I'm very late (I don't check my alt account too often), but I figure I'll reply anyways. Even if just for myself.
The truth is I was not a popular kid. I had food, but I've fainted once from hunger (my fault). My parent fought for a while, the screaming was not very nice to be in the middle of. Then they divorced. So I lived with one and visited the other on the weekends.
One of my siblings went to live with the other parent, so I didn't really get to grow up with them. I didn't see them much until much later as a result.
I did not like school very much, though I'm sure the teachers weren't trying to crush my spirits. They were average people doing an average job. It only crushed me inside because it's not the right environment for me. Everyone else must have been fine.
I feel like I've been lucky, though. Mental health is not a concept I've had growing up, but I've somehow eventually managed to escape. I'm in a good environment, now. I work doing something I like, for a company that has a net positive contribution to the world. It's a small weight off my shoulders that I didn't end up working for a Palantir or a Facebook, and rationalizing to myself why that's actually okay. That would have caused some serious dissonance.
I don't know if I have trauma. I feel like if you have to ask "who doesn't?", you maybe, probably do? But I don't spend a lot of time thinking about the past. It's not that I'm trying to avoid it, everything has just changed so much that it doesn't continually affect me anymore.
I suspect the conclusion is not as obvious as it might appear. On the one hand, having had a poor childhood or a very good childhood just sets your expectations for what happiness is as an adult. An adult used to opulence will think nothing is remarkable, or particularly good, while someone who has never taken it for granted will feel comparatively better, knowing that the baseline for normal used to be worse.
The truth is I was not a popular kid. I had food, but I've fainted once from hunger (my fault). My parent fought for a while, the screaming was not very nice to be in the middle of. Then they divorced. So I lived with one and visited the other on the weekends.
One of my siblings went to live with the other parent, so I didn't really get to grow up with them. I didn't see them much until much later as a result.
I did not like school very much, though I'm sure the teachers weren't trying to crush my spirits. They were average people doing an average job. It only crushed me inside because it's not the right environment for me. Everyone else must have been fine.
I feel like I've been lucky, though. Mental health is not a concept I've had growing up, but I've somehow eventually managed to escape. I'm in a good environment, now. I work doing something I like, for a company that has a net positive contribution to the world. It's a small weight off my shoulders that I didn't end up working for a Palantir or a Facebook, and rationalizing to myself why that's actually okay. That would have caused some serious dissonance.
I don't know if I have trauma. I feel like if you have to ask "who doesn't?", you maybe, probably do? But I don't spend a lot of time thinking about the past. It's not that I'm trying to avoid it, everything has just changed so much that it doesn't continually affect me anymore.
I suspect the conclusion is not as obvious as it might appear. On the one hand, having had a poor childhood or a very good childhood just sets your expectations for what happiness is as an adult. An adult used to opulence will think nothing is remarkable, or particularly good, while someone who has never taken it for granted will feel comparatively better, knowing that the baseline for normal used to be worse.
And, on the other hand, trauma.