What is your worst childhood memory?

Question

For me it was at my cottage when I was 3. My scumbag junkie of a father was watching me and wanted me to go in the water. I at the time had no interest in the water, when I was young for some reason I hated water.

He decided I was going in anyway and that it was time to start learning to swim, so threw me off the end of the dock, went and sat in his cot on the beach and left me there.

Fortunately my mom got to the beach about two minutes after I went in. I still carry a scar under my left eye from a nail on the end of the dock. At least some good came of it, my mom threw him out after that.

I think it is a statement of my life that yahoo tried to post this in jokes and riddles.

Answer 1

When i was about five and could not swim AT ALL. my father and older sister took me in the ocean. I got dunked and they could not find me. I can still remember to this day opening up my eyes and seeing them search for me.
I have never been in the ocean since

Answer 2

Nail? Eye? Yowouch! I'm cringing at the mere thought...

My worst memory? Well I tend to forget the really bad ones and can't recall them until something in particular dredges it up...then I can't wait to bury them again.

At the moment the worst one I can recall now is, oddly enough, another injury at the beach. I was 12 and it was school holidays, when kids came to stay in nearby houses. I always made the best of it as it was the only time I ever got to play with other children.

We were in the water running and this other kid elbowed me. He bent my little finger back and the next to as well. There was this sort of funny sound and it hurt like hell and I fell over head first into the water and couldn't get back up as all I could think of was the pain. I eventually got up and stumbled home, bawling my eyes out, which being 12 I rarely did.

It had barely started to swell by the time I got home, so my father said "Shut up and stop being a drama queen". Mum sent me to my room to quiten down. Well the next day, my entire hand was bruised black, the veins were sticking out and it was swollen like a baseball mit, right down to my wrist.

It was bruised for a few months and about six months before I could move the fingers without pain. No doctor. Mum gave me a piece of ripped sheet to tie it up with. With the humidity of summer, it's flared up again so I pretty much can't forget it because it hurts like hell.

I mentioned it to my mother the other night on the phone and she said "Well if it hurts, why don't you go to the doctor?"

?!?!?!?

Answer 3

My mother left me to nap on the diving board of a swimming pool at age 1 and 1/2 and I rolled off it (on purpose) and into the water. That was not my scariest memory. I used to have night terrors at around age 4 or 5. I dreamed that a huge mallet ("order in the court" type) would come out of the wall behind my bed to hit me on the head. I would try to scream and call for my parents, but could not because I suffered from sleep paralysis. This stopped about a year later.

Answer 4

Actually, I have worse memories than the one I'm about to tell, but those would be too painful and too private to go into here, so here's the least of the worst:

It seems that I also had a scumbag for a father(at least according to my mother), but never knew him. Maybe that was a good thing, but I'll never know.

The closest thing I had to a father during the first five years of my life was my grandfather. Now, he was a drunk, but he was actually a pretty funny drunk. Sometimes, in his drunkenness, he would do some very stupid things. One memory I have is of him having a friend over, and just for a laugh, they decided it would be fun to see what a four-year-old's reaction to swallowing whiskey would be.

For some reason I knew what they had planned, so I remember cowering behind a sofa hoping they wouldn't find me and force me to take that drink. I remember my grandfather saying, "Come on, it's just Pepsi! Get over here and have a drink!" They both laughed. They must have thought they were so clever to fool a small child.

Well, I knew that I really had no choice because they were two grown men and I couldn't outrun or outfight them, so I complied with their wishes and took a big swig from the bottle. Of course, the whiskey tasted horrible and I didn't even spit it out because I figured they'd make me take another drink anyway, so I swallowed it. Boy, did I get a stomachache.

For some reason, I never told my mother about what he did until I was a teenager. My mother, my sister and I lived with my grandfather for the first seven years of my life, so I pretty much had to endure things like that for all those years.

Answer 5

Having my mum beat me up/mentally abuse me. She would punch me in the face/nose, give me 15 minute nose bleeds that left the house covered in blood, scratch my face and arms until they bled, kicked me, slap my face, twist my arms and finger and nipples, pull my hair extremely hard, and sit on my whilst she had her hands on my throat. And a few times she chased me around the house with a big kitchen knife threataning to kill me. That's not to mention the emotional/mental abuse she put me through. To be honest, I think she acutally is a sociopath/physcopath. Oh, and having a bunch of jealous girls bully me when I first started secondary school, there was this beast of a girl (she looked like a man) who was determined to make my life hell, especially because she had the iq of a carrot, so she was jealous that i was prettier and smarter than her. Anyways..I'm happy I'm finally an adult now. Sorry I couldn't find a joke to put at the end of here

Answer 6

For me. I was three and sitting at the end of the stairs as my mother came running down, trying to escape my father. he cut her off at the locked front door, cornering her...where he proceeded to beat her bloody. all she could do was scream "not in front of the children." My little sister was screaming in her walker and my older sister was sobbing on the couch. I just sat there, watching. Eventually the beating stopped and she was able to scramble to the door and run off. I remember the smeered blood on the door and the wall adjacent the door. She was gone for several months after than, which felt like an eternity. When she came back she 'kidnapped' us. As the police pulled her over since my dad reported her. The cop let us go and told my mom not to worry, that he would do an all-call to make sure no one else would pull her over. I remember the cop, just not as well as I used to.
To this day, I still don't talk to my father...though my sisters do.
And they all wonder why.
I think your dad and my dad should going hunting together...and then...i think you and I should go hunting about 5 minutes after them.

Answer 7

The worst....?

Well, so much of my former life, particularly my childhood, is blocked from my memory. This, however, sticks out in my mind:

I was always fragile and in poor health when I was a child, and had a terrible time being bullied; at one point, I was beaten rather harshly by my schoolmates.

My mother's reaction? I was beaten a second time, this time by her, because I was no good at fighting and defending myself. I was then told that every time I was thrashed by my schoolmates I could expect a second thrashing for not fighting well. My mother was raised that men were to fight, to be tough, and I was none of those things.

I learned to take my beatings in silence after that.

Answer 8

I was born without a pituitary gland and was an early recipiant of Human Growth Hormone which was given as a grant by the NIH, with a stipulation that I had to be a test subject for science. It was tough enough having a hellish childhood of constant injections of dead peoples pituitaries, but the frequent medical testing was the worst, bloodwork like glucose tolerance tests, and something really heinous called the fat aspirator test, in which they would suck the fat and muscle tissues out of your butt with a giant syringe and then grow your cells in a petrie dish to see if they would subdivide. That test is so painful I lived in dread of it and I still get nightmares about it.

Answer 9

Such a bad memory I feel so bad for you :(

I hope you are very proud of your mom for protecting you from your dad

I unfortunately have many worst memories I was molested by my father and it started at a very young age. I finally got up the courage to tell my mom, my father of course denied it all and my mom believed him so her reaction to my "lie" was to beat me.

My mom went on to have more children with him and since she didn't believe me my dad kept molesting me till I ran away from home and ended up being in a couple of horrible relationship. I traded one form of abuse for another. I had a horrible childhood, youth and past. So I was really messed up by what my father did he ruined a good part of my life...

I still have nightmares it sucks :(

There are more worst memories but I think I would be writing my response to your question all day and some are graphic and not worth remembering (not that the one I shared is worth remembering or mentioning either) even though most of these memories haunt me.

(((Hugs for you & all friends)))

Answer 10

School was hard for me socially because people felt I was ugly. Whether or not I was is irrelevent: All that should have mattered was who I was.

The fact some kids would pick fights with me.
In seventh grade, I put down my glasses to eat lunch, someone pulled a trick on me and someone stole my glasses and did something with it. I didn't get them back, and I was in trouble when I got home.

When I was in 7th grade, I got kick from behind up stairs, and flew down. I hurt my head really bad, but luckily, I was conscious. Someone in 8th grade was sweet enough to make sure I was alright. I was crying from the bad headache.
People in the 7th grade thought it was funny. Whenever someone picked a fight we me, I was NEVER the first to hit or hurl insults, but everyone always thought I started it first.

In 8th grade, for 8th grade party at school, we went to the town's aqua center. I had gone in too deep of water and not realized it. I was struggling to get back up, and someone dived in to save me. Kids were still laughing at me. I didn't have a boyfriend in junior high.

Luckily, no one picked fights with me in high school, but no one wanted to get passed the fact I "looked ugly". I was never the shallow person. I even was willing to allow some not-so-nice looking guys be my boyfriend, and they were much more kind and respectful than my one good-looking guy. Same hold true in my adult life.

When I was a senior, I finally stopped getting picked on and felt tolerated. NOT popular, BUT tolerated. I did have friends who were outside my graduating class and who were developmentally disabled.

Broken Bella, I was molested by a relative as well, when I was 6 or 7. It's too graphic to put on here the details

Sorry to hear about what happened to you!
(((((((((BEAR HUGS))))))))! I'm glad your mom left him.

Answer 11

i can empathize with you on the father thingy. When I was young my dad held me down and extinguised a cigar on my right elbow because I was being hyper and he wanted me to settle down. Karma however crazy tends to catch up with people. My uncle heard about what happened (i have NO idea how) and went to my house and before my dad could open the front door all the way my uncle had broken my dads nose.

My dad and uncle both went to jail, but my dad only after he got out of the hospital with 3 broken ribs, a fractured cheekbone a broken wrist and a broken nose.