When you're a kid and your parents have the ability to control a lot of your life, the rules of common sense don't always apply. Ideally, parents are able to put aside whatever personal quirks they have and treat their kids fairly, but of course, some parents lose all perspective when it comes to raising a family.
These people grew up in the kind of household where their parents were strict in such a bizarre way, that it often took years for these kids to get back in touch with reality.
(Content has been edited for clarity.)
Beware The Mail Carrier
“My mom was paranoid that everyone and everything was a kidnapper. She hated the mail carrier on our route. So, when I was young, probably 4 years old, my mom told me it was illegal to be outside when the mail came.
Around 11:15 a.m. every day, I’d see that truck coming. I’d high-tail it inside the house, terrified I would be spotted.
Fast forward 30 years. I still genuinely feel a tinge of panic in the smallest recesses of the back of my brain when I see the mailman arrive. Only now it’s overpowered by the excitement of my latest Amazon package I don’t need.”
Basically, No Fun
“I had a ton of absurd rules growing up; too many to just list one.
No eating of birthday cupcakes at school. No giving or receiving of birthday presents.
No dressing up for Halloween or going trick or treating.
No Christmas presents.
I had to get up every Saturday morning, put on a full suit and tie, and knock on strangers’ doors to try to give them propaganda for a cult.
I wasn’t allowed to have friends who weren’t in the same cult.
I was threatened with disownment if I ever wanted to leave the cult.”
No French Fries In The Car
“My parents were all over the place with strictness. When I was old enough to drive, my younger sister and I would drive to McDonald’s, just a few miles away. My parents would admonish us, ‘Whatever you do, do NOT eat french fries in the car!’ Invariably, we would get home, they would run out, open the car doors, sniff, and start screaming at us for eating french fries in the car. We never did.
Their reasoning was that french fries attract seagulls, which would promptly crap on the family wagon, so that is why no french fries in the car. But again, we never ate them in the car.”
Write Out Your Apology, 10,000 Times
“I was grounded from the time I was 8 years old until I moved out. My stepmom would always find another reason to extend it, no matter how small, even just my bookcase being messy, and at some point, it just became normal that I wasn’t allowed to do anything and my dad didn’t bother to fight it. And grounding for me didn’t just mean I couldn’t play video games; it was everything. I had no access to any kind of technology, I couldn’t go outside, I couldn’t watch TV, I couldn’t be up past 8 p.m. (yes, even in summer when I was 17), I couldn’t leave my room without a good reason, I wasn’t allowed to be in my sister’s room or talk to her.
I lost my mom when I was 5 years old, and my stepmom came into the picture within a year. I was nowhere near recovered, and it felt like she was trying to replace my mom, so of course, I wouldn’t call her ‘Mom’ or anything like that. She and my father married when I was 7 without asking my 3-year-old sister or me. My little sister was still a baby when my mom died, and didn’t feel bad letting our stepmom be ‘mom.’ She didn’t know anything else. So my stepmom loved my sister and hated me, and I started doing worse and worse in school, giving my stepmom reason enough in my dad’s eyes to keep me grounded that whole school year. It just never stopped after that.
When I was 9, she found a cover to an adult film DVD I’d found in the trash and beat me with the buckle end of a belt. My grandparents (on my mom’s side) got pictures of the bruises but were too afraid my dad would move me across the country to do anything. It was enough that she was never physical again, but she just started making me write sentences after that. It started out ‘I will not lie’ 100 times, but that didn’t keep me busy long enough, so she kept adding to it every time I did something she didn’t like. The worst was when I was 14, and I ate some stevia packets from on top of the fridge and told her I didn’t know where the empty packets came from out of fear. She made me writer ‘I will not lie, I will not steal. God hates a thief and sin is death’ 10,000 times by the end of December. While I was writing them out, she came to my door, didn’t say a word, and just set her belt on the doorknob.
That was about as bad as it got, and honestly I consider myself lucky it never got worse. I went to my grandparents’ house almost every weekend, and they tried to spoil me as best they could. They weren’t rich, but they loved me and gave me everything they could. I wouldn’t be anywhere near the kind of person I am today without them, and I’m so thankful they were a part of my life. They taught me how a family is supposed to show love, since my mom couldn’t, my stepmom wouldn’t, and my dad didn’t know how.”
‘Download And Die’
“Here are some of the rules I dealt with in my childhood:
-No chewing gum allowed.
-No nail polish allowed.
-No video games allowed.
-One half-hour of tv per day, maximum (until high school, when they got rid of it completely).
-‘Download and Die’ – no downloading anything on the computer; no matter how legitimate.
-No jumping on trampolines or riding 4-wheelers.
-No sugar cereal. Wheaties or bust!
-On the rare occasion I got to have a sleepover, I had to be home by 8 a.m. the next day.
-No sleeping in on weekends. My mom would pound on the intercom for 10 minutes each morning and then come physically drag me out of bed if I didn’t get up.
-Save 50 percent of each paycheck. Mandatory.
Punishments were also harsh. I got caught talking to people on instant messenger who I didn’t know when I was 15 years old, and I wasn’t allowed to use the internet until I turned 18 and moved away from home. They even revoked my school internet permission form. Once, when I was 16, my mom read my diary (where I’d been saying horrible things about her), and she took it away, wrote me a seven-page letter about what a horrible human being I was, and tried to send me to live with my biological father.”
The Smell Of Liberation
“My mom was obsessed with clean feet. Every day before school, she would make sure we got in the bath and cleaned our feet.
She’d have the bath full of scolding hot water every morning and the first thing would we do, before eating, before showering, before changing into our clothes, is dip our feet in that scalding hot water. Then my mom would load our feet up with this strong smelling soap from some specialty store and she would scrub every square micro-inch of our feet with this stiff bristled brush. Maybe it was for cleaning horse teeth, I don’t know.
It hurt so bad. The water was too hot, the soap stung, and the brushing was too intense. I never got used to it, but I couldn’t talk back or avoid it either. If I tried to get out of it or complain about it, BLAM! Slapped across the face. Complain about the slap? BOOM! Grounded from TV, the computer, friends, and books.
It wasn’t until I left for college did I experience what it was like to not thoroughly clean my feet every single morning. It felt liberating. I even walked around without socks sometimes (my mom always made us wear two pairs). I still had my feet scrubbed like crazy when I came home to visit though.”
You’re Grounded, Forever
“My dad wouldn’t let me go out, at all. The only time he would let me leave the house was to walk to school and even then, he had to walk me to the entrance. I was teased for it all the time. Due to my isolated upbringing, I’m socially awkward. And he wonders why I won’t go out and find myself a partner. He never raised my sisters that way, just me.
He also wouldn’t let me chew gum. He would flip out. He has physically pried my mouth open to take the gum out.
He is such a bizarre, controlling man.”
Why Pay For Braces Then?
“I couldn’t brush my teeth after breakfast on school mornings.
I had braces, and my mom wouldn’t let me brush my teeth after breakfast in fear of us being late for school. I offered to make my own breakfast earlier in the morning in order to compensate, so I could get all the gunk out of my braces after eating. However, when I made my breakfast the next morning, she revoked my ‘ride to school privilege.’ I had to ride my bike to school every day from then on. It was my punishment for being disobedient.”
We’re Being Watched
“Not me, but one of my friends. For context, my friends and I are 24 years old.
We went over to my friend’s house in Long Island a week ago. I don’t have my own car yet, so my brother-in-law and sister dropped me off. I moved to a different part of Long Island about a year ago, so I don’t have a ride back home like I did when I lived in Queens. So I asked my friend, whose house I was at, if he could drop me home. Initially he said yes, but as we were all ready to leave to go home, my friend informs me that his parents have a tracker on him and he can’t drop me home.
I had no problem taking the train home, but we were so perplexed when he said it as if it was normal. I knew his parents were strict and wouldn’t let him go anywhere when we were kids, but holy crap, the fact that he’s still subjected to this, to the point where they placed a tracker on him made me sad on my way home.”
Who Drank The Kool-Aid?
“We had to ask permission to go into the refrigerator.
There was an incident once where someone poured themselves a glass of Kool-Aid without asking. It resulted in my dad sitting us kids around the dinner table for an hour-long interrogation. We all knew that whoever admitted to it would get whooped, so no one spoke up.
Eventually, my dad got sick of grilling us, so he threatened us by saying that he’d just whip all of us if no one admitted it, because that way he’d know he got the right one.
Me being dumb and selfless, even though I did not do it, ended up lying and taking the fall. My 8-year-old brain rationalized that my step-siblings would hurt more from a whipping because they’d never been hit by him before. I told myself it wouldn’t hurt me as badly.
My dad took me in the other room, bent me over the bed, and laid into me so hard the headboard made a dent in the wall. I couldn’t sit for hours. Right after that, he told me he’d known the whole time who did it, and he’d only whipped me because I lied to him.
Sure showed me not to try to be noble again. Thanks a lot, dad.”
Maybe You’re The Real Harry Potter?
“My mom used to not allow me to watch any movies that had magic in them. ‘Jumanji’ was considered ‘demonic.’ I didn’t see the ‘Little Mermaid’ until I was 16 years old. I didn’t watch ‘The Princess and the Frog’ until I moved out.
I was also banned from reading or watching ‘Harry Potter.’ I managed to sneak that in at the age of 20. Mom never caught me. Dad didn’t care.”
It’s A Long Story
“I’m a girl. My mom wouldn’t let me wear shorts that were above the knee. I remember how embarrassing it was on spring break when long shorts were all I had to wear, and my friends’ parents were wearing shorter shorts than me. I bought some normal-sized shorts once when I was at the mall with friends. I put them on with a tank top and asked my mom if I could go to the movies. She told me I looked like a street walker. I was 12 years old.
Fast forward several years when we were looking at old family photos. I saw my mom wearing short jean shorts herself when we were babies!
When I was even younger, around 8, I got a dress from Limited Too that I loved. I wanted to wear it to church. While I was in the car, my mom started yelling at me about how it was too short, and I was embarrassing, and how we’d have to turn around and she’d make me change. It made me cry. My dad stood up for me and told her it was only a dress and to stop being so mean.
Ever since I got my own car and could buy my own clothes, I wear tight short shorts and tank tops. Screw you mom, you’re the only one who cared what I wore, you judgemental whacko!”
The Price Of Eating Candy
“My mom didn’t allow candy. Once I snagged a box of Valentine hearts candy from preschool and smuggled them home. Out of the goodness of my heart, I decided to share them with my undeservedly revered older brother. Said brother quickly decided that getting free candy was nowhere near as entertaining as me being punished and humiliated, and told my mom I was eating contraband candy. So like any reasonable adult would do, she freaked out and pulled a Valentine heart out of my mouth while I was trying to eat it.”
Less Talky, More Cleany
“My dad was raised with the idea that kids essentially have no opinion, which he passed on to my sister and me. If we were doing anything and he or my mom needed us to do something else, we were expected to immediately drop it and go do the other thing. It doesn’t sound that bad until I’d be in the middle of painting or something else messy, be called to do dishes, then in the middle of dishes be called to clean up the original mess, then go to clean that up and be yelled at for not finishing dishes.”
Bring Your Little Brother
“I couldn’t shave my legs until I was 16 years old. I did when I was 12. My mom found out and grounded me.
I had to ask to get a drink of anything or eat anything.
I couldn’t go anywhere unless my little brother could go too, or if he had a play date. If he didn’t have anyone to play with, then I couldn’t either.
We are eight years apart.”
Just Take A Taxi
“I once got grounded for two months because my school bus was late.
For backstory, I was 12 years old when this happened. A couple of kids almost got into a fistfight before the school left the parking lot and the bus driver had to get the principal to break it up and take them back to the school. The bus driver lectured us about fighting before driving us home. This caused us to be 30 minutes late. When I explained this to my mother, she blamed the whole situation one me which was completely irrational because A) I barely knew the kids who were involved, and B) I was an introvert, bookworm type who never got into a fight, and C) if I had been in the fight I would have been taken to the principal’s office for punishment instead of being allowed to ride the bus home.
She made a rule that I would be grounded every time the bus was late going forward regardless of the reasoning. I grew up in the northeast part of the U.S., so even when the bus driver had to drive home slowly because of snow, I would still get punished. Needless to say, I wasn’t allowed out of the house much in middle school and high school.”
Call Me If You Need Milk
“My mom wouldn’t let me open a new milk (or any food items, really) without her permission. As in, we would have an extra milk in the garage fridge, but I would have to ration out the milk we still had in the fridge. Instead of a normal household, where you could just get more, I had to call her and ask. So that meant if she didn’t pick up, then I would have to wait for her to call back.
The first time I realized this wasn’t normal is when I friend went to open a new gallon of milk and I got anxious and was like, ‘Dude, you have to call your mom right now or she’ll freak out.’ She was like, ‘Umm. My mom will be okay if I need a glass of milk.’
It suddenly clicked that my mom was a control freak.”
You Better Be Perfect
“Go to school, but I won’t drive you. Get good grades, but don’t stay for any extracurriculars or sports because once you get home you have a list of chores to do. You must be perfect. There’s a water spot on this fork, so you have to redo every dish in the house. I just made food after you vacuumed, and you missed all these crumbs. Do it again. Why are you still up so late, turn the light off! (while trying to get homework done since I spent hours cleaning) No friends over, your curfew is 8 p.m.
It’s 8:01, you’re late! You’re not allowed in. Just stay out. You don’t deserve your room, you get the garage. And you need to pay some rent to live under this roof, so you need to get a job. Oh, you got a job. Okay, move out then. If your stuff is here by the time I get home, it’s going in the trash!
Welcome to my entire childhood and adolescence.”