As a kid and teenager, I knew my childhood for what it was, nothing out of the ordinary.
But, when I grew up, I started learning the truth.
The truth was that everything I knew about my childhood was not real.
Everything that was really going on in my family's life was actually hidden from me to the point where I had no idea about any of it.
Even when, as a kid, I would see things I probably was not supposed to see, I didn't really think much of it.
Now though, I understand what those situations really were.
Now I understand the truth. It did take some time, but eventually, I learned what was really going on.
So to answer this question: my childhood memories.
They felt real, the life felt real, but when I was told about everything that was actually happening, things started falling into place.
I started understanding certain situations and things I saw that I didn't understand or think much of last the time, and then I realized that everything I knew about my family as a child was just not the truth, it was a story told to protect a little kid.
