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You guys had your own room?
OMG now I realize how much having a room to yourself is such a privilage.
When I was in Guangzhou, China, I had to share a room eith my older brother. I still remember, it was so fucking small, it had to be those double decker beds and I was in the botton cuz I was the younger one and didn't get to choose. (also I think my mom was worried I'd fall lol)
It's why I got into a conflicts wih my older brother which resulted in him abusing me (non-sexually).
Then when we moved to Brooklyn, NYC, same thing, but the room was slightly bigger so didn't need the double decker beds and we just slept side by side, like two beds just put together side by side. And like I remember there are like conflicts about like "crossing the boundary" in between the bed.
So basically, For the first 12 years of my life, I didn't have my own space.
I remember when I was in NYC (age 8-12), I was just frequenly just going to my parents' room and sleep with them since they had a large queen size bed or something. (Yes I know I was very clingy... separation anxiety maybe) And like I didn't like being in the room with my older brother... so annoying.
After we moved to Philly, I had my own room, but I still remember occasionally going to my parents room and sleeping with them...
Idk why, tho. They were emotionally abusive to me... why do I have such a strong attachment?
So yea... I think I have a trauma bond with my parents, especially mom.
I think mom think of me the same way, but not as an individual, but an extension of her, so she feels like she could do whatever she wants with me, with "her stuff" since it's "their house, their rules".
I still have problems trying to actually grow and be independent...
I've had to share my room with my younger sister for most of my childhood and teenage years. And even when I had the room to myself, the door didn't have a lock or anything to prevent any member of my family just walking in like it's none of my business.
It didn't help that for some reason one of the wardrobes with clothing was in the same room. Like, not just my own clothing, but my parents' and some bathroom towels, I think. So I didn't even have a good reason to not let my parents walk in since they might have needed something from the wardrobe. (That is, of course, assuming they'd even listen to reason.)
Personal space is such a weird concept to me, still. I might now be overcompensating for my cramped teenage years by willingly self-isolating. And I don't really know how to comfort other people other than giving them space, because that's what I was lacking the most.