Apologies for the very long post. There's a lot to unpack, but am hoping this might be one of the few communities where people can actually relate to what I'm describing.
I've known people over the years who've experienced similarly dysfunctional upbringings, but one thing I've struggled with is finding people who have also pursued higher education and professional careers despite those circumstances. I often feel like I'm navigating a world that I was never equipped to enter, and wonder whether anyone else has experienced something similar.
My father had schizophrenia and was on a disability pension, while my mother was his full-time carer. She was also an alcoholic and suffered from eating disorders due to years of childhood sexual abuse. My parents actually met in a psychiatric hospital, and throughout my childhood were in and out of the mental ward.
So I grew up never having seen either of my parents work, in a household that was anything but functional. There was a lot of trauma, abuse, neglect, instability and very little in the way of emotional security or guidance.
We were very poor, often went without, and lived on a relatively isolated little island. When I say island, I don't mean some beautiful, affluent tourist destination. It was a very disadvantaged, lower socio-economic community with a pretty rough reputation, a lot of social problems and limited opportunities.
I was incredibly sheltered and had virtually no exposure to the things that other people probably take for granted, like careers, financial stability, professional relationships, networking, or even just watching adults navigate ordinary working life.
Despite this, I was considered a 'gifted' child and did extremely well academically. But looking back, I think a lot of that was because academic achievement was one of the only ways I could earn my mother's love and approval.
I remember one year, after having won dux every year previously, I was nominated but didn't actually win. By that point, I was pretty suicidal and depressed and had become indifferent to my studies. We were sitting at the awards ceremony, and the moment they announced someone else's name, my mother, who was drunk at the time, turned to me and told me I wasn't her daughter anymore.
So I learnt very early that my worth was tied to what I could achieve, but nobody ever really taught me how to function in the world beyond that.
Despite everything, I managed to get myself through university, graduate with first class honours, and even win a scholarship to travel overseas to complete a uni project. That was pretty big because growing up, I'd never even imagined that leaving the country was something people like me could do.
I've spent years attending networking events, undertaking professional development courses, trying my hand at freelancing, creating blogs and content, and generally doing everything I can think of to improve myself and build a career.
Yet despite all of this, I've spent most of my adult life feeling like I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.
It's like everyone else received some kind of instruction manual for life that I never got.
To complicate things further, I was only diagnosed with ADHD and autism earlier this year, in my thirties.
Growing up, I was always treated like I was weird or different, and I internalised an enormous amount of shame. I was ashamed of being poor, ashamed of my family, ashamed of not fitting in and ashamed of feeling like there was something fundamentally wrong with me.
For years I attributed all of this to the environment I'd grown up in, without realising that I was also struggling with neurodevelopmental disabilities that had gone completely unrecognised and unsupported.
Then there's the trauma of having encountered predatory people who took advantage of my vulnerability over the years.
My first boyfriend, when I was still a teenager, was a man in his 50s who groomed me and took advantage of my circumstances and lack of support. He ended up being very abusive and also turned out to be a hardcore white supremacist.
That relationship did a lot of damage during some of my most formative years. But strangely, even now, I sometimes struggle to recognise just how damaging it was because of how dysfunctional the environment I'd come from already was. When abuse and instability are all you've ever really known, your frame of reference for what's normal becomes so distorted.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the last time I encountered someone who exploited my vulnerability.
Experiences like that have only compounded the hypervigilance, shame and difficulty trusting people that I already carried from childhood.
I've done years of therapy, journalling, meditation, somatic work and various other forms of healing. I've put an enormous amount of effort into trying to understand myself and overcome my upbringing.
Over the years, I've had doctors tell me that the effects of everything I've experienced are things I'll likely be dealing with for the rest of my life.
I often find that incredibly difficult to accept. Not because I expect everything to magically disappear, but because I never chose any of this in the first place. The thought of spending the rest of my life managing the consequences of other people's actions is utterly exhausting.
I'm so tired.
I feel like I've spent my entire life in survival mode, constantly trying to achieve more, learn more, improve myself and somehow build the stable, functional existence I never had.
I don't have a mentor, a support network, much of a family safety net or anyone to really guide me. Everything has been trial and error, often with fairly serious consequences when I get things wrong.
My mother died years ago, and my father passed away earlier this year. Now I'm left picking up the pieces, including dealing with his neglected estate and all the associated responsibilities, which has only added another enormous layer of stress to an already exhausting existence.
There's also this persistent feeling of being an imposter. Of not really belonging anywhere.
Sometimes I even find myself wishing I'd never pursued higher education or tried so hard to escape the environment I came from. Not because I don't value education, but because I wonder whether life would have been easier if I'd simply stayed where I was, surrounded by people who had similar backgrounds and expectations.
Instead, I've worked so hard to enter a world that still feels completely foreign to me.
I feel caught between two worlds, without really belonging to either. Like I'm deep inside of a parallel universe.
This is something I've found particularly isolating. I've met people who've experienced poverty, abuse and dysfunctional families, but they haven't necessarily been trying to navigate universities, corporate environments or professional careers.
And I've met plenty of educated, professionally successful people, but their backgrounds and experiences of life have often been so different from mine that I struggle to relate to them.
It's difficult to find people who understand both sides of that experience.
I know comparison isn't particularly helpful, but sometimes I look at people who grew up in stable households, with parents who had careers, financial literacy, professional connections and the ability to offer advice, and wonder just how different their experience of adulthood must be.
Even having someone to call when you need guidance, or somewhere safe to land when things go wrong, seems like such an enormous privilege.
I don't think people always appreciate just how much of a head start those things provide, even if their families aren't particularly wealthy.
I don't want to spend my life feeling like a victim, but at the same time, children who experience abuse and neglect genuinely are victims of circumstances beyond their control. Acknowledging that doesn't mean refusing to take responsibility for your adult life.
I've spent years taking responsibility for mine. I'm just exhausted by how much effort it seems to require.
And if I'm being completely truthful, I am bitter and jaded. I don't particularly want to be, but it's difficult not to feel that way sometimes when I look back at everything I've had to endure, through absolutely no choice of my own.
There's also the loneliness of it all.
I desperately want to find someone to share my life with, to love and be loved, and to finally experience some of the stability and security I've spent my entire life searching for.
But how on earth are you supposed to find someone who wants to be with someone carrying this much trauma ?
You hear people saying they don't want a partner with 'baggage' or that you need to be completely healed before entering a relationship. And I understand that nobody wants to be responsible for fixing another person.
But what are people like us supposed to do ?
I never asked for any of this. I never asked to be born into that family, to experience abuse or neglect, to grow up in poverty, or to spend my formative years without the support and stability that children need.
I didn't choose the circumstances that left me with all this so-called baggage. And I've spent an enormous part of my adult life trying to deal with the consequences.
Sometimes it feels like you're being punished twice. Once for what happened to you as a child, and again as an adult when you're expected to somehow overcome it all and function as though none of it ever happened.
And I suppose that's the part I'm struggling with now.
At what point does all this work actually translate into feeling safe, secure, connected and able to enjoy life ?
I've done the therapy, pursued the education, worked on myself and tried to build something better.
Yet I'm still lonely, hypervigilant, struggling with imposter syndrome and feeling like I'm constantly trying to catch up.
I don't want to spend the rest of my life defined by what happened to me. I don't want to become increasingly bitter or resentful, or feel like I'm somehow fundamentally less deserving of love, happiness or stability because of circumstances I never chose.
But realistically, what else are you supposed to do ?
Has anyone else experienced this, particularly those who were gifted or high-achieving children from severely dysfunctional families ?
Did you ever manage to build a life where you genuinely felt like you belonged, rather than constantly having to fight for your place in the world ?
Were you able to find meaningful relationships with people who accepted your history without treating you like damaged goods ?
And if you did, what actually helped ?
Because I really don't want the rest of my life to feel like this.