talk. She was in shock and opened her mouth, feeling for her teeth, they were all gone and the roof of her mouth and upper gums had broken and was pressing down on to her tongue. It didn't make sense to me visually that when she would open her mouth there where no teeth, just bone and blood. I tried to tell her she looked fine and just knocked a few teeth loose but she knew better. I got her out of the street and luckily a cop came by soon (no cell phones back then).

When things finally settled down at the hospital my Dad yelled at me for letting it happen as she had just gotten her expensive braces off.

SoCo_cpp · 1 year

Me, my brother, and my neighbor where looking for hide n seek hiding spots. We found a large empty wooden tool-chest box in my neighbors shed. This shed was a cluttered gold mine of tools and junk. We decided to see if we could all fit in there and if the lid would close. We all fit, but the latch fell down. it was the kind where the loop when through the slot and you can put a padlock through the loop. We thought no big deal, we just bang on the the lid and it would unlatch. But that didn't work. We were stuck! The others started freaking out and wanted to tip the box over. I prevented them from doing so, because that could potentially make it so much worse. If we tipped the wrong way or tipped back but hit something and didn't go over all the way, things could be much worse. Nearly dying of a heat stroke with very little oxygen, we had been banging frantically and yelling for help for about an hour and a half. We eventually were able to push the lid up far enough for a tiny crack, where we could see the latch obscuring the light entering our pitch black casket/oven. I broke my glasses and used part to push the latch which worked to open it!

And that is how I beat natural selection.

Did_it_in_Flint · 1 year

I grew up in the country and one of the farmers in our neighborhood trapped foxes and coyotes. There was a statewide bounty on them and trappers had to turn in the pelts to get paid.

This guy dug a fairly deep pit each spring to dump the carcasses in. He'd fill it in at the end of the season, and sometimes sprinkle a little something in the hole to keep the stink down, but not too much. Toward the end of summer, he'd have a dozen or more skinned carcasses down there in various states of decomposition, the fresher ones on top.

When I was about 7 years old, one of the older kids in the neighborhood pushed me into the hole and wouldn't help me out. I couldn't get out on my own, and he left me in there.

Eventually, my dad came looking for me and got me out, but I was in there an hour or so.

I, er . . . won't ever forget it.

EDIT TO ADD: Quite a few people below asked what revenge was exacted on the older kid, but I'm afraid the answer is nothing. My father wasn't really the type of dad to intervene in the problems between us neighborhood kids. It was the older boy's little brother who clued my dad in to what happened, which is why he found me half-way quickly, and that kid and I are still friends to this day (I'm 36). The older kid who pushed me in there is still around, too. He's a local building contractor. We aren't exactly friends, but now that we're all adults I don't have bad feelings about him. Kids do stupid shit and that's all it was.

hemogoblins · 1 year

The house I grew up in had a basement that was only accessible from outside (much like a cellar), and one day (I was about 6 or 7) I was helping my parents clean out some of the junk. We pulled out my old toy box that was filled with gross, mildewy stuffed animals and action figure body parts. I went to pick one of the stuffed animals up and it hissed at me. Turns out it was a opossum. I think I might have pissed myself.

carpac · 1 year

I was 8 and was a eye-witness of my father shooting and killing my grandmother, my mother and then himself. Couldn't stand nor grasp what was happening before me.

LazersGoPewPew · 1 year

I was four years old and with my parents when they we were robbed by three men at gunpoint. Two men had guns, one pointed at each of my parents, the third took money, keys, etc. Then the guys tried to kidnap me. I remember screaming and clinging to my mom as I was being pulled away by one of the guys while my dad tried to fight the guy away from me. Neighbors came out from all of the commotion, so the robbers/abductors split quickly.

I had the worst nightmares at night after that for a few years and thought I was okay for the longest time. Then I watched Taken while on vacation with my husband last year and had a nightmare about being abducted that night. I woke up yelling this blood-curdling scream that woke our hotel room neighbors up who called the front desk. I had to explain that it was just a horrible dream, which was embarrassing.

Liru · 1 year

I've posted this before, and I'd rather not talk about it much, but it involved my mom pretending to put a fork in the electrical socket and "dying" when I was 6.

Cue me running into my bedroom crying hysterically for about an hour, then my mom running in suddenly and yelling "APRIL FOOL'S!"

I didn't even know what April Fool's day was back then. What a bitch.

hetbeet · 1 year

Back when I was eight I had the chore of sweeping the front of the house every morning. One morning I saw a kitten under a car right next to the back wheel. I figured it would move once that car turned on. I was wrong and saw my neighbor back up and run over the cat.

IronRectangle · 1 year

[deleted]

WritingImplement · 1 year

I was tied to a chair by my brother. He killed my only friend, my cat Lincoln, with a pair of scissors. To this day, I can't look at a striped tabby without breaking down in tears.

I miss my kitty.

g33kfu · 1 year

Aged 5, in kindergarten class. I being bullied (some punching, kicking, baby stuff) by a set of twins in class. When the teacher intervened, the brothers accused me of being the instigator. It was their words against mine. Pity the teacher took their word over mine. Dragged me into the staff kitchen, put my hand on a chopping block, and held a cleaver to my wrist. She told me that next time she catches me harrassing another kid, she would cut off my hand.

On the bright side, it taught me an important life lesson at an early age that authorities will not necessarily see justice through.

ozzman54 · 1 year

I choked on a mozzarella stick in a restaurant when I was 6.

I would have died if it were not for the most badass old man in the world sitting nearby. He didn't even think twice when he saw me choking. He walked over, picked me up out of the booth, gave me the heimlich, said "you ok son?", and went back to his dinner. He wouldn't even accept my moms offer to pay for his meal.

Today, I still get nervous when I eat mozzarella sticks.

GeorgeWashingblagh · 1 year

I guess maybe it wasn't traumatizing but it did change me forever. I always cried a lot as a kid, even past the age of it being somewhat acceptable and around 8 or 9 I went to visit my grandfather in the hospice he was in after doctors agreed there was nothing they could do about his worsening cancer. He was fading fast, and had lost the use of his body and mouth, but he was still conscious and could respond by blinking when I came to see him. He would die a few days later, and my grandmother made it clear that this would likely be the last time I'd see him. We sat and talked with him awhile, and she eventually left the room to let me say whatever I wanted to say to him. I vividly remember sitting at the foot of his bed looking straight into his eyes for what seemed like years, and kept thinking about all the things he said he'd teach me as I got older to, "be a man" as he often joked, and how he wouldn't be there for any of them. Then the flood of tears came as I thought of everything I'm sure he wished he could have told me, but couldn't. But I held them back. I refused to cry in front of him because I didn't want his last memories of his grandson to be a crying mess, but rather that I could handle death and loss like a man; like he told me he'd some day teach me. If I could have even thought of what to say, my voice wouldn't have been able to produce it because the lump in my throat felt like a pumpkin. After what seemed like an eternity of unspoken goodbyes, my grandmother came in and said we should leave. I went over and griped his hand as we shared a few more seconds of silence and I left. I never wasted tears on anything again.

Edit: It got me thinking about him today and I started going through old photographs. Here's a picture of me and the old man. I was 2 and 1/2.

brwilliams · 1 year

Ramstein airshow, I was 10.

sierrabella · 1 year

I grew up on a hobby farm along Highway 63 in Northern Wisconsin. We had a menagerie of animals, and I was versed on the “cycle of life”. However, nothing could prepare me for what happened one summer night between the 4th and 5th grade. I had awoken in the middle of the night to flashing lights and shouting voices coming through my screen window, and realized that cars were stopping along side our property. I slipped out of bed and down into the kitchen to get a better look, but my view was blocked by trees. So, I crept out the side door and down towards the road, where I hid myself in the ditch, covered by tiger lilies and lilac bushes. I could see my horse, Patches, laying in the middle of the road, awash in the bright headlights of a semi tractor-trailer. Apparently, the horse had escaped the pasture and was hit by the truck. As people began to congregate, the horse tried over and over to stand up, but his hind legs were broken. He was grunting and snorting, and I remember the steam rising from his nostrils in the intense light. Just then, my father arrived with his shot gun and shot the horse in the head. I cannot remember screaming or crying, but just lay in shock as the horse jerked violently until he was completely still.

tsycho · 1 year

I was 13, a friend was walking over to return a book to me. I decided for whatever reason to let our dog Koko out into the front yard to meet them. Koko ran round kinda confused before seeing my friend and rushing to meet them. Just as Koko touched the road a car came barreling out of nowhere and hit her. I don't ever think I'll forget her death wail. I still blame myself.

Edit: Forgot that might come up, the lady who was driving did stop, I kinda was in shock so I don't remember much of her. Also the way my parent's yard was setup there was an evergreen tree and a massive bush in the front corner of the yard that basically ensured nobody could see what was happening in the yard until they were right infront of the house, which in this case was already too late.

TheCannon · 1 year

Found my Great Grandma dead at age 5. We were alone in the house for another hour before my parents got back home.

I was 5, not her.

rockinchizel · 1 year

Got cocksmacked by my father. I was pretty young at the time, maybe six or seven, and my mom was out of town. I woke up before I was supposed to because I had to pee, and when walking back from the bathroom I walked past the towel closet. My dad was letting his morning wood just hang out because mom wasn't home and he thought my brother and I were asleep. He turned around because he heard me walking, and bam, right across my face. Most awkward/creepy/weird thing ever for me

Jostinnius · 1 year

My Eldest brother thought it would be hilarious to hold me close to the edge of a cliff, The area is called "Hawks Nest" it is located on the upper Delaware border of New York and Pennsylvania. So there is a rock wall in between you and the nice drop.. So the ass hold's me up and I get scared of course, being 4 years old and all. So I squirmed and ran away, he caught me by my foot then proceed to hold me by both ankles and dangle over slightly over the rock wall slightly looking straight down the cliff! I screamed, that's when my father noticed what was going on. After my brother put me down, my father proceeded to punch him in the face. But I'll never forget that shit.

lazeyasian · 1 year

My great aunt fell backwards and wasn't wearing underwear. She was 75+, I was 6.

[deleted] · 1 year

Seeing a scary, bloody man in the house in the middle of the night, only to realize it was my beat-up dad after he had lost a bar fight.

Dragonite · 1 year

[deleted]

armthehomeless · 1 year

Probably when my dad died of throat cancer when I was 14. The last couple months were just terrible and I was kind of shell shocked and completely shut down. I didn't even really go visit much toward the end because I couldn't handle it.

Close second would be when my babysitter molested me when I was like 5. I don't think of it as particularly traumatic (in fact I think I may have enjoyed it a bit) but it certainly made me a very sexual person at a young age. I was really curious about pornography well before most kids. Not just playboy spreads, either.

PrettyBigDuck · 1 year

When I was like 2 years old I had one of those fleece bodysuits that zips up in the front. I was too young to understand the idea of a zipper so my parents had to zip it up and down for me. One day the zipper was being particularly stubborn so my dad was sort of yanking at it, and suddenly it got unstuck, and ZZZZZZIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPP.....beans above the frank :(

systemlord · 1 year

when I was around 12 or so, I got into a stupid, petty fight with my best friend. We had been best of friends since we were 4. Inseparable.

I moved to the US shortly thereafter and never heard from him again, neither did I attempt at getting in touch with him.

One day I received a letter in the post, it was handwritten by his mother. Turns out on his 16th bday he decided to jump out of his 9th floor bedroom window.

girlface · 1 year

Found out that my mom and her boyfriend were using my koosh ball for intimate purposes, and then putting it back in my toybox when they were done.

madstar · 1 year

When I was a little kid I used to watch TV with my dad. He didn't censor anything for me. I remember he was watching "Sightings" (popular 90s show about alien encounters)one day. In this episode they interviewed a little girl who was around my age at the time (8-ish). She said an alien had come into her room at night and touched her. This was what she said to her mother, word for word: "Mommy mommy, a big white man came into my room and gave me an owie." Then they played a re-enactment of a "grey" creeping into a child's bedroom and touching her.

That fucking scarred me for life.

Smigge87 · 1 year

My daycare lady picked me up by the back of the neck and slammed me repeatedly face first into the snow because I knocked down an icesickle off the roof with a snowball.

1 year

[deleted]

ayesee · 1 year

I grew up in a very loving, affectionate family, and I had two wonderful parents who never gave me any sort of abuse... but I was traumatized by my own bad behavior and what it almost caused me to lose.

I was 11 years old and heading off to school (I rode with my mother on her way to work), and was in a pissy mood over something trivial-- parents punishing me, or not getting something I wanted... to this day, I cannot remember what exactly-- and throwing a tantrum, being mean to mom and dad over it. Dad was sick that morning and was staying home from work, but, as always, he called me in to give him a hug before I went to school. I approached his recliner, he hugged me, kissed my head, and said "I love you." I turned and left without saying a single word to him. To most this might not sound like a big deal, but in my family, verbal expression of love and affection was and remains a big deal... it's just how we are.

So, right around lunchtime that day, I get a called out of class and told to grab my things, my mother was there to pick me up early. I ran outside happy as could be to get out of school, and my mother was on her knees sobbing, waiting on me. She wrapped her arms around me and whispered, "I love you, Aaron. Your Daddy is sick."

Shortly after we had left the house that morning, my father had slipped into a diabetic coma and suffered a stroke.

Being as young as I was, I didn't really understand what was going on... I just knew that Dad was in the hospital, but even that didn't bother me that much... Dad WORKED in the hospital. In my little mind, the trip over there was just like we were going to see him at work.

Then, we entered the intensive care unit, and he lay there, tubes and wires running in and out of him. He looked normal, so I approached him and put a hand on him and said, "Hey Daddy, Mommy and me are here!" He didn't even flinch.

That's when it set in. My father couldn't hear me. He couldn't feel me. He didn't even know I was in the room. And the last time I had a chance to speak to him, I had stormed out in a huff. I hadn't told him I loved him.

I laid in bed with him for hours on end, crying until my throat hurt and my eyes burned, telling him I loved him. Over, and over, and over again.

Dad was in that coma for a week or so, and for most of the time it was 50/50 if he was going to make it through. I spent all of those visiting hours laying next to him, telling him the one thing I had been too selfish to say before.

To this day, that episode results in a very peculiar idiosyncrasy of mine. When it comes to close family and, in particular, significant others with which I've fallen in love, the NEED to say "I love you" at the end of every communication exchange-- email, phone call, letter, text message, instant message-- is almost unbearable. If I forego it, I literally lose sleep over it. If they do it, intentionally or unintentionally, my anxiety increases dramatically and I feel like crying. The worst, though, is when I get into an argument with a significant other, and they slam the phone down without saying "I love you" to me. That sequence of events has resulted in the only two panic attacks I've ever had in my entire life.

yetanotherlurker · 1 year

When I was about 10 years old I used to play on a basketball team with my brother as part of a Boys and Girls Club. On the nights we played a team of younger kids would play before us on half court with two hoops perpendicular to the usual basket. Some parents and coaches would sit on a bench at half court cheering, while others sit in the traditional bleachers.

One night as I was watching the game waiting for our turn to play suddenly the bench at half court goes flying toward the game. Instantly a man is on top of a woman beating the hell out of her where the bench was located a fraction of a second before. The crowd in the bleachers screams and in a moment several guys have the asshole; one on each arm and one pounding on his torso. People are screaming for them to let him go.

I start to rush over to the brawl but had to stop myself quickly. I noticed a red color in my peripheral vision and look down. I nearly stepped in a large puddle of blood quickly forming around the neck of the woman who had been beaten. I realized that he had not been punching her, but stabbing her. Her throat had been slashed, and later I found out that she had been stabbed in the heart.

A loved one sat at her side crying desperately while placing a purple windbreaker over her neck. Her son ran to her but a man prevented him from seeing her. Her son had been playing in the game moments before. The look in her eyes was terrifyingly vacant.

She died either that night or the next day. I heard the murderer was her brother, although it was so long ago that I'm not sure of this. I still wonder about her son.

epicleptic · 1 year

I saw my mother being dragged away kicking and screaming by doctors and policemen when I was seven. She's schizophrenic. She had to be sectioned again recently because she stopped taking her pills. It's not nice to watch.

FetishOutOfNowhere · 1 year

Was in Amsterdam when i was 7. Parents were sleeping in the hotel room. I was flipping through channels looking for cartoons. Let's just say that image of two penises and that girl's face are burned in my mind forever.

assassinatra · 1 year

When I was about 5 or 6, I was trying to watch a tape of Follow That Bird, (a Sesame Street movie), and I knew how to work the VCR and everything myself. My parents had taped it off TV onto another tape, along with other shows. I knew I had to fast forward the tape towards the end to see the movie I wanted. And when I hit play, instead of seeing Big Bird, I saw the theater rape scene from A Clockwork Orange (which was on the tape before, then taped partly over). I didn't really understand what was happening, but I remember being shocked that the woman was nude, and shouted "Mommy! That woman is NAKED!" Then my mother ran over, RIPPED the entire VCR out of the wall, and chewed my dad a new asshole because it was his tape supposedly. It wasn't until my late teens when I saw the movie in its entirety that I realized what had happened and why it was a big deal.

TL;DR: At 6 yrs. old, I wanted Sesame Street. I got A Clockwork Orange.

BloodsVsCrepes · 1 year

When I was very small, maybe 3, I saw a cool-looking stick and reached for it. It was a stick insect, and it started running up my arm.

I began screaming hysterically, jumping up and down and flapping my arms wildly. My mom ended up throwing a pan of cold water on me to shock me into calming down.

I have been deeply distrustful of everything ever since.

GarretJax · 1 year

Not sure how old I was at the time, but I was fairly young (10 yrs or younger). I was sitting on the couch in the t.v. room downstairs watching 'Blazing Saddles' for the first time. My father comes downstairs and asks me what I am watching. I tell him Blazing Saddles. He asks me what it is about. I start telling him "well this nigger has just been made sheriff...and these niggers...." See at the time I had no idea what the meaning of 'nigger' was. I had no idea what 'negro' meant either. None of this had ever been taught to me and I just thought nigger meant person with black skin just as caucasian meant person with white skin. My dad lost it. He charges at me and picks me up from the couch and just starts hitting me. He's yelling at me and telling me how horrible I am and that he never wants to hear me say 'nigger' ever again. I was so hurt. I had no idea what I had done wrong. I was just explaining the movie the way I understood it using the same language that was in the movie. My dad never explained to me what the word meant or why not to use it. For the longest time after that I just thought that my dad hated black people. I couldn't understand it at all. It was a couple of years later that I actually learned how nigger was offensive. All I know is that I learned to always explain things to my children instead of flying off the handle at them.

cheshiregrins · 1 year

Condensed version: A real estate agent ruined Christmas for me when I was 7.

Whole Story: When I was 7 we had just moved to a new house and it was our first Christmas there. After opening all of my gifts I had retired to the family room to watch the movie Scrooged. It was around this time that my mother had come up to me and said "Oh I just got a call from Santa. He said he sent one of your gifts to the old house so he's going to be coming by to give it to you". Naturally my response was "Holy shit I love presents AND I love Santa this is gonna be awesome!" (not in those words mind you but you get the idea). So I sat there eagerly awaiting him to come and give me my final gift for about thirty minutes. Now obviously my parents don't have the kind of pull to get the REAL Santa so they got my dad's fellow real estate agent friend to dress up like Santa and stop by to give me the gift. The problem with this was the man was a raging alcoholic. Apparently he got hammered at 9am and forgot he had promised my parents this so he literally ran to our house to make sure he was on time.... So back to my seven year old mind frame. I hear a knock on the window and look over to see this sweaty derelict looking Santa who had lost the hat, the wig, he had the beard falling off and the shirt was coming undone literally pawing at our window breathing heavily on the window with sweat pouring down his face holding my present in a black garbage bag.... needless to say I was terrified. After roughly an hour and half of crying in my room I finally opened the present and it ended up being a Sega Master system which in retrospect was one of the best gifts I have ever gotten.

But that is the most traumatizing experience of my childhood.. and to top it off I ALWAYS see his face in the real estate listings in my home town.

nettiecat · 1 year

I was raped by a family friend at age 6.

agrippaz · 1 year

It was 1995, I was 12, and in sixth grade. On the playground at my school, there were parallel bars made of steel tube, exactly like this:

http://www.aaastateofplay.com/images/511-108.jpg

Kids would play a game called "Pile-On" in which they would enter between the bars on both sides and push against each other, and whoever was able to push the other beyond the end of the bars won. Imagine these slashes are people lined up pushing against each other:

///////////////////\\\\\\\\\\

Often, several students would be pushing on each side, a sort of reverse tug-of-war. Occasionally, up to around 60 kids would participate, so many that the line of kids pushing extended far beyond the bars and there was a large amount of force going on. Eventually one side would overcome the other and the momentum of everyone's pushing would cause everyone to go streaming into a big pile of bodies on the losing side.

I heard the cry "Pile-On!" announced and noticed that quite a large episode of the game was going on involving more kids than I'd seen doing this before. I was apparently very late to arrive, and was all the way on the end of what was to be the losing side. It was my first and last time participating in this.

After only around thirty seconds of my arrival, the tide rapidly turned against my side and everyone was pushed backward. I lost my footing and fell backward onto my back, and an enormous number of students piled on top of me. I was on the very bottom of hundreds of pounds of bodies. It was very dark. Right away I tried to scream "I can't breathe!" But all I got out was "I ca…" and my lungs were completely compressed with no air left. I could not inhale at all, and every part of my body was pinned.

After some time, my vision started to turn bright red and I saw rapid flashes. I got a vivid mental picture of where the ambulance would park that would come for me. I saw myself being lifted in while shocked students stood around watching. I thought "this is going to be a really stupid way to die." I tried hard to remember if I knew how long a person could go without breathing. That was my last memory. I was positive that I was in the process of dying.

I regained consciousness after what seemed to be a long time, laying where I was crushed, in the wood chips. I was surprised to be alive. The entire playground was empty, students had been called inside for lunch. I estimated that I was unconscious for about 20 minutes. I was very dizzy and disoriented. Eventually I got up and stumbled into school in a daze and joined the other students at lunch. I didn't eat, and I spent the rest of the day in a very strange, distant trance. A student who saw what happened said to me in the afternoon said "Dude, are you okay? Your face was blue and your lips were completely purple."

I don't understand why nobody helped me and everyone left me there alone. Maybe they thought they'd killed me on accident and nobody wanted to be the one to seem responsible for it by telling an adult. They just left me alone on the ground.

I've never told anyone about this.

1 year

[deleted]

Pagan-za · 1 year

I once walked into my grandparents having sex.

:(

Thats why i can't eat raisins anymore :(

FluoCantus · 1 year

This was my first experience with death other than grandparents I didn't really know...

I was in first grade and my best friend's name was Aaron. He was in second grade, very athletic and the kid that everyone wanted to be and for some reason he hung out with me.

So one day over the weekend we were playing in his backyard and I kicked a ball over the half-size chain-link fence. His dad was grilling on the other side but had left it open unattended. He went to climb the fence and his foot got stuck inside one of the holes and he fell over the fence onto the grill and the lid closed down onto him. I just stood there while he was screaming, not knowing what to do. He was nearly dead when his parents got to him and had died by the time the ambulance got there.

It's the most vivid memory I have of anything. I distinctly remember the smell.

marthaaa · 1 year

My earliest memory is of my mom holding me in the hallway outside my room at bedtime. I was probably 3. I must have been in a bad mood or something, plus I was 3 and didn't really know what I was saying. My mom was about to hand me over to my dad, who was going to put me to bed. I yelled "NO!" and my mom asked me what was wrong. I glared at my dad and said "I love mommy more than daddy." My mom tried to do damage control, saying "that's not true!" but I had said it.

I can still see my dad staring at me for a second with his mouth hanging open, and then his head and shoulders dropping.

I've always had a stronger relationship with my mom, but I do get along well with my dad too. Obviously I didn't really mean it and was only 3. But I'm 20 now and every time I think about that I still feel terrible.

digitalmediamaster · 1 year

Mine is nothing compared to others, but I dropped a glass decorative angel probably worth 10 dollars at a Randall's when I was 4 and the store manager screamed at me while I was crying and told me I should have to pay for it. We've gone to Kroger ever since.

bigfitz · 1 year

I was in my teens, don't remember exactly. Home by myself watching TV when I heard a loud noise... didn't think too much of it. A bit later, i see a bunch of flashing lights through one of the windows and go outside to check it out. Two guys laying in the street, a trashed motorcycle, cops looking over the scene and paramedics just arriving.

I stood there watching the paramedics work. Both riders were still alive. First one was pretty quiet, but still breathing and shaking a bit. He wasn't wearing a helmet and was trying to talk, but it wasn't making sense... just random babbling. The other one was wearing a helmet and all i could hear was a muffled screaming. I'd never heard a grown man scream before, and hope never to again.

The paramedics were trying to asses the situation and the condition of the men. I don't remember exactly why, but the paramedics attempted to move the 1st guy a bit... maybe lifting his neck to put a brace on? In any event, as they lifted his head, what I can only assume was brain matter started to fall out. They put his head back down and turned it slightly, revealing what I'd already guessed... skidding accross the concrete road helmetless had scraped the back of his skull off. His brain was being held in his head by the road.

I guess there wasn't much they could do for him, because they left him there and went to work on the screaming guy. Several minutes later, the first guy died, all alone, while everyone else was focused on the other guy. I should have gone over there or something. No one should die alone. But I was too scared.

To this day, I hate motorcycles.

1 year

[deleted]

theshame · 1 year

Reposted from a previous thread:

I had a friend (let's call him Jim) and he had an older brother (let's call him Kyle) who was tall and strong. Kyle would let me and Jim take turns being folded up inside the foldout sofa-bed while he lifted it up and and down. It was a big thrill for a young kid.

Well, one day Jim and I were alone in my family's vacation house. We decided we could fold each other up on our own. I went in the bed first, he folded me up, and I went for a ride. Next he got in the bed. I folded him up, and lifted the bed, then dropped it all the way into the couch. Completely folded up, Jim was yelling to get him out. I panicked right away and could not lift him. I remember distinctly thinking that this was when my superhuman strength was supposed to kick in. But it wasn't happening. I ran out into the street and screamed for help. Some bewildered guy followed me back into the house and after some confusion, unfolded the bed. Jim was a little red-faced, but he was fine. He'd probably been in there about 3-4 minutes total. I felt like a complete asshole for the rest of the vacation, and I got really embarrassed about it for years afterwards.

daniellejuice · 1 year

I remember when I was very young, my neighbor friend and i found a baby rabbit nest in her bushes along side of her house. They were so tiny, i dont believe their eyes were open just yet. One day, while we were having a lemon-aid stand in my driveway (about 5 feet away from said bush/nest) a stray dog wonders by and begins locating a place to urinate. I didnt pay much attention to it until i heard the death-squeeks. It had found the baby bunnies and began to SAVAGELY rip them apart, within arms reach. We both looked over as the dog swung its head from side to side with a bunny corpse in its jaws. This slung bunny blood all over our lemonaid stand and whatever sun dresses we were wearing that day. We were covered in rabbit bits, and ran inside screaming hystarically. I can only imagine what my mother was thinking when she saw two little girls run into the house covered in blood.

[deleted] · 1 year

When I was 12(ish) I was golfing at a course near a small town airport. An air show was on and I saw a single seater airplane crash fifty yards away from me. I ran over to see if I could help. The man was decapitated.

dubyabinlyin · 1 year

It's not your fault, man. Forgive yourself.

throwoutyo · 1 year

Age 12 an older friend and neighbor (2-3 years older, we are both guys) invited me to his house to see their pool. After he gave me a tour around their house, we went into one of the rooms near the pool and he locked the door behind us. He pretty much asked to rape me, told me that it is going to happen whether I like it or not and that I should just give up and let him have his way with me. I'm 24 years old now, I've never in my life felt as scared as I did that day, I cried as I begged him to let me out but he refused. I kept circling the room simply lost, I did not know what to do. Fortunately there was a sharp metal stick in the corner (I don't even what they are called or what they are used for, I think they are used in grilling) as I was about to pick it up he laughed and told me that he was just kidding (he wasn't) and opened the door. I was ready to stab him with it in the chest if he didn't. I just can't imagine what my life would have been like if he did rape me that day, I don't think I would have been able to handle the memory, the low self-esteem and self loathing that it would have caused me. I have never told anyone about this, I probably should have, I know that fucker must have done the same thing to some other kid.

kmbrly88 · 1 year

I haven't spoken this aloud in many, many years.

When I was in 4th or 5th grade we had a dog. I loved her dearly. My parents (not too bright, unconcerned with animal safety) attached her collar to a length of chain and tied the chain to a light post in the front yard.

One day there was a really bad thunderstorm. I asked if we could bring the dog in because it was so windy but was denied. I looked out the door just in time to see lightning strike the transformer. The electricity flowed through the wires, down the pole, through the chain, and straight into my dog.

I remember seeing her jump up an impossible height and hearing her death yelp. She landed on her side with her mouth hanging open. There was steam coming off her tongue. It was fucking terrible.

StopIgnoringMe · 1 year

I'm 19 so this probably isn't a part of my childhood, but I can't remember any moment worse than right now. My dad called me earlier today and told me that they've found a tumor in one of his kidneys. I feel so fucking lost right now.

Sorry, just had to tell someone, somewhere.

abeuscher · 1 year

When I was five I bit my old man hard on the ass while we were at a cocktail party or some kind of gathering. He smacked me wicked hard on the face (he didn't know it was me - to him it was just something biting his ass) and I fell over backwards.

This may not qualify as the MOST traumatizing because even at five years old I remember understanding more or less exactly what had happened and realizing quite soberly that ass-biting was probably not a good idea in the future. And now I find myself hardly biting anyone in the ass at all. So... lesson learned?

Oh and also when I was 4 I got left in the bathtub for 14 hours because my mother forgot about me and fell asleep. Talk about pruny hands!

henny_316 · 1 year

My parents were out of town ~250 miles away and my great grandfather was watching my sister (3 y.o.) and me (7 y.o.). He collapsed and died right in front of me due to complications from smoking. He had smoked tobacco from a pipe most of his life.

In 5th grade, with help from a mechanical engineer uncle, I reverse engineered a bicycle pump to extract air rather than push. I hooked up surgical tubing to a cylinder with 2 cotton balls and "smoked" cigarettes through the system. I used as many brands as I could get people leaving the cigarette vendor to donate (my mom was there with me, I ended up with appx 50 cigarette varieties.) I mounted the cotton balls with the tar/nicotine/etc to a science fair display board along with the pre-smoke and post-smoke weight of the cotton balls as measured with a hand built scale from the uncle (we couldn't find/afford any manufactured scale that would measure in that small of an increment. I made it as far as district which I also won but being a 5th grader, wasn't allowed to take it to regionals. I ended up briefing Cannon Air Force Base's leadership at their request and donated the project to the hospital for their smoking cessation classes.

During high school, I spent 3 years collecting data (asking mall patrons if they would still shop/eat at smoke free stores, etc). I had over 15,000 signatures on surveys and it was around 92% in favor of going smoke free. At 17 years old, I took the results to my city town hall meeting and presented them to the mayor. Shortly after, the town voted on going smoke-free in all public places (appx 2 years before California did it as a state.) My data was used by Las Cruces and Albuquerque NM as well and they are now smoke free in public places (last I heard.)

I can still see my great grandfather wincing in pain like it was yesterday. Although I will never bring it up to a smoker that they should stop, I will go out of my way to help them quit if they ask me to.

Boomer_K · 1 year

When I was seven, my parents and I went shopping at a mall. My mother was ready-to-pop pregnant. I went with my dad while she went off on her own. We were all supposed to meet back in front of a large fountain after two hours. The two hours came and went, with my immature,angry father working up a good boil as we waited. When she finally showed up, it was closer to three hours. My father made a huge, obscenity filled scene and stormed off with me, my mother following in tears as she begged him to calm down. He dragged me by the arm, purposefully going too fast for a woman who was eight months pregnant to keep up with.

When we got to the truck, she was fifty feet away. He waited until she was almost there, then started the engine and had me open the door. I thought it was to let her in. He instead screamed more obscenities at her and ordered me to close the door. In those days, I was very frightened of him, so I obeyed. I slammed the door in my pregnant mother's face as he sped away.

That was twenty seven years ago, and I still remember the look on her face. The look that said "I've just been betrayed by my firstborn". The look that shows hurt as deep as it gets. To this day, I still feel ashamed at my cowardice. That I didn't get out of the truck and go with her. I know many people have way worse stuff than this, but I was forever altered by this day.

cadmiumgrey · 1 year

When I was in 5th grade, my dad tried to kill himself.

I remember laying on the couch that night, sobbing, wondering what was so wrong with me that he didn't want to be my dad any more.

keepitupstairs · 1 year

I was repeatedly molested by two brothers and an uncle.

[deleted] · 1 year

I had testicular torsion when I was seven.

Ugh, it still makes me shudder.

denzelandme · 1 year

Hey guys this is my first post ever, I wrote this passage a few months ago about my dad passing away when I was 16, I am 24 now.

Holy shit, I am watching my dad die. His arms are pulled tightly to his chest, his hands in fists right under his chin like someone is taking a portrait shot of him. He's not wearing a shirt and making a sound like he is choking on a jolly rancher and his eyes are bulging. My mother is panicking but some what calm, she is hiding their bag of pot and ashtray full of roaches underneath a pile of clothes in the closet. I start to shout his name in a warbly tone, My mom tells me to pull it together and hand me a vacuum to get rid of all the pot crumbs which surround the bed. Dad looked at me in the eyes, but I'm not sure if he could actually see me. My mother starts shouting the last things she will ever get to say to him again "----,I love you!, I love you,----". I can still hear it clear as day if I choose to. The next thing I was told to do was call my brother on the cell phone we all shared. Good thing he decided to take it, otherwise he would have come home to a major surprise. He didn't pick up, so I leave him a message "----,dad had a heart attack you should probably come home". The ambulance hasn't arrive yet, where are they?. I got outside and see they have just pulled up, but across the street and start rushing towards the neighbors yard. I shout "Yo!" to catch their attention and they instantly change direction to our front door. They rush up the stairs ,run into my parents room and shut the door. Mom and I know their attempts to save his life are in vain. We knew this day was going to come sooner or later, because of his previous heart attack which obviously but just barely survived. The doctors referred to it as the "Widow Maker". It left less than 48% of his heart functioning and gave him the life estimate of 2 years. But he kept kicking for an extra 5 more than expected, no wonder we went to Disney World. My brother is home now and he has this look on his face as if he received a gift that he was too polite to say he does not like. Its eyes of distress mixed with a weak smile. He tells my mom that dad is going to be fine and then I do the same,. But we all know its not true. Mom start to murmuring a prayer, it's the first time I have ever heard or seen her do anything remotely religious. We all sit down at the kitchen table, just as one of the paramedics comes out of the room. He walks over to us and begins to give my mom the run down of what's going on. "Its not looking good, he is not responding to the diffibulators" which he says in a tone of emotionless professionalism. He goes on to say "he was only running on…", My mother interrupts "yes, only 48% of his heart". The paramedic begins to make inquires about his date of birth but slips up and asks "What was his date of birth?", Which drove the nail in the mental coffin where I already placed him years ago. The paramedic returns to the bedroom, only to come out moments later with the others carrying my father down the steps on a gurney while he lays motionless. We quickly put on our coats and follow the ambulance in my brothers Mercury Sable. The instant we enter the waiting room, a tall this female doctor with long curly hair approaches us but only looks to my mother. She says that they did all they could, but he just did not make it. She then asks if we would like to see him one last time. Mom declines, but ---- and I agree. The doctor leads us into a room with a large desk, where all four of the paramedics who were just at our house are sitting, staring at us with expressions of incredible grief. Right across from the desk are those curtained off sections where they keep patients until that have a room available. Which until now, I have only seen on "E.R". The doctor pulls back the curtain and excuses herself. We are now alone with our dad who passed away less than an hour before, the only way I could describe it is really strange. My brother told me to touch dads hands, I don't want to. I can only really remember things if I don't get too emotionally involved, because then the facts become blurred with feeling and the mental images become unclear. Dad looked really at ease, like he was dozing pool side. We only stay for a few minutes, until we decide to go find Mom. We pass by the paramedics again, this time I make eye contact with one of them. Their look says "I'm sorry, you must be devastated". But really I'm not shook up, its just going to be strange not having around now, the man I've seen every day for the past sixteen and a half years. We find mom in a small room talking with the same doctor who broke the news to us earlier. She says we can stay for as long as we'd like so we could collect ourselves. My brother says something about how we can feel dads spirit all around us. Like when we were hanging out with Dads corpse, we only stick around for a few minutes before we head back to the car. Mom requests that we stop at the super market so we can purchase some memorial candles. So, my brother pulls into the parking lot and heads into the store. Its silent for a few moments, before I decide to break it by asking the questions you are supposed to "What are we going to do now?" She responds with "just keep on living". Then I dish out "I didn't think it would happen like this" she tells me "this is how it happens". Before I could ask anything else, my brother returns and we ride back home with no other words being exchanged. When we get back home, mom lights the candles and places them on the windowsill in the kitchen. My brother says he's going to bed and then if we need anything that we should just knock on his door. I decide to just sit and zone out in the living room for a while, until I hear Mom scurrying around in the bedroom. She is cleaning up all the medical wrappers left by the paramedics. I offer to help tidy up, but she refuses. So I float over to my room and lie down in bed, Mom pokes her head in for a second and says I should turn on the television so I can relax. I tell her that I feel it would be disrespectful to do so, she agrees and that's the last I see of her for the night. As I begin to drift off to sleep I decide to leave the light on, Just Incase dad comes home.

SpearNmagicHelmet · 1 year

i'm gonna go with reading this post.

1 year

[deleted]

b__d · 1 year

When I was 7 or 8, my family visited relatives of my stepfather. They lived on a farm, and had an electric fence surrounding their pasture. Their oldest of two sons coerced me to touch it. I did, and of course got the piss shocked out of me.

My mom then called me to get in the car to leave, not knowing what'd happened. I sat in the back seat quietly for the next half-hour or so, until my mom looked back at me and noticed I was white with fear. When asked what was wrong, I replied, "Mom, I got electrocuted and I'm going to die." It took a lot of convincing for me to believe that only some people who are shocked by electricity die, and that it happens immediately.

Thanks mom for being a kind person. I would've terrorized the little fucker.

jmcstar · 1 year

I was about 9 years old at a parent's friend’s house and I was playing hide and seek with another kid. It was about 1977, so electrical safety was not really a concern yet. I crawled behind this big TV set that everyone was watching.

As I got the very back, it felt like a rush of magnetic force slammed me onto the floor and pinned me down. Apparently, I brushed up against an exposed electrical wire. I remember trying to get up, but the force was too strong. It didn’t stop either, no one noticed what was happening so I just sat there getting electrified. After about a minute, I felt the same force that pinned me down, slowly lift me up. I was lying with my back down as I slowly rose higher and higher. I turned my head to the right, and was able to look out the window, and as I approached the ceiling, I could see a garden hose wrapped against the outside house that was only viewable from a very steep angle.

I almost reached the ceiling by whatever was lifting me, then it disappeared and I fell like 7 feet back down and SLAMMED into the ground. My whole body was tired, I wanted to sleep. I look up and all the parents around panicked standing around me. I seemed to be OK, so no ambulance ride for me (In 1977 they just tell you "rub some dirt on it or shake it off").

It wasn’t until I was in my 20's until I carefully looked back at that memory and realized that the rising up to the ceiling may have been an out of body experience. That memory traumatizes me to this day.

I don’t tell anyone really, because you start talking "out of body experience" and people get that "yeah right" look.

Codeegirl · 1 year

My biological mother would kill my pets if I loved them too much. (In her crazy-ass opinion of course) She did a lot to me, but killing the innocent pets is too much.

My cats would somehow know I was starving (one of her punishments for me was not letting me eat) and they'd bring me the mice/birds they caught. They'd bring them right to my room, sneaking them past her. They'd drop them usually right on my bed then look at me strange, wondering why I don't just eat it. I never got to the point of eating anything they brought me, but fuck it was and is heartwarming remembering what they'd do for me.

I miss each and every one she got to.

gusbustafunk · 1 year

Seeing my dad tackle my mom to the ground and punch her repeatedly during a drunken argument that arose specifically because I left my skateboard out in the rain. They began marriage counseling not long after that but I will never forget sitting on the stairs to the kitchen screaming in horror as my dad beat up my mom.

you'll need to login or register to do that

create a new account

login