Bad Childhood Quotes

“Carla's description was typical of survivors of chronic childhood abuse. Almost always, they deny or minimize the abusive memories. They have to: it's too painful to believe that their parents would do such a thing. So they fragment the memories into hundreds of shards, leaving only acceptable traces in their conscious minds. Rationalizations like "my childhood was rough," "he only did it to me once or twice," and "it wasn't so bad" are common, masking the fact that the abuse was devastating and chronic. But while the knowledge, body sensations, and feelings are shattered, they are not forgotten. They intrude in unexpected ways: through panic attacks and insomnia, through dreams and artwork, through seemingly inexplicable compulsions, and through the shadowy dread of the abusive parent. They live just outside of consciousness like noisy neighbors who bang on the pipes and occasionally show up at the door.”
― David L. Calof, The Couple Who Became Each Other: Stories of Healing and Transformation from a Leading Hypnotherapist

“...even a poisoned, desolate childhood can be missed.”
― Julianna Baggott, Fuse

“As we examine the youth of today, we must realize that the negative behavior we see on the outside, is a result of a deeper need on the inside.”
― Eric M. Watterson

“Emilio was certainly within his rights not to reveal the sordid details of his childhood even to his friends. Or perhaps especially to his friends, whose good opinion of him, he might feel, would not survive the revelations.”
― Mary Doria Russell, The Sparrow

“Because she's my mum Ryan. She wasn't a very good one, she was a horrible one in fact. But she is all I have left and I don't want to end up like her. I want to be a good person; I want to continue to care about others even when they don't deserve it.”
― Sarah Clay, Never Enough

“My childhood ended around the time of my ninth birthday, shamed into sex, obedience and fear.”
― Billy Childish, My Fault

“Don’t even talk to me about being a mother. You were never a mother! Just the psychotic twat I lived with for the first fourteen years.”
― Brandon Shire, The Value of Rain

“It's not my story to tell, but Jason told me about how you call her ‘little bird' and you're right she can be flight or fight”
― Sarah Clay, Never Enough

“I was born to an unwed female in a settlement that makes Windhaven look like a tolerant, welcoming paradise. She was shunned for bearing a child out of wedlock, and forced to give birth to me alone in a tent in the dead of winter.'

Horror lurched through her. She'd known Cassian was low-born, but that level of cruelty because of it... 'What of your father?'

'You mean the piece of shit who forced himself on her and then went back to his wife and family?' Cassian let out a cold laugh that she rarely heard. 'There were no consequences for him.'

'There never are,' Nesta said coolly. She blocked out the image of Tomas's face.

'There are here,' Cassian growled, as if he sensed the direction of her thoughts. Cassian gestured to the city below, hidden by the mountain and the House blocking the view. 'Rhys changed the laws here in the Night Court, and in Illyria.' His face hardened further. 'But it still requires the survivor to come forward. And in places like Illyria, they make life a living hell for any female who does. They seem it a betrayal.'

'That's outrageous.'

'We're all Fae. Forget the High Fae or Lesser Fae bullshit. We're all immortal or close to it. Change comes slowly for us. What humans accomplish in decades takes us centuries. Longer, if you live in Illyria.'

'Then why do you bother with the Illyrians?'

'Because I fought like hell to prove my worth to them.' His eyes glittered. 'To prove that my mother brought some good into this world.'

'Where is she now?' He'd never spoken of her.

His eyes shuttered in a way she had not witnessed before. 'I was taken away from her when I was three. Thrown out into the snow. And in her so-called disgraced state, she became prey to other monsters.' Nesta's stomach twisted with each word. 'She did their backbreaking labour until she died, alone and...' His throat worked. 'I was at Windhaven by then. I wasn't strong enough to return to help her. To bring her somewhere safe. Rhys wasn't yet High Lord, and none of us could do anything.'
...
'It's a story for another time. But what I meant to try to explain is that through it all, through every awful thing, the training centred me. Guided me. When I had a shit day, when I was spat on or pummelled or shunned, when I led armies and lost good warriors, when Rhys was taken by Amarantha- through all of that, the training remained. You said the other day the breathing helped you. It helps me, too. It helped Feyre.' She watched the wall rise in his eyes, word after word. As if he waited for her to rip it down. Rip him down. 'Make of that what you will, but it's true.'

Oily shame slithered through her. She'd done that- brought this level of defensiveness in him.

Heaviness weighed on her. Started gnawing on her insides.

So Nesta said, 'Show me another set of movements.'

Cassian scanned her face for a heartbeat, his gaze still shuttered, and began his next demonstration.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames