If any of these felt uncomfortably familiar, take a breath as realizing your “normal” wasn’t universal can stir up weird emotions.
I didn’t have some dramatic “poverty montage” childhood.
I had a home, I had parents who showed up, I had dinner most nights, I had birthdays, and I had a backpack filled with school supplies.
Naturally, I assumed we were doing fine.
It wasn’t until I got to college that I realized my definition of “fine” was basically: We’re surviving, nobody’s talking about it, and we’re all pretending it’s normal.
College was full of tiny shocks, like the everyday assumptions my roommates had that I didn’t even know were assumptions.
If you’re reading this with that familiar ache in your chest, let me say it plainly: you’re not weird. You’re not broken. You’re not “behind.”
You just grew up learning a different set of rules.
Here are seven things I thought were totally normal until I went away to college and realized how not everyone lives like this:
1) Money was treated like a taboo topic
At home, money wasn’t discussed.
It was more like a fog that hovered over everything.
Bills came in, tension rose, conversations got shorter, and you learned to read the room fast plus what not to ask for.
When I got to college and heard people casually say things like, “My parents are figuring out how much they can contribute,” I was genuinely confused.
Contribute to what? With numbers? Out loud?
I remember sitting with a group in the dining hall while someone complained about their parents “only” covering part of their rent.
Everyone nodded like this was a common problem.
Meanwhile, I had been trained to treat money like a fragile object.
Here’s the psychological piece: When money becomes taboo, kids learn money anxiety.
If this hits home, a practical step is to start building a new relationship with money that’s based on clarity instead of fear.
That can be as simple as tracking your spending for one month without judging yourself.
Awareness is the first form of control.
2) “Shopping” meant calculating, not browsing
Some people shop the way they breathe: Casually, regularly, without a math problem attached.
In my house, shopping was strategic as you went with a list and a plan and you prayed nothing unexpected happened, like the car needing gas.
I thought everyone compared unit prices, knew which store had the cheapest whatever, and treated a new pair of jeans like a capital investment.
College changed that, like how my roommates bought candles like it was a normal expense.
I say it because it was my first real lesson that what feels “responsible” is often just what you were forced to practice.
If you grew up like this, you might still get a stress spike when you buy something that isn’t strictly necessary.
A helpful reframe is: Being careful isn’t the same as being deprived.
Try building a small “joy budget.”
A specific amount that you’re allowed to spend on something purely pleasant, no justification required.
Start tiny; the point is teaching your nervous system that pleasure doesn’t equal danger.
3) Vacations were something other families did
When people at college talked about spring break, they didn’t mean sleeping in and catching up on laundry.
They meant flights, resorts, photos, and stories.
I remember nodding along like, “Totally, yeah, the beach,” while quietly thinking, “Wait, people’s families just leave town for fun?”
My family’s “vacation” was maybe a day trip, maybe visiting relatives or maybe doing something free.
Honestly, I didn’t resent it at the time, but college showed me a new norm: Rest was scheduled and travel was expected.
Not having those things meant missing social glue because vacations are currency in conversation.
They’re stories, they’re bonding, and they’re shared references.
If you grew up without travel, it can feel like you have nothing to contribute.
Here’s a gentle reminder: Your life still counts as a life.
Practically, you can build your own version of “vacation” now.
It might be a day hike, a camping weekend, or a cheap bus trip to a new city.
I’m a trail runner and a gardener, and I’ll tell you, a few hours on a quiet trail can reset a brain that’s been running on survival mode for years.
Rest doesn’t have to be expensive to be real.
4) We fixed everything ourselves, even when we shouldn’t have
In my childhood, things got repaired until they basically begged to be put out of their misery.
I thought this was normal as I thought everyone knew how to make something last because replacing it was not an option.
When I got to college and watched someone toss a perfectly usable lamp because it didn’t match their room, I almost short-circuited.
To be clear: Being resourceful is a strength, yet that sometimes comes with a shadow side.
If you always had to make do, you may struggle to ask for help now.
Pick one area of your life where you “DIY” your way through stress, and experiment with support.
Support can mean paying for something that saves your time, and it can mean letting someone else do the thing you always do.
It will feel uncomfortable at first, but that’s normal too!
5) Food was more emotional than I realized
I grew up with a very specific relationship to food: Don’t waste it, finish it, be grateful, and don’t complain.
In college, I met people who didn’t think about groceries much.
People who left food in the fridge until it spoiled because they “forgot about it,” and people who could afford to be picky.
I remember seeing someone throw away half a takeout meal and thinking, “That’s a whole second meal.”
Food scarcity, even mild, teaches your brain to cling.
It can show up later as anxiety around having “enough,” overeating when stressed, or feeling guilty when you buy higher-quality food.
As a vegan now, I’ve noticed how easy it is for people to assume plant-based eating is either cheap or expensive, depending on what they picture.
However, the deeper truth is: Your food choices are shaped by your history, not just your ethics.
If food has emotional weight for you, one small action is to create a “safe pantry” list.
A few affordable staples you always keep on hand so your brain can relax; think rice, beans, oats, lentils, peanut butter, frozen vegetables.
When your body knows there’s a backup plan, your stress response quiets down.
6) Medical care was for emergencies, not maintenance
This one took me a while to even recognize.
Growing up, you went to the doctor if you were really sick.
Otherwise, you waited it out, used home remedies, and hoped it passed.
In college I learned some people had annual checkups like it was as routine as getting a haircut.
Dental cleanings twice a year, vision appointments, therapy, and preventive care.
I didn’t think my upbringing was neglectful, but it did shape my baseline.
When your body care is built around emergencies, you can grow into an adult who ignores small problems until they become big ones because you learned to minimize your needs.
Practical step: If you’re able, pick one preventive habit and schedule it.
Your health is your foundation.
7) “Help” came with strings, so independence became my personality
In college, I noticed how easily some people accepted support, such as parents paying for books, family sending money for groceries, or a quick phone call and a problem got solved.
My instinct was the opposite: Handle it alone, don’t ask, and don’t owe.
For many of us, help came with conditions, guilt, stress, or later payback.
Even when people meant well, it didn’t feel simple.
So, I became very good at being “low maintenance.”
I worked, figured things out, and made myself small enough to not need much.
That coping strategy works until it doesn’t.
Adulthood requires support systems.
The actionable move is small and brave, and it's asking for low-stakes help.
A quote I come back to is: “You can be independent and still be held.”
Final thoughts
If any of these felt uncomfortably familiar, take a breath.
Realizing your “normal” wasn’t universal can stir up weird emotions: Grief, embarrassment, anger, pride, confusion, and sometimes all at once.
Here’s what I want you to keep: Your background gave you skills, even if it also gave you stress.
Now the work, the good work, is to keep the strengths and release the survival habits that don’t serve you anymore.
Let me ask you a question: Which of these is still running your life today, even though you don’t need it to?
