fandomsecrets | [ SECRET POST #3999 ]

⌈ Secret Post #3999 ⌋

Warning: Some secrets are NOT worksafe and may contain SPOILERS.

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[Louisa May Alcott, Little Men]

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03. https://i.imgur.com/lIKsZNu.jpg
[too big]

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09. [SPOILERS for Stranger Things]

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10. [SPOILERS for Stranger Things]

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11. [WARNING for discussion of abuse]

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12. [WARNING for discussion of RL death]

Notes:

Secrets Left to Post: 00 pages, 00 secrets from Secret Submission Post #572.
Secrets Not Posted: [ 0 - broken links ], [ 0 - not!secrets ], [ 0 - not!fandom ], [ 0 - too big ], [ 0 - repeat ].
Current Secret Submissions Post: here.
Suggestions, comments, and concerns should go here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I’m still not sure how to classify my upbringing. Like, we lived blocks from the beach in a tourist town growing up, and my parents rented a a 3 unit apartment behind our house who would sublet the other units. But time a prospective tenant flipped out because “omg there’s a homeless guy breaking into the garage!” The renter had to explain that nope, that was the landlord, aka my dad.

He and my mom had a couple of times when they had to bring multiple forms of ID to Costco to prove they weren’t homeless people sneaking in for free samples. My dad’s truck had the doors tied shut with rope and if he took a fast corner, they’d fly open. The only clothes I had new were shoes, socks, and undies—shoes from Payless, or later my mom’s old ones, socks and underwear from Target, before Targetvwas fancy, if I was lucky. We ate popcorn in milk instead of cereal.

But I had health insurance and braces and never went hungry, so I knew I wasn’t like my friends who lived in tiny apartments with no windows who were ashamed when other kids would bully them because they had holes in their underwear. But they could have sugar and white flour and I would hoard my weekly quarters and sneak off to 7-11 for candy and get hit and screamed at by my dad if I was caught. We only had meat on holidays and birthdays or when we had company, or sometimes a little bit in soup.

I didn’t know until my dad, who’d never done drugs harder than weed in his twenties, got stung by a stingray and then got shingles within a month or so, became addicted to pain killers and then street drugs, that my parents were millionaires. When I was a toddler we lived in a tiny camper and I got bathed in a bucket. I lived in a party dress I got in fifth grade for weeks because it was new and I never got new clothes. All my bedroom furniture came from the alley. My dad spent over a million dollars on drugs before my mom finally divorced him.

The fake poverty of my childhood was good training for my teens and adulthood now that I have to scrape by on not much. I just wish I’d been able to have a rich kid’s childhood and not a weird hybrid where no-one I talk to about my childhood understands. I’m not ungrateful or suicidal enough to have wished for a childhood spent in real poverty.

People who grew up poor think I’m one of them until I mention going on a school trip to London in middle school, or having one of the first color Apple computers as a kid. People who grew up middle class don’t understand how I could think of instant cup of soup, or grape soda, or chocolate, any chocolate, as unattainable luxuries.

I don’t rub shoulders with many rich people these days, but in my high school, where most kids got new sports cars at 16, I had basically three changes of clothes, all from thrift shops. I couldn’t have told you what clothes were “in” if you held a gun to my head. Even now, I tend to buy one comfy pair of shoes and wear them until they fall off.

My childhood didn’t fit neatly into a box and now that I’m an adult, I feel like nobody except maybe someone who grew up in a fringe cult would understand what it’s like to look back on, or to reminisce aloud about, and have everybody, from the person who spent their tenth birthday homeless to the one who didn’t have to worry what Ivy League school they’d attend because their dad had an auditorium named after him from all the money they’d donated, look at me like I grew up on Pluto.

Food is a really strange thing to save money on. Good food is important for health.

(Not the anon you replied to) People who've never been poor think food is the most important thing. But it's not. Housing, hygiene products and clothes (because of bullying), school supplies, and even home internet - I'd put all of those things over food.

ayrt
Balanced nutrition gives us energy. You have to have some meat or learn about vegetarian diet and buy some supplements - could be more expensive and time consuming than buying meat... You start to feel tired and cold all the time after a month on bread and spaghetti. Clothes can be brought second hand, as no one'd notice, hygiene products are cheap, school supplies also were very cheap where I lived. Granted, housing's very important and by far is the biggest monthly expense.

AYRT—my parents spent money on food. Just not on sugar, flour, or anything processed. I still remember sitting down to lunch with some friends and having spaghetti and meatballs because my dad wasn’t home and my mom would sneak white noodles if my dad wasn’t around. He came home unexpectedly and ripped the bowl out of my hands and threw it away, then screamed at my mom, and then at me. Those girls stopped coming over after that.

ayrt
This's a bit sad, and I hope you're at a better place now!

[ SECRET POST #3999 ]

Re: People just don't understand

Re: People just don't understand

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Re: People just don't understand

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