In large part, I’m surmising, because of the firm, supportive foundation provided by your parents. Getting crapped on in the outside world and coming home to family life lived on thin, cracked ice are not conditions favorable to a grounded, mature adulthood.
exJW here. Spent the first 30 years of my life defined by the high-control group that didn’t allow holiday and birthday celebrations and many other normal growing-up things kids need to socialize and thrive. I was an outsider by design, not desire, and I’m still figuring out what it did to me.
The last two decades have been a lot of work to figure out what “normal” is along with who I am. The serendipitous explosion of creativity, free-thinking, and discovering my natural curiosities and interests have been a great adventure so far. Occasionally I still twinge when saying “Happy Birthday” to someone. And I still feel pain at lost opportunities and other things tied in with this religion that I see others go through.
What a wonderful thing to read!
I think you’re right. Even if they couldn’t do much to stop the bullying, at least I always knew I was safe at home.
Those are the most beautiful words in the English language.
(Or, translated, in any other language.)
kenobi, by any chance did you go to school in the ‘80s? It seemed to me at the time that being nice was not the way to get popular, except for people who were beautiful or well-connected or otherwise had something to offer. Absent that, the way to get popular was to make people afraid not to be your friend.
@LegendHasit, that was one of the “horrific situations” I referred to—my mother was raised JW, and I don’t think most people understand the level of abuse JW children are raised with as a matter of course. Congratulations for getting out: I imagine the price was quite high, but well worth it in the end.
My troubles started when we moved to Wisconsin on my 10th birthday, which was in 1975. So, I was in grade school there from '75 until '79 (which were the worst years), then in high school from '79 until '83 – in high school, the hazing and teasing were less, but the social isolation continued.
I was raised on a farm, and resented that I had to work a lot more than my peers. We lived way back in a holler, so there were no kids around except my siblings and me unless we had a friend over. My parents did their best, and I grew up in a loving family, but I didn’t develop as I probably should have socially. I had friends in school, but I never liked school; ironic that I’ve worked as an elementary school librarian for 16 years. I definitely wished I lived in an actual neighborhood with other kids my age close by.
Yes and yes. Thanks!
Some days I just smile and say to myself, “It’s nice to finally meet you!”
Oh, and I love listening to Christmas music all year long! 
I love that! 
See, and it’s taken me years to dial back my hatred of Christmas. I get so angry at early Christmas music, because it takes me right to the unpleasant Decembers of the 1970s and 80s when I’m not braced for it yet.
I get that other people like Christmas and I don’t want to rain on their parade, but I wish I had a way to opt out. It gets better every year, though: I’m on track to look forward to Christmas by about 2025.
See, I understand your pov, too. Christmas was NEVER a particularly good day at our house. I never knew if my parents were even going to bother with a tree and decorations. There was never a special meal. By midday usually my parents had had a fight and I’d have gone off to my room. Visiting other kids on Christmas was Not Done. It was a lonely, desolate day in our house.
We DID go to church (very observant Catholics), and in later years I was always in a choir, so the music part wasn’t tainted by the atmosphere at home.
As a child, I didn’t invite my friends over, as I was ashamed of the mess inside our house. My mother started being a hoarder at an early age, and remained so for the rest of her life.
Fortunately I realized that this was not normal and I just saw my mother as being sick in the same sense one might have a cold, and I didn’t resent her for her lack of housekeeping. So from an early age, I cleaned my room and changed my bed. I lived in the cleanest room of the house.
I do remember wishing that I could have my friends over like everyone else.
Left home when I was 13, raised by a 3rd cousin and her husband. Real father killed automobile accident, real mother an alcoholic never knew her. The woman that raised me wanted my ss check, she didn’t need it her husband made good money.
Always picked on in school, eventually the cousin and husband divorced. He met a younger woman with children and eventually had a child by her. I was not blood related and was told that by the new girlfriend. I actually still consider the man my father. He was decent.
I was the 1st kid in his new family to smoke, drink and smoke pot. The writing was on the wall, knew I should leave. I won’t talk about the first years with his 1st wife, my 3rd cousin. She was crazy and because of that, no one on the family which I was blood related really wanted anything to do with me. They felt sorry for me. Never had sleep overs, or a birthday party. In fact I found out my real birthday when I got my ss card. If you were looking in you would not have known. We had money, nice clothes, new cars, homes, a couple years I was in private school.
At the age of 6 the old nextdoor neighbor molested me for several years. I never told. Truth was the neighbors felt sorry for me and were nice. At least I was treated like someone actually cared.
Years later when the woman that raised me found out about the sexual abuse. I was bathing and she came in and said I know what that old man did. She threw a bar of Zest soap at me told to clean my self down there til it gone. She also said I’ll tell your dad (her husband) what he did. He will kill him and it will be your fault. He’ll go to jail and I’ll lose everything because of you.
For the next few years I did whatever she said. They divorced.
I had just runaway from my dad and his new girlfriends home. I called his girlfriend told I’m not coming back. I want my clothes. The next day my dad told me testify at his divorce hearing and I give you whatever you want or need. I said no.
Fast forward he’s dead, his new wife died, her children are dead, I’m the only one alive. The cousin dead. My 4 1/2 brothers my 3 1/2 sisters dead.
Somehow I survived, I survived, rapes, beatings, drugs, I didn’t become an alcoholic.
I look back now and I think some people at least me weren’t meant to have a normal life, be accepted, be included and made feel like part of a group. After you go through those things. You won’t fit in. You will never fit in. I was an old soul when I was 6. Raised by older people.
Now soon I will be sixty. My husband passed away this January will be 4 years.
I’m tired of trying to fit in. I am me. I don’t need approval anymore. I know my worth. I know I am a better person than almost everyone I’ve met.
Most people think their better than you. Other people are extremely jealous of you, because of your strength and the fact you made a better life choices e than they did. The rest tried to break you because they thought you could be easily manipulated.
The ones who think they can use, abuse manipulate you are the ones you teach a lesson to. You survive it and them. You realize you are enough! You are all you need. Maybe one day you will find someone who will accept you.
I have thought this, too.
Although your story does stand out. 
Serious suggestion: I think you should write a memoir. There are online courses that lead you through the process. You have experiences and lessons to share with others. I’m 100% serious.
I am so sorry. Four years is a very short time. People told me “you’ll feel better in a year.” Ha! No way. But after a few years, others have moved on and if they think about you at all, they wonder why you haven’t. But now that I’ve been a widow for 21 years (as of last week), I know the truth: you never “get over it” – but you do continue with your life and incorporate the memories, the loss, the pain, and the gratitude into who you are now.
P.S. WRITE THAT BOOK. 
@ThelmaLou I thought about it at one time. Seriously, Thinking about after all these years, I have heard and seen on the news so many horror stories that my experience’(s) pale in comparison. When my dad (the one who raised me). On his death bed he told me he was surprised I had turned out as well as I did. Also I thought I would always hate his first wife and the rejection and being treated less by the parents of the other kids and being ignored in the family during get togethers. The social isolation.
Time really does heal wounds if you let it. You were not at fault. Also I had to forgive them. That was the hardest part. It also took the longest. When they get old and you see them dying of cancer, drug overdoses, stokes and alcoholism. I hate saying this but they suffered. They are human they tried, they did something right I turned pretty good.
My advice to anyone, get counseling and break the ties with abusers, family, significant others or friends. You won’t heal with them in your daily life. Don’t expect them to apologize. More than likely they’ll say that never happened.
Another thing you’ll find everyone in your new life, friends, inlaws they don’t need to know everything. At some point you may want them to know. Be careful in the beginning not everyone is as nice as you believe them to be. It can cause more grief for you. Be careful who you give your trust too. You don’t owe them your trust. They have to earn your trust.
I don’t mean this to be a thread shit, but what is “normal”?
I’ve sort of struggled with that my entire life. I almost fit, but I’ll be the one who likes to read in a group of practically illiterate gearheads. I’ll be the one who knows how to fix things and like manual labor among my more educated friends. I just don’t get so involved or emotionally invested in the things it seems like other people do, and I’ve always felt like the odd one out.
@shh1313 that was hard to read and not reach out to hug. Not because my life compares to yours or anything like that, just because, that was a rough growing up.
There really is no normal. How do you know what really went on in the people you know lives? Say 15 to 25 + years ago. Or behind closed doors? Some people only show you what they want.
Be you, the friends wouldn’t be there if they didn’t like and accept you. As long as you try to make positive contributions to life, friends, family. You will have self confidence, you’ll respect yourself and others will to. Don’t be a door mat though. Be yourself!