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Have you ever had a treasured object "destroyed"?

oregano

deliver us to evil
V.I.P Member
Nicole's post about how her teacups fell off the wall and smashed, and how she cried for four hours over it, inspired this. Have you ever had a treasured object of any kind made permanently unavailable to you? Stolen, destroyed, sold without your knowledge, etc?

This was more common when I was young. When I was a baby my parents bought a big green car to haul themselves, me, and all the stuff they needed to bring with me, around town. I literally could not remember life without that car. When I was 12 the engine head cracked, and the car sat for a year, and then my dad sold it. I was really upset, and my parents couldn't understand why I was so upset over a car. This was in the late 1980s before anybody knew anything about autism.

When I was a freshman in high school the high school gym was old and had really tiny lockers, lockers so tiny the only thing that would fit in them were our street clothes. We had to leave our backpacks on the floor. When the swimming unit of PE rolled around, I had to take off my treasured watch and leave it in my backpack. It was one of those touch screen calculator watches that were popular then, and was fairly expensive.
One day while we were out at the pool, we came back and ALL of our backpacks had been rifled through and EVERYTHING of ANY value AT ALL was gone. Including my watch. The thieves had even ripped off the rubber cladding on our combination locks! (At the time, Master Lock sold a lock that came in several different colors, with a colored dial and colored rubber around the lock, to the teenage set.) I was devastated because my watch was gone, and everybody was just "get over it jerk, it's just a watch".
Sometimes I wonder if the head of the athletic department, who was a cranky old galoot who remembered when dirt was young, had arranged the theft to teach us a lesson.

When my parents sold my childhood home in 2005, I was inwardly much more upset than I let on outside. I kept having dreams about the house. They had bought the house when my mom was pregnant, literally my very first experiences of a home were when I was a few days old and was discharged from the hospital after being born. Even when I moved out I always had the option of visiting. Now I couldn't do that and deep down somewhere I was really upset. I kept driving past the house for a while. Eventually I came to accept it.
 
I definitely know the pain of losing treasured items,when I was 17 my dad put my barbie doll collection in storage after we got evicted from our home,he didn't pay the storage so all my dolls got auctioned off,I cried for days on end,I had lost everything and also when we stayed at my dads friends place I had what was left over which was my portfolios of my drawings I did through the years and my dad owed board to his friend so his friend kicked us out and kept my drawings and my clothes,I literally had to start from scratch and while I was able to build my collection I am unable to get back those drawings I lost,also because of how my parents were with not paying bills I am extremely hyper vigilant about bills and always pay on time when it comes to rent or electricity etc but i will still cry when I think back to when I lost my dolls and drawing portfolios which has added a extra layer of my already strong attachment to my toys and drawings.
 
When I moved out of my parents, my sister wanted my bedroom. She chucked a load of little bits and pieces of mine (knick-knacks) and a box I had with old cinema stubs, photos and other random stuff in into bin bags. My room was in the attic, so she put the bags in the crawl space. I forgot about all this stuff, and then when my parents moved out of that house a few years later...my Dad asked her to bag up anything to go down the tip. You can see where this is going. She piled all the bin bags up and added the ones from the crawl space, without looking in them. Everything went to the tip before I even knew about it. Thankfully, I can't remember everything that was there, so it doesn't upset me as much as it could.
 
I had a treasured blue teddy bear given to me by my grandparents when I was born. I loved the fact that it had a bell in one ear and was really fascinated to know why. It went every where with me and I felt a special connnection because we were the same age.

I was 23 or maybe a bit younger, when my youngest sister, at the age of 7, was put into care. Anyway, each time I went to see her, she was in histerics as I was leaving and that tore my heart apart and so I told her, that these visits must stop if she could not cope with me going ( I was not allowed to adopt her). She did stop, but it was evident that she was still distraught and so I did the only thing I could and give her my beloved blue, with bell in ear, teddy bear and hoped it would bring as much comfort to her, as it had done to me.

Unfortunately, her mother was permitted to write to her and defamed me and so, my sister wanted nothing to do with me and therefore, I never saw my teddy again.

Year's later, I did manage to find her ( through social services). It was frustrating that they could talk to her, but I was not allowed. Anyway, as an adult, she has chosen that she wants nothing to do with her birth family, but I was reassured that she held no malice towards me. I felt angry actually, but not with her. I asked if she still had my teddy and if yes, I would very much appreciate it back again. but they said that I must see it as lost for ever :(

I admit, just recounting that, has me in tears :(:(:(
 
Nicole's post about how her teacups fell off the wall and smashed, and how she cried for four hours over it, inspired this. Have you ever had a treasured object of any kind made permanently unavailable to you? Stolen, destroyed, sold without your knowledge, etc?

This was more common when I was young. When I was a baby my parents bought a big green car to haul themselves, me, and all the stuff they needed to bring with me, around town. I literally could not remember life without that car. When I was 12 the engine head cracked, and the car sat for a year, and then my dad sold it. I was really upset, and my parents couldn't understand why I was so upset over a car. This was in the late 1980s before anybody knew anything about autism.

When I was a freshman in high school the high school gym was old and had really tiny lockers, lockers so tiny the only thing that would fit in them were our street clothes. We had to leave our backpacks on the floor. When the swimming unit of PE rolled around, I had to take off my treasured watch and leave it in my backpack. It was one of those touch screen calculator watches that were popular then, and was fairly expensive.
One day while we were out at the pool, we came back and ALL of our backpacks had been rifled through and EVERYTHING of ANY value AT ALL was gone. Including my watch. The thieves had even ripped off the rubber cladding on our combination locks! (At the time, Master Lock sold a lock that came in several different colors, with a colored dial and colored rubber around the lock, to the teenage set.) I was devastated because my watch was gone, and everybody was just "get over it jerk, it's just a watch".
Sometimes I wonder if the head of the athletic department, who was a cranky old galoot who remembered when dirt was young, had arranged the theft to teach us a lesson.

When my parents sold my childhood home in 2005, I was inwardly much more upset than I let on outside. I kept having dreams about the house. They had bought the house when my mom was pregnant, literally my very first experiences of a home were when I was a few days old and was discharged from the hospital after being born. Even when I moved out I always had the option of visiting. Now I couldn't do that and deep down somewhere I was really upset. I kept driving past the house for a while. Eventually I came to accept it.

I have lost everything I owned several times. I usually deal with this pretty well, but do get disturbed if I dwell on something that meant a lot to me. I manage to avoid thinking of such things most of the time and try to stop doing it whenever I start thinking about my losses.

Those things are gone forever and it only makes me feel worse when I brood about them. I feel happier not thinking about my losses, so I don't.
 
My mother threw away a box of my stuff, including a folder of affirmations from a school camp . The whole class wrote (individually) saying nice things about me (and everyone else) and put them in an envelope with the person's name on it. I miss that, because I didn't hear alot of nice things growing up. She also threw out an autograph I had of Burnum Burnum - Wikipedia who I really looked up to at the time.
 
My mom and the neighbors were having a garage sale and she sold all of my toys including my whole collection of My Little Ponies for only 25 cents. Most were moldy from being in the bath but still they were mine. It still stings so I try not to think about it.

I've had toys destroyed unintentionally by family members being too young so I generally don't let anyone touch my stuff.
 
Agh, I get like this about alot of things. I tend to be extremely posessive and clingy when it comes to things I own or have any connection to, so I never throw anything away, and if something vanishes, it just gets to me so much. Hell, I get really bothered if my dog loses one of his toys.

The worst was this old collection of gaming magazines I had, from many years ago, 80s through the very early 90s. I had hundreds of them. I grew up with those and frequently read through them... they were familiar and comforting. And then the flood came. It obliterated every single thing in the basement while we were off on vacation (and of course my mother had put the bloody things down there). It wasnt even just those... all sorts of cherished toys and things were lost. Things I had alot of memories attached to. It was horrible. I could cry just thinking about it. Heck, I have trouble with "nostalgia" at the best of times, I cant handle the emotions that come from it. But that particular event was extra awful as that goes.

There was also the time when my collection of Atari games (the ancient cartridges) got put up in the attic for... some reason. Many years ago. I wasnt exactly pleased about it. About 2 years ago though I finally got them back. Now they're all over my room, because of course they are. So at least that ended well, sorta.
 

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