My dad walks barefoot a lot (in the garden) and has really hard horny skin on his feet that's really scratchy. When moving around in his sleep, he scratches on the bed sheets, which leaves a lot of small holes on his side of the bed sheet. When I was a child, I didn't make the connection and asked my mom about it; she told me as a joke that the holes are there because my dad farts too much. Since then I always was afraid to fart when I had clothes on because I feared getting holes in them, and whenever someone else has holes in their bed sheets or pants, my first thought is still "they farted too heavily"
I wasn't sexually abused, but both parents walked in on me masturbating in the shower at different times, mulitple times, when i was around six or seven. an older cousin walked in on me when i was naked, i think i was 11. my brother's friend secretly watched me as i watched porn, i was 8. my dad confronted me about watching porn. actually it wasn't porn, just people kissing, but to him, it was the same. i had a panic attack and cried, hyperventilated, wailed, and tried to rip my phone out of his hands but I couldn't. my parents, i don't remember which one, put a vibrator in my room when i was young, before i hit puberty, and i started to masturbate with it a lot. then one day my mom sat me on her lap and asked me where i use the vibrator, she touched my shoulders, back, stomach, and asked, "do you use it here?" I said no. she put her hands on my inner thighs and said "how about here?" I lied and said no again, feeling ashamed and like my secret had been discovered. my parents went to therapy one year and came back acting really hyper sexual in front of me and my brother. they would make out, my mom would give my dad her bra and he would put it on his head and smelled it. when we went camping one day my dad asked my mom to give him her underwear and she said she had been wearing it for days, he said "even better" and started to sniff it right in front of me, i was around ten. they would make out in the car as me and my brother had no choice but to watch. i masturbated publicly in the pool using the water jets before i even knew what i was doing and my mom didn't stop me and tell me i should stop or that what i was doing was wrong. my brothers friend asked me if I wanted to get naked with him when i was less than 10 and he was around 13, i said no. that was that. i came home from school really sweaty one day and took off my clothes except from my underwear and laid down on the couch, my dad wasn't supposed to be home for hours but he walked in on me. my brother asked me to kiss him on the lips so he could see what it felt like, I didn't, it was probably a joke. i found naked pictures of girls on my fathers phone one day. i wore leggings one day when we were teenagers and my brother touched my butt. my mom walked in on me as i was about to masturbate. i was fourteen. i was under the bed sheets and i had a towel underneath me in case i squirted, the lights were off, and she came in to say goodnight, but she somehow discovered the towel underneath me and asked me what i was doing in a playful, creepy tone that told me she already knew. i was humiliated and stuttered a lie about how my legs were still wet from the shower. i was so scared after that that i couldn’t masturbate that night. i also remember taking showers with my brother when i was extremely young, probably less than five, he must have been seven or eight, and he peed and i think a little bit splashed on me and i made myself throw up, and my mom said that i did it on purpose, so my mom had been watching us shower together. i also have a weird, vague memory of being in the shower with a man and all i can see are his legs and his penis and the green shower walls. i don’t know if i just imagined this, or if i dreamed it, but it’s one of my earliest memories, i must have been less than four. it’s such a weird memory, it literally only lasts for two seconds. it’s just me in the shower with a man and looking at his penis, and then the memory ends. maybe my dad was showering with me when i was toddler and he thought it would be okay. i don’t know if it happened or not, but i remember thinking about this memory before there was any way i could have even known what a penis looked like. my family was quite dysfunctional and i began to masturbate whenever i was angry as a coping mechanism, however because of this my mind and body are messed up now, and now i automatically feel unbearably aroused when i'm angry, and i often have to excuse myself so i can orgasm. i haven't been able to kiss anybody, talk to boys, or date anyone, it gives me extreme anxiety. i am not afraid of men, however i am so insecure about myself around them, even though i actually think i'm fairly attractive. there's a few other things i can't bring myself to list on here do to shame. i was never touched, raped, or assaulted, but i still struggle with sexual things and i don't know how to date people.
When I was a kid, I'd beg my parents to let me take all my plushies with me to vacation trips. I thought they'd get lonely without me so I didn't want to leave a single one behind. I slept with all of them too. This memory comes to me whenever I see plushies.
When I was a kid, I'd often get so absorbed in a book that I wouldn't notice what was happening in the room or if someone was talking. Nowadays I can't read three lines without losing focus because my thoughts keep interrupting me. I wonder if I've ruined my attention span by browsing random shit on the internet too much or why this has happened.
I wish I could afford to live somewhere with a fireplace. I love them so much. I love the warmth, I love the smell, I love staring into the fire and dozing off on the couch because I feel that relaxed. I miss it.
I just realized my wife looks just like my childhood crush. Crysta from Ferngully. I guess I have a type.
One time when I was younger (maybe 10 or 11 years old) my grandma on my mom's side was reading the paper and said someone with the same name as my uncle on my dad's side was in the section for arrest warrants. She didn't know it was actually him and didn't mean to upset me. She was just reading the paper, saw a familiar name, and said it before thinking. I wasn't mad at her for telling me. But it did upset me for awhile that my uncle got arrested and I didn't understand why he'd do that (check fraud). It's not a terribly wrong crime, not murder or anything, but still a shock to my innocent mind. He was my favorite uncle. I still have the stuffed Dalmatian he gave me when I was 4. I just didn't want to believe he could do something so bad. A few months ago, I was reading the warrants page from my hometown, thinking I'd find someone from high school on there since one of my old classmates shared it, and that same uncle was on there. This time for drugs. That I understand even less. He had two small children in the house, what if they saw him high? Or got in his stash? He's also getting divorced because he apparently beat up his wife. Since his ex wife has drug and mental health issues too, my grandma on my dad's side is taking care of his sons. I still love him since he's family, but he needs some serious help. 10 year old me would be devastated right now.
Back when I was not even old enough to go to school, it hadn't occurred to me that different skintones exist. If someone's skin was beige or brown, I assumed that it was just a tan. So when I saw a black person for the first time, I thought "Wow. I didn't know people could get that tan, cool!" The dumbness of me... lol For reference I live in a country where most people are white.
At what point does someone count as white to the average white person? Like my kids are half Euro/half Philippine raised in the US. Obviously Asians won't accept anyone who isn't over 95%. Like, would my kids count? Would my grandkids? Growing up my best friend was 75% white 25% native American and he always counted as white.
As a child/teenager, I used to trace and copy other people's artwork and then tell people it's my own. I did this because I loved drawing, but I sucked at it and failed to understand that this isn't a talent you're just born with, but that you have to practise to get there. I was ashamed of my own drawings, I felt they were too bad for someone who likes doing it. I feel bad for that now, because I lied to people, especially to my parents who always were so proud of me.