My parents grew up in a poor area partly during the depression. Thus they didnt have much.
Growing up it seems like everytime I asked for anything they would always lay this guilt trip on us kids “WE didnt have that when we were growing up”. And “You have it so lucky, we had to ride a horse to school and use an outhouse and we didnt have much food or toys or …”.
It frustrated the hell out of me. I guess since they were poor, well then darn it, we should be damn happy for what we have. They still on occasion try it but I tell them off now that I dont want to hear it and I REFUSE to feel guilty.
My Jewish mother is one long personal guilt trip right up to when I spoke to her yesterday. To hear her tell it, she basically grew up as Cinderella – she literally had to scrub the floors while her sister got to lie in bed. But of course she’s willing to make any sacrifice for her children.
Oh, yeah, especially when it came to new clothes. She couldn’t have them because of us, and it was just too bad that we kept outgrowing them or wanting new ones with changing styles. :rolleyes:
You do have to remember that this was a woman who would tell us that she didn’t want any Christmas or birthday presents, and sit there and sob because she didn’t get any, and if we gave her anything, she would say some variation of “I don’t want this junk!” and usually destroy it, and make anything from our dad’s side of them family (BTW, they are still married :dubious: ) disappear on the first day back at school.
Spanish mother with Italian ancestry… The woman’s “good mornings” are so thick you can pass the pages and so drippy with guilt we should put a pail underneath.
I was guilty of being a girl and went down from there. Ed was guilty of not being blond, and it went down from there. We were guilty of not being the children she’d designed in her mind. Jay got lucky: he’s both male and blond, but he’s paid for it by having to fight to be treated as himself and not as her mental image of someone he really isn’t. Add a perfectionist father (one of those guys who think that a perfect grade is “good enough for once”) and it was not a friendly house to grow up in.
Everything I had was a luxury, according to my mother, because she didn’t have them as a child, mainly because they weren’t invented. I was lucky to have TV at all, and had no right to complain the we didn’t have a color TV (which gives you cancer) or cable (the aerial is free). I had no right to complain about going to the dentist when I got beautiful porcelain fillings, instead of amalgam; I had no right to complain about shots (this to a three-year-old), because she had to suffer through mumps and measles, and my father’s sister died from not having vaccines. I was lucky we could buy gefilte fish from a store-- my mother had to suffer through the horrible smell of having it cook all day in the house. I was lucky to go to a Jewish Day school-- my mother’s parents couldn’t afford to send her, and then she had to recite Christian prayers in school; then I was lucky to go to public school after the Supreme Court removed prayer from the schools.
I had hand-me-downs from my cousins, but my mother still bought me tons of clothes off the rack, and I always had my own underwear. My mother had nothing but hand-me-downs, including underwear, and he clothes were all homemade. I couldn’t have cared less about clothes, and HATED being dragged on a clothing trip.
I had my own room-- my mother had to share with her sister.
I couldn’t have or do a single thing in my childhood without hearing how it was so much more than what she had as a child. Sometimes I wished she’d just keep it and shut up.
My aunt had a much more deprived childhood than my mother, and gave much more generously to her children, or which I was sort of one. We never heard word one about the cable, the color TV, the VCR we got in like 1980. My uncle Jonas got me an Atari 2600 for my bat mitzvah, and my mother had a fight with him over it in the middle of the shul, because she didn’t want me to have it.
It’s nice to see someone who isn’t a victim. Every time this type of subject comes up, I’m amazed at the people who act like they were victims of bad/crazy parents.
My late wife was always amazed that I never had any bad memories of my childhood.
My parents divorced when I was four years old. My mom, when she was frustrated would be known to say “Oh, God! If I had my whole life to live over again, I’d NEVER have kids.” She even called us “Sons of bitches” once; until my brother made the mistake of saying “That’s right mom, we sure are!” To be honest, we knew we were all loved. We knew she gave up (and would continue to give up) everything for her kids. We were the poor kids in town. I had a great childhood.
So, OP to answer your question, I’d say no she didn’t but she could have. She was raised to not be a victim (and isn’t that throwing a guilt trip is all about… making yourself a victim?), and she raised us to not be victims either.
Sometimes I wonder if my kids may misinterpret my teasing and nostalgic waxing for guilt trips.
“Oh, my god. You have no idea how lucky you are. Before cell phones, meeting up with your friends at the amusement park was insane and frustrating! And if you were late or your plans changed, there was NO WAY to let anyone know! They just all assumed you were dead until someone finally got hold of you three days later. And pay phones? HA! Let me tell you about pay phones…”
I’m not trying to lay on a guilt trip. Sincerely. I really DO think things are so much easier now. I really AM amazed and amused at the huge changes technology hath wrought in my short lifetime. But I can imagine how that might sound guilt trippy to a kid.
My parents also grew up in the depression, and both had a pretty bad time of it for a while (my father worse than my mother). I wouldn’t say I got guilt trips, but I got plenty of reminders about how life could be a lot tougher than I had it. I think they did their best to prepare me for what real life is like (with two notable exceptions - they never talked to me about how to be wise about money, and they never talked to me about sex). I had everything I really needed, and a few things that I wanted but didn’t need. I learned to not waste anything, especially food. I learned to be generous to those who had less than I did. I learned to take care of myself, including cooking, washing and ironing clothes, yard work, and handyman skills.
My parents had flaws and those flaws showed up in their parenting. But they did their best, and I have no complaints. It did take me two years of therapy to get to this point, but it was worth it.
I don’t think it is so much guilt-tripping, as it is parents wanting their kids to have the best of both worlds: Enjoying lots of good things, but with the perspective and appreciation of a deprived person, not taking those good things for granted. So Depression-era parents want their kids to know just how fabulous it is to have cereal, eggs, bacon, toast, fruit, pancakes, oatmeal and yogurt for breakfast.
And in some cases, it’s jealousy and/or a form of exerting control. “You owe everything you have to me!” is both untrue (what, Dad wasn’t there?) and a way to make the child feel like he’s got the obligation to pay back with interest (no we don’t). I know quite a few mothers who, like mine, have a direct and clear correlation between “child least matching imaginary child” and “amount of guilt tripping”. The tactic doesn’t work any more, but that doesn’t mean she’s stopped using it.
My parents were married at the height of the depression, and were quite proud of the fact that they had bettered their lifestyle to the point at which their children would not need to endure a repetition of their hardships. So there was none of that sort of “when I was a boy” guilt tripping.
There is a reason why I left home at the age of 21 (that is way soon for Spanish standards), ended up studying in Japan and have spent the last 17 years living in the Netherlands. 1800 km from my mother is … distance enough.
There is a reason why one of my sisters is now living in the Canary Islands, another 1800 km from my birth city in the opposite direction.
There is a reason why my other sister, who still lives literally next door to my mother, has spent quite some time putting her foot down and laying down clear rules as to what my mother is allowed to do in my sister’s home, and also why my mother does not have a copy of my sister’s home keys.
My mother is… difficult. We love her, but we understand that we either have to be able to put very strict limits when it comes to her behavior in respect to us, or we better live as far away as possible from her, with 2 weeks per year of direct interaction.
To be honest, we knew we were all loved. We knew she gave up (and would continue to give up) everything for her kids. We were the poor kids in town. I had a great childhood.