A very sad childhood story, told by my own personal experiences.

I have lost family also cop, my sister when I was 3 and my nephew just a few years ago. I was the 1 that found my nephew, I tried CPR but he was already gone. These things can be hard to live with, you never forget. But that can be a good thing. These family members are gone but never forgotten. Big hugs cop, be strong for your family, make them proud of the way you live your life.

No I haven't, still have dreams about his small cold body in my hands. I don't think I ever will, but it help me remember him and think about the short happy time we had together. Some scars are worth the pain.
Your family wouldn't want you to feel guilty about things that happened when you were young. They love you and would want you to be happy, so if you get down thinking about those sad times, try to remember the fun happy times.

RenegadeCop wrote:I just dwelled upon something this very day. It made me cry quietly for 10 minutes straight. This is my fairly sad childhood story which, upon thinking about it for 30 minutes, is actually quite depressing to me.

I am born into a family of parents aged around 23 each. I live in a house where other adults are always around, hyper with booze and cannabis in them, until around 3 years old. This is when my parents decided to be sensible people. But, this tale gets much worse..

When I was 2 my grandma died. From blood bursting in her brain, causing a coma, and then death. I was so sad, I cried for days. My mum and dad tried to calm me down, yet, at this point, I knew all the details. I heard it being discussed in the kitchen. I told them I knew what happened. My mum started crying, said she was sorry for lying to me, and hugged me. All over, right? Well, you were wrong.

A year later, one of my great grandma's died of heart failure. I was at her bed to witness her death. Once again, I cried for a very long time. My great grandma was an angel to me, always reading books with me, and playing games with me. She was so friendly too. I'm sure some think this is a sob story, but it was so hard to just deal with. At 3 years old, 2 relatives have died, and I was just about to start school.

It didn't go down well. I cried all the time when the subject of relatives came up. I had to be sent home countless times by the teachers. This was just in my first year. Thankfully, for another 3 years, no more relatives had died on me yet.

But, when I was 7, my other great grandma died. She was just as nice as my other grandma was, and she had a lovely house. It was massive, with long, stretching corridors me and my brothers would chase each other in. She always gave us money before we went, and upon speaking about this, I realised something. I made her unhappy. I always insisted I had to go home, since I was bored. It came across as me being an ingrateful litle s**t. It turns out, at the time, I was diagnosed with Asperger's. My grandma didn't know this. Upon her death, I felt so guilty, so bad about myself, I went into an early childhood depression. The effect this had on me was just getting worse. I was like this for nearly 2 months. But, for another 3 years, no more relatives had died, once again. But, there's always a sickening twist in my life.

When I was 10, my nanna died of lung cancer. She used to smoke heavily, and all it did was drive her to her grave earlier. I never visited her as much as my other grandma's, but she was still nice. She always gave me a great easter egg every year, and chocolate on every holiday, She was such a nice person. And I felt terrible for never giving her anything back, or visiting her enough. This triggered another depression, which lasted for 1 month this time.

But the bad things didn't end there. Between the ages of 12 and 17, my family was extremely poor. We had lost a load of money due to someone accidentally withdrawing from our bank account. My parents were at work nearly all day, and I had to start walking home, and home was 3 miles away from school. I felt so worn down from having to do jobs all the time for my parent's occupations, I just said, when I was 15, "Screw this! I'm dropping out of school!" My parents didn't agree with me, but I just got my GCSE results, and felt it was OK to leave early. I just did anyway.

After all that, my family got back on track after winning a court case in 2001. We had money again. By this time, I was 18, but things got worse.

When I was 19, my dad died, of a stroke. He used to drink alcohol, but he was a very good father. He, nearly literally, drunk himself to death during a very bad day. I attended the funeral, and cried for hours on end. My mother was in a bad way herself. Her health had degraded due to the drinking she did, and it was only a matter of time before she was dead too.

One year later, actually. My mother died of a alcohol overdose, which was vodka. In her will, she left all of her money and belongings to me, since my brothers had long left the house. I had money, but I had depression once again.

I took custody of her house, and that is where I live now. For the last 9 years, I've lived here. I've had a girlfriend since I was 14. The very same one. I told her all about this 6 years ago. She started crying. I felt as if I did something wrong, but I also felt much better for getting it off my chest.

And so, that is my childhood story. With lots of parts from my later childhood left out, due to my depressive ways in those times, I found it wouldn't be very interesting to mention. The earlier parts of the story may have been sadder, but it was sad to write it.

Some may think of this as a sob story, and to get over it, and get on with life. But I'm sure some of you have had similar experiences. And whenever I dwell on this, I feel upset.

Now, please excuse me. I'm going to go and cry for a few more minutes. Seriously. I feel terrible after writing this.

You shouldn't feel bad. You should always feel somewhat better after sharing something like that.
I read all of that. And I can say, your childhood was pretty darn depressing.
I had a depressing childhood too. But not in the same way. I didn't have anyone die while I was growing up, except for my great grandma, which I hardly knew at the time.
I'm not trying force my beliefs on anyone, I'm just stating them as my own, that's all. My life shifted towards the better, the more I finished 12th grade in high school. And when my dad's father died. I remember going to his funeral, regreting not getting to know him better. But at the same time, I felt forgiven; because I had admitted my wrong and also given thanks for what he did do for me; even if I didn't deserve it. And had already been giving thanks to the Lord, praying for a better life, and trying to clean up my act, as well as asking for forgiveness from Christ. And after the funeral was over, I felt diffirent. I felt cleansed, refreshed, renewed. I had been forgiven. I had made the change. It was a feeling like no other that I've felt in my entire life. I was happy.
There's a alot more to it than that. But some of it is too personal.
I will say, as I've said before; I too have Aspengers Syndrome. Ufortunately for me, I wasn't diagnosed with it until I graduated from high school. But I'm happy with were I am now. And I've learned alot, even though it took quite a while to learn.
I share some of them feels with you Cop. Even if our stories are completely diffirent.

I cant tell you about my life too much mental instability