I had a beautiful, happy childhood with two parents, grandparents and a big family. Back then, hardly anyone was rolling in money. At first the four of us lived in 29 m2 (about 310 sq ft), but my parents worked hard.
They went on trading trips abroad, which, as I found out later, were very stressful, and in the '80s we had luxuries at home like a color TV and an Atari 800XL computer.
When I was growing up in the wonderful '90s, we moved to a much bigger apartment where I had my own room and a Game Boy, and I regularly went on vacation to a cabin in Czchów and to summer camps in Poland and even abroad.
We had various cars and a PC, which had a big impact on developing my tech skills and, later, on my career.
Looking around, my parents were doing better than the neighbors. We could afford good candy, a mountain bike and a dishwasher. I had an allowance and money to spend at the school store.
Growing up, I rarely heard about divorce, and alcoholism practically never crossed my radar. As I got older, I kept meeting more and more people who hadn't had a childhood like mine. People from broken homes, adult children of alcoholics, people who grew up in poverty, victims of abuse, or all of the above.
You've probably heard that therapy often starts with digging through the rubble of childhood, because that's where behavior patterns take shape and traumas are born that strongly affect our adult lives.
Keep that in mind if you had a beautiful childhood. Not everyone was as lucky as you.
I love my parents more than life itself, and they have a wonderful marriage. Growing up means realizing that the parents we always saw as strong, unbreakable and “eternal” are getting old and one day won't be here. I'm scared to even think about it.