#generation trauma

i've been thinking a lot about how different genX was raised as compared to the generations after. this came up in a discussion on r/buffy where someone mentioned that they thought joyce was a terrible parent. my comment was that she didn't beat buffy or tell her constantly that she ruins everything, so already miles ahead of mine. and, there were so many other genX voices that echoed similar sentiments. we were the latch-key generation, the feral generation. we were raised to be independent before we were even out of grade school.

on r/genx, the topic of parents forgetting to pick you up from school came up. so many stories about this. here's some samples:

My parents decided to move 3 days ahead of schedule while I was at school and my after-school job and forgot to tell me. I got home from work at 10 p.m. to a dark house with nothing in it.....so forgetting to pick me up after school would be par for the course with them In 1984, I had a friend in highschool, her mom did the same thing, moved, and didn't bring her along. She was 16, got on assistance, found a shitty basement apartment to live, and kept going to school. My parents decided to buy a new house 30 minutes away. They just left my 14 year brother in the original family home by himself. Left him a credit card for food, they paid all the bills, and my mom would come by and stay in her old room once in a while. When he was 16, they bought him a car. They basically gave up being parents when they moved. More than a few times my parents forgot to pick me up after wrestling practice. It was only a 2 mile walk home, but on roads with no sidewalks or street lights (and I was normally pretty exhausted after practice). The worst part was repeatedly trying to call home from the payphone and getting only busy signals. Yes. Forgotten after Girl Scouts. Missed bus transfer first day of 7th grade, called my mom and she was like: tough shit. Both times walked 4 miles home. The best was when my siblings and I flew to my dad’s and he wasn’t at the airport to greet us. He was at the bar, naturally, and had lost track of time.

in so many ways, we were told we weren't wanted, were frequently only accessories trotted out, then shoved back into a corner. so many of my friends are childless because their childhoods were fucking nightmares.

but despite all of that, we still had demands to succeed, to excel. because if we didn't excel, the punishment would be even worse. what we felt, how we were all drowning, well, if you want to cry, i'll give you something to cry about. and the belt/switch/wiffle bat/metal spoon came out.

and, as anyone that's suffered this sort of abuse, while the physical abuse was awful, the above stories were far worse than any beating. at least when they were beating you, in a sick, perverted way, they were at least acknowledging that you mattered.

If I leave work early, I beat myself up.

If I get sick, I beat myself up.

If I make a mistake, I beat myself up.

If anyone ever sees anything in me that isn't one hundred percent, I beat myself up.

I write for the ones who were told to be quiet.

For the ones who felt everything and didn’t know why.

For the ones who learned how to survive before they learned how to speak.

This space is for healing—mine, and maybe yours too.