jeremias wrote:

Why do you want to know?

I have a three and a half year old, and as he's growing older I'm becoming aware of how intense his experiences are, and it's made me curious what sort of things "stick" with people over the course of their life. It's also made me think more about what sort of control (if any), I have as a parent.

mabelcolby wrote:

Age 14 - I watched my mom give birth to my little sister. I decided that I was never doing that, and I've been happily childfree ever since. Getting fixed this year, whoo!

grumblebee wrote:

I was in nursery school (about 1969), and I was passionately interested in astronomy. My dad had read me lots of books about the cosmos, and I was as educated about such matters as a four-year-old could be.

One day, I was arguing with friends about the moon. I said the moon was like a small planet. They disagreed. Finally, I called a teacher over to help settle the matter. I KNEW I was right, so I was looking forward to the teacher vindicating me. We asked her if the moon was a planet.

She said, "no, the moon is a star."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. My pride was hurt because I lost the argument, but that wasn't the main reason I was stunned. I still knew I was right, which meant the TEACHER was wrong. Not only was she wrong, she was ignorant about something I assumed was common knowledge.

Before that, I hadn't known grown-ups could be wrong. This profoundly shaped the way I viewed people as I grew up. Whenever I heard anyone deifying another person, I thought -- and still think -- "that's silly." From that point on, I had no respect for authority. To earn my respect, you have to be smart or talented. I'll never respect you just because you happen to be in charge or have a degree.

johnj wrote:

1. When I was a little kid, I ran after a kite a little boy lost hold of while flying it on a windy beach. I had a "peek experience" at that moment. I have continued to behave as though the "peek experience" - being fully human and reaching my potential - is of primary importance.

2. A year of so later, during 6th grade, I was punched by a bully. I did not fight back because violence is wrong. I told my dad about it, proud that I took the high road, proud that I had a mature revelation about violence and the importance of alternative resolution methods. He thought I was being childishstupid and he berated me for it.

From that day on, I have known that when it comes to paternal guidance and fatherly support, I am completely on my own. I was only 10 but I remember that day because it was the day I "lost" my father.

ruddhist wrote:

12 years old, just beginning to take those "career aptitude inventory" tests they give you, I share with my father my interest in one day becoming a computer engineer. His response, "How the hell are you ever gonna help anybody doing that!?" leads me to completely devalue my own interests and goals for the next four years or so in favor of what I think other people think I should be doing. Later I get my head on straight and realize he was being a complete jerk, but the damage is still done. I still base my feelings of self-worth on the opinions of others (even though I know that's what I'm doing).

Please, encourage your child to pursue his or her own interests, not those you think he or she should have. Within reason, of course.

ifjuly wrote:

like grumblebee. discovering adults could be and were wrong sometimes--and on various levels; wrong factually as well as capable of behaving improperly/having prejudices/being deceitful--was like being punched in the stomach. i'm not certain i've gotten over it even to this day.

Justin Case wrote:

One time when I was 7 or 8 my dad was supposed to pick me up after school. I waited until dark and he never showed up. I knew that he and my mother had forgotten about me. I started walking home when it got dark. While waiting for somebody to come get me I decided that I was alone in the world and couldn't even trust my parents. I've been basically distrustful of people and an introverted loner ever since.

scratch wrote:

Parents' divorce and alcoholism. I learned these lessons early: I trust few people, never think about the future (in a fatalistic sense, not a live-for-today sense), and err on the side of caution every time. Life is a long series of hazards to be avoided and inescapable heartbreak.

splice wrote:

In first year of high school, I finally managed to ask my crush out on a date. We were both geeky, but I was the more socially inept and outcast one. By lunch, everyone knew about our date. They made fun of her, laughed at me. She blamed it on me, saying I told everyone, but I hadn't told a soul. The date didn't happen. I found out her best friend is the one who spread it around. They stayed friends, I was outcast even more. To this day (years out of college), I haven't had even one relationship, although not for lack of trying.

Looking back, I haven't had many happy experiences. But hey, that must mean that they're all ahead of me, waiting, right? Right? ...

lola wrote:

When I was 3 yrs old, my parents checked me into the hospital for surgery without telling me why, When I woke up, I had colostomy.

My parents referred to it as "my operation" and although they didn't tell me to keep it a secret, even at that young age,I knew it was a private family matter. As a result, I becamse insecure and withdrawn because I wasn't like "normal" people. The operation was reversed when I was 11 yrs. old.

Secret Life of Gravy wrote:

I was raped by my babysitter at 4. It went on for some time. He told me that he would kill me and my parents if I ever told, so I never did. As a result, I think I became very good at acting, specifically hiding my real feelings. Later on as a teenager, I was bitter and angry about "not being a virgin" and was quite promiscuous all through school.

Finally in my twenties, I let the anger go. I had a good love life and a great sexual life. At that point I realized that I should take some credit for how I had managed my own mental health. It shocks me to this day how much I was "handling" as a four year old.

Quartermass wrote:

I was sexually abused by some older male relatives when I was a little kid (from about 4 to about 8). I was 8, and I was watching the news about the AIDS epidemic, and I heard someone talk about it being a "gay" disease. Not knowing what gay really meant, I found out, and to my horror thought that I was gay and that I might have AIDS too! I remember the constant feeling of dread of holding this inside, and coming to terms with my impending death.

It finally came to a head when I got caught caught cheating on a spelling quiz, and I confessed to everything, including the abuse, that I was "gay," the fact that I was going to die of AIDS anyway, so it didn't really matter if I cheated or not. Needless to say it got lots of people involved, and I was put through lots of counseling.

Turns out that I was not gay and I didn't have AIDS, but it fucked me up for a long time.

Jairus wrote:

I remember being kidnapped by my organized-crime-boss-father when I was eight or so, who kept me until he was arrested for murder, a year or so later.

I also remember telling my grade seven guidance counsellor about the kid who beat me up at lunch (I got beat up every lunch, but this was worse than usual, and I was worried he'd actually kill me sometime soon), and my counsellor telling me that we were going to open the door of every classroom in the school, and when we hit the classroom with the kid in it, I'd point him out.

I got scared and backed out, I was terrified of what he'd do when he found out I fingered him. The counsellor grabbed me by my jacket and slammed me into a locker, yelling: "You can spend your whole fucking life letting little fucks beat you up, Jairus, or you can stand up for yourself. Your call."

He walked back to his office, and I spent the greater part of the period leaning against the locker, before I went back to his office and started checking classrooms.

...

There's a lot more (note: lasers, a ferret, etc - ed.), but I don't want to clog up the page.

SPrintF wrote:

From the age of 2 to 5-1/2, my parents kept me locked alone in a cage. To this day, decades later, I find it impossible to form meaningful social relationships. Frankly, I'm surprised I'm not a serial killer.

furious blush wrote:

You might also want to check out previous AskMe threads about singular happiest moments and life-changing epiphanies. :)