Childhood, in my opinion, is the most horrific experience a person may have in their lives. Consider this scenario: you're a little child who hasn't learned much about the world and how cruel it can be, and then something turns you over and changes who you are and how you interact with certain aspects of life. Worst of all, you were never even given a heads-up.

What a lot of parents don't realize is that not all practices that their parents did must be passed on to another generation. A lot of parents don't deserve to be parents. Some should've gone to therapy and taken a couple parenting classes especially the ones who are homophobic or transphobic. It's not fair to your kids for you to treat them like an infection or for you to raise them to be bigots who eventually commit hate-crimes.

It was not an easy upbringing for me. I was classified and called a "faggot" before I could properly comprehend the concept of homosexuality and the LGBTQ community as a whole. "I mean, I have a high pitched voice and act feminine, but that doesn't mean I'm gay." Despite the fact that I liked guys, I told myself that for a long time knowing that I didn't fully understand myself. I suppose I deceived myself just because I didn't want to be criticized and sunk my urges.

It was a nightmare in school. When I went in, I used to experience panic attacks because I was taunted so badly. Nobody actually spoke to me, and if I tried to talk to someone, they became irritated. Another reason I stopped socializing is because of this. That would seem to be the worst case scenario. Unfortunately, the answer is no.

It was extremely bad at home, especially around relatives. Growing up subconsciously knowing I was some part of the LGBTQ, it was terrible to hear my mother say horrible things about the LGBTQ community and characterize it as her "opinion." My uncles, in particular, were the worst members of my family.

They would always advise me to "stop acting like a lady" or "act like a guy," and I allowed them to make me feel insecure for a long time. I wept myself to sleep for a long time. What was much worse were my relatives, who were continuously berating me for my behavior. Kendrick was the worst of them all, as he would humiliate me in front of others by telling me to change how I acted. Every time he saw me, he would do this, and I would sit there awkwardly, especially because my mother would not defend me. My sister did the opposite, which I appreciated. But whenever I knew Kendrick was going to be at our house or at a family gathering, I would stay away from him for as long as I could.

Strangely, I didn't think much about my father when I was younger. The only time I wished I had a father was when I saw people from my school being picked up by their fathers and being greeted with hugs. I used to crave nothing more than a hug, but now I despise them.

Another thing that made me loathe myself was seeing my sister lauded for being feminine and attractive while I was chastised for it. I was envious of my sister for a long time, but not in a nasty manner. I wanted to dress up like her and garner male attention like she did, but I was unable to do it. She drew the attention of all the lads, and everyone remarked on her attractiveness, and I wished I might have that kind of attention one day. She would snap at anyone who tried to get at me which I loved and I would get irritated if a guy tried to flirt with her but for the wrong reason. It was because I wanted that attention, to this day I still crave male attention.

Finally, making fun of my body by others, particularly my family, made me feel even more uneasy. I'm really skinny, and being compared to starving children or someone who is anorexic made me feel bad about myself. Another item that was made fun of was my hyperpigmentation black blotches on my skin that looked like poka dots. I never glanced at my physique for a long time longing for it to change.

As a child, Beth despised her body for another reason. She went through puberty sooner than other children, resulting in a body that was far more mature than her peers. She was taught to hide her body at all costs and was sexually harassed when she was a child. She noticed how her mother's male acquaintances and classmates at school began to treat her in a more sexual manner and girls at school would slut shame her even though she barely knew what sex was.

Her mother also taught her to clean up after guys and submit to them from an early age. While her brothers acted like wild animals, she was taught to cook, clean, thrive in school, and be modest.

They both lived in squalor, and she was usually the one to clean up after them. If there was a fight between them and her, her mother would usually take their side and chastise her. She hated doing everything while the men got to sit and relax. Her physique was something she hated. She hated herself for being so sweet and easily led.

If she ever tried to wear something that showed even a leg hair she would get scolded or if she wore a hairstyle apart from one that seemed childlike she would get accused of trying to be a grown woman. No makeup or anything shot. And nothing in the color red. In a blink of an eye because of her genes her childhood was slipped from her bottom. You could also notice something else about her.

Whenever she was around men that she liked whether it being platonic or not she would change. Take me for an example, when I'm around her and her brothers she would join in on the jokes they make of me and laugh with them. It's like one minute she's my best friend and the next she's not.

This is how she's always been. We met when my uncle, Kendrick, started dating her mother a few years ago. Despite the objections of one of her brothers, Kendrick moved in with them. When he moved there, he occasionally brought some of his other billions of offspring with him. That's how we met Mandy; despite the fact that she wasn't his child, she went along with her brother and sister because her mother didn't want the responsibility of a child for a couple months.

You'd think that having Kendrick there would be beneficial, but it wasn't. All he did was add to the anguish. For a long time, their relationship appeared to be going well until he returned to his old cheating methods. When her mother found out, they began a series of arguments at home, which occasionally escalated into fights. In front of Beth and the others, he would attack her in her own home. Beth's brothers attempted but failed to stop him on several occasions. He would also hit them on occasion. He once gave Beth's mother a black eye before viciously beating her on the floor, and when her brothers raced to her aid, he whacked them all with a broomstick in quick succession.

Because Beth's mother routinely invited us to her house, I saw those gruesome scenes most of the time. But it was this that broke my spirit the most. On a Saturday afternoon, all of us youngsters were watching a movie on the television. Suddenly, Beth's mother burst through the door, arguing with Kendrick. We hurriedly averted our gaze from the television, anticipating something horrible to occur. We heard the door lock as they entered the room. Each of us dashed to the door and pressed our ears against it. We could hear her cry for him to leave her alone, and then we heard him hitting her and calling her names. We tried everything we could to open the door, but it was impossible.

    And during all of this I felt horrible. Kendrick was MY uncle. Doing this to a woman and her children and getting away with it. I always felt guilty. Like I had to pay her brothers and Beth back in some way.

Mandy was Beth's therapist between all of this. Yes it was heartbreaking for her to see but she was sort of use to it.

Her father left her mother once she was old enough to speak so she didn't see much of him. Things didn't get much better because her mother was left to care for three children on her own. Kendrick wasn't helping matters either. He was enjoying the time of his life, having children, moving around houses, and driving automobiles that his girlfriends had purchased for him.

Her mother had been depressed for a long time and didn't know what to do. Her elder sister, the eldest of the three, Janet, was in charge of them and looked after them for the most part. She cooked, cleaned, and assisted them with their academics while maintaining her own healthy school schedule.

But what she learned from her sister the most was navigating life and to not let people walk all over her. She mimicked her sisters stern attitude and reckless mouth. Leaving a cold outer core with a loving inner core.

What hardened her up even more was her mother, who, after she was out of her depression, began dating like crazy. Mandy despised the fact that she had a new boyfriend every week. Mandy resented the way that most of her partners had no manners or background.

    Mandy felt compelled to stay in her room at all costs, using books and academics as a form of escape. She witnessed how guys were in real life and resolved to locate one who was different from the rest. She wants a romantic, witty, hardworking, classy, and gorgeous man. But she mostly desired a partner who did not condemn others, particularly women, for their bodies, sexualities, or general lives. And that would be impossible to find in this world so she found it in book characters.

When her sister became pregnant, she saw how depressed she became at having to abandon her studies in order to raise a child. She soon left and made few trips back home. At least she still had her brother, but eventually he got friends and forgot her memory.

Mandy was the primary caregiver for her niece throughout the first year and a few months after her birth. Her sister was always out with her boyfriend or attempting to get away from the load. And if she tried to speak out about it, she'd be labeled ungrateful. And it's not like she couldn't do it, that was her niece.

Dustin went through something similar because he was the primary caregiver for his younger sister. Though the duty only fell on him because his mother was often at work, he felt like he shouldn't be doing his parents' job. And his little sister's accurate eye when she flung objects while she was throwing tantrums didn't help.

When it came to bullying, Dustin and I shared a similar childhood—just with a lot more sports. Living in a house with his entire family was a component of Dustin's youth that he particularly enjoyed. He and his cousins frequently got into trouble for stealing from Mrs. August's mango tree as they chased each other around the neighborhood's various patches of nature. The best part of being with them was the anticipation of coming in as the sun was setting and stuffing his face with the pastries his grandmother had baked. He learned how to cook and be good at arts through her.

    Cooking was the way he used to express his emotions without even knowing it. He kneaded dough aggressively when agitated, blended items when he wanted to block out the world and usually did large batches of meals when feeling anxiety or stress. And it didn't matter what he was feeling the food would always turn out scrumptious.

The only person's childhood that was like a mystery to me was Carson's. He never spoke about it much. But he was about to in his recovery meeting...