If you grew up poor...

[Anonymous]

Thank you all for sharing your stories.

We grew up with money, but then my dad lost it all. Declared bankruptcy my senior year, suffered a break-down, and divorced my mom. He sunk all of the college savings, and I couldn't go to college until I worked three jobs at 18 to raise the money. We lost our house, cars, everything.

I realize this doesn't compare to what others went through.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:Thank you all for sharing your stories.

We grew up with money, but then my dad lost it all. Declared bankruptcy my senior year, suffered a break-down, and divorced my mom. He sunk all of the college savings, and I couldn't go to college until I worked three jobs at 18 to raise the money. We lost our house, cars, everything.

I realize this doesn't compare to what others went through.

It sounds terribly traumatic. I'm so sorry that happened to you, PP. Sounds like you were totally blindsided, but made it through in the end. That's awesome and you should be proud of yourself.

[Anonymous]

Grew up poor in SE DC during the height of the crack epidemic. I remember:

-Eating jelly sandwiches to stave off the hunger.
-Not being allowed to go outside because we lived two doors down from a crack house.
-Seeing the grass and yard littered with drug needles.
-Seeing fights break out. Saw one guy get shot in front of me.
-Being so happy about our toys from Toys for Tots on Christmas.
-Roaches everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. For many years, I wouldn't eat macaroni n'cheese because when I was young, I remember going for seconds and discovering a roach in the food.
-Rats, everywhere. Would catch so many in a given day.

[Anonymous]

-I thought paper towels and ziploc bags were for rich people. I felt like I had made it once I was on my own post-college and could afford to buy them.
-Definitely sucked getting free lunches -- it was so embarrassing
-Only having one pair of shoes, usually cheap white shoes (similar to Keds) that I got from the dollar store. Once they were worn through, I would get a new pair. When I was old enough to make a little money babysitting, I remember buying two pairs for $5 or something like that and it felt like such a luxury.
-Not getting to go on class trips, participate in sports that cost money, buy books from the book fair, etc.
-Wearing my mom's too-big shirts (because I didn't have any clean ones) and getting teased for it

[Anonymous]

If you grew up in poverty, do you resent your parents for it? Why or why not?

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:If you grew up in poverty, do you resent your parents for it? Why or why not?

I'm 17:25, and yes, I have felt resentment about it in the past. Mostly toward my mother because there always seemed to be money for cigarettes, or going out to a bar, while I went without.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:If you grew up in poverty, do you resent your parents for it? Why or why not?

No. My mom thinks she did a great job. I'll let her, why not what's it going to fix now.

Will I have children - no. I always said I wanted enough money to have a child so they never had to suffer. Now I'm too old to have a child.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:If you grew up in poverty, do you resent your parents for it? Why or why not?

17:08 here. No, I don't resent my mother. Nor my Dad either really (who divorced my Mom and didn't provide any support during my childhood). To some degree, she did the best she could. She came from an environment which resulted in her having little motivation to do better. My upbringing instilled in me the desire to do better for my children, not hold grudges against my Mom (who is an AWESOME grandmother).

[Anonymous]

Im literally crying reading through all of your stories.

I grew up poor to a single mom. I was an only child. We slept in the car for a good 5-6 years. I remember being so embarrased in elementary school because we would always be the first in line when school opened every morning. In our beat up two toned car with all of the physical possessions that we owned stacked up to the top of the car. I was embarrased and I never had friends bc I didnt have a home for friends to come to.

Since my mom worked multiple low paying jobs and couldnt afford a babysitter she would leave me at borders bookstore until they closed at 10 or 11pm with strict instructions never to leave the store. One night they closed and kicked me out and I remember being so terrified waiting outside on the corner for my mom to come get me. I thouht she had abandoned me and want coming back. As I saw her pull around the corner I had never been so happy to get into that beat up old car in my entire life.

Sometimes at borders I would get hungry so I developed a system where I went into the womens bathroom and raided all of the quarters from the womens tampon and feminine pad machine. Im sure the person who refilled the machine wondered where all of the quarters were going. I would take the quarters and buy a sandwich or pastry from the small cafe inside of borders.

Sometimes I would sneak out to the grocery store next door to borders and order potato salad or lunch meat and cheese from the deli section and just walk around the store eating that. This went on for about a year until the store manager asked where my mom was one day. I lied and said that she was parking the car and would be in soon. I left the food sitting in the cart ran out of the store and never went back.

For showers we used thd public pool at a park. You had to pay to go in the front door so my mom and I would sneak in through the sided

[Anonymous]

^^ sneak in throug the side door. These are just some examples that I remember from my childhood of growing up poor.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:Poster from the huge family in the Deep South again.
Was thinking about the points raised about the varying degrees of poverty and education as a way out.
One of my college roommates was the product of an affair (her mom had sex with a man in the neighborhood who promised to help take care of her other kids). Her mom was an illiterate, single mom who grew up sharecropping as a child.
She worked as a maid to make ends meet. The family had no power or running water. My friend remembers stealing water from the neighbors when they left for work. The kids would snag the garden hose and fill up the sink. They often went to bed hungry and cold. The man down the street never fulfilled his promise to help feed the kids and didn't acknowledge her as his daughter until he was on her deathbed. By then, my friend, who later taught her mother to read, put herself through undergrad, law school, and was working in the state AG's office let him know exactly where he was heading when he died.
For all of us, my friend, me, my DH (whose mother slept outside of the city's sole public school for gifted kids to make sure his name was first on the list for slots), education was critical. So was having parents who cared and fought for education and well being. We also had members of the community who took an interest and cared. That's not to say that always works or it's a magic solution. A childhood friend who also grew up poor had a brother who was smart and good hearted. He was shot to death at 16 when he tried to stop another neighbor from beating his wife and kids.
We were all the lucky ones who people looked out for and who made it out.

I was the first person in my family to graduate high school in the '90s. I went to college on full scholarship and then graduate school. I worked jobs and lived on $5 a week for food during my undergraduate days. I feel like it is getting tougher for education to be the ticket out for people. I find it heartbreaking that opportunity is getting harder and harder to grasp onto for poor kids.

[Anonymous]

Free lunch vouchers, that I wouldn't use.
Dish detergent thinned down with water as shampoo - certainly no conditioner
no money for personal things like deodorant
no laundry detergent, so hand washing clothing with soap, when we had it, or just water, and hoping the sweat stink wouldn't linger too much when I was about 11
being "the smelly kid"
never being taken to the dentist. not even once - went for the first time at age 24. No cavities! But I need valium to so much as sit in the chair.
government cheese
food stamps
eating spam
not eating
the domestic abuse next door
the domestic abuse when my mom was dating
getting beat up as the only white girl in the projects
thinking my dad (divorced parents) who was working class, tops, was "rich" (and he was, by comparison)
being "hood rich" when the child support check came
knowing my mom spent his child support (which was next to nothing) on cigarettes and of all things, bingo
any birthday money I ever got was "borrowed" (without permission) and not returned
being surrounded by poverty (much worse than we had it)
seeing a lot, a LOT of drug use as a child
child abuse was rampant. I was abused and neglected, my sibs were abused and neglected, and we never knew it, because EVERYONE around us parented that way.
memories of being held with my arm behind my back while my mom wacked indiscriminately at my back and shoulders and head with her other hand, a lit cig hanging from her mouth
memories of watching the same thing happen to my younger brothers
severing ties with my mom when i was 17
renewing them around 25
years of giving my mom money
severing ties again around 32 when i'd had enough
renewing them when I was about 36, with healthier boundaries
insecurity
making up lies about my childhood, "vacations" we took, etc
pretending that i knew how to swim to try out for swim team - and a swim coach who not only let me "make it" but taught me how to swim (in 6th grade)
Being "grounded" and not allowed to go to swim-team practice for sassing my mom
not being allowed to try out the next year because I needed to babysit my brothers
joining the team again in high school
my first time running away when my mom told me no more swim team for some type of punishment
A grandma who always believed in me (bless her)
police station, telling them about the swim team, some cop saying child and family services
screaming, beatings, but no more swim team interference
partial scholarship for swimming
working 60 hours a week, going to college full time
lying about internships I supposedly had (no time!) in order to get my first job
making up lies about my first job to get my second job
turning "making up lies" into "reinventing myself"
hard work
not looking back
struggling with materialism now, wanting to buy ALL THE THINGS now that I can, and forcing myself to balance providing for my children with making them understand the value of a dollar
wanting to help other poor kids, not always doing it


The most damaging thing was the bolded part. You grow up thinking that is normal. I can see how the cycle perpetuates itself. This thread has inspired me to get involved, again, in volunteering with children who are where I once was. It is hard for me, to face the past so directly, but these kids need a leg up.

[Anonymous]

Seems like a small thing but some of you really make me want to setup a fund when my kid gets to HS to help classmates pay for events.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:If you grew up in poverty, do you resent your parents for it? Why or why not?

Yes. My SAHM should have got off of her ass and got a job. How could she let kids grow up that way?

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:
Prior poster here. I just wanted to thank the posters who grew up really (truly) poor, without the basics - and are sharing their stories.

Maybe, just maybe, it might shed some light on what it truly means to be poor. For those who complain about not being able to get their hair done. Wow. This really burns me up, to know there are people who are so clueless.

This is not a competition for who was the poorest.

People struggled in different ways. Not being able to have a decent haircut or having decent clothes, especially at a time when you wanted to be liked by boys, really had an effect on me. Oh, and the lousy food we were eating made me overweight. I felt unattractive, unworthy of someone's attention and hopeless.

I just posted (long post - said this thread inspired me to volunteer again). I remember my grandmother (the "rich" dad's mom, who had a moderately stable life) helped us so much. This was a lifeline for us and helped me in so many ways. Anyway, I remember her telling me once, years and years after my poor days were over, that my mom's mom was once at her house, while my dad (her son) and my mom were still married. And she said my mom's mom began to mess with her hair, and went to the bathroom, and came out with red eyes. My grandma (dad's mom) asked her what was wrong, and my mom's mom said she felt so embarrassed of her hair. She apologized for showing up looking so tattered. She had been hoping to have her hair done, but there just wasn't enough money left over. My grandmother (herself, I realize now, working class at best, but with steady income) said she was flooded with sympathy for this woman, and of all the hardships she knew the other grandma had suffered, could not get this one out of her mind, because it was such a stark contrast to her own life that she could hardly imagine what it must be like not to have even enough money to have her hair washed and curled (which is what the ladies did back then - it cost so little, like a dollar maybe). And these are two women who grew up in the depression.