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childhood

From a young age, I was aware that there were some of us who had long, lean, desirable limbs, and some of us who did not.
When you're a child of immigrants, food fuels your ties to family and culture.
Spending time in nature will help them overcome difficulties and make their lives immeasurably better.
Ontario has over 18,000 children living in care, the highest number of any province in Canada. These kids have experienced abuse, neglect and abandonment and are trying to overcome past trauma in order to heal, thrive and go on to lead happy and healthy lives.
Kids should actually want to go to school.
Whether they're your kids or your grandkids, who can resist cuddling up with a great story and delicious snacks with your favourite little person? It's the perfect opportunity to step away from electronics and dig in to some old-fashioned story time and some homemade goodness.
In 2016, as our children watched, bullying became legitimate. What we accept without dissent, what we allow to be framed as normal, alters according to our level of desensitization. We have become increasingly desensitized to bullying behaviour.
No child deserves to be hit. There are things that children do that anger parents, or that put the child or others at risk, or are socially unacceptable, but there is never a reason to hit another human being to discipline or teach. What does this mean, in plain language? It means parents should not be allowed to hit or spank their children.
What I have come to know is that we feverishly cling to our childhood items for a host of personal, often inexplicable, reasons. Perhaps as the precarious nature of life and death teeters, totters and tiptoes around us, we instinctively pull them closer to us.
Guilt and regret are the ugly Hyde to the Jekyll of sobriety, even years in. With new awareness, we relive past experiences---or in many cases bemoan what might have been. Pain and sorrow previously numbed by a drug or drink of choice is glaringly present, and strikes unpredictably---in the midst of a family gathering; alone, late at night; smack in the middle of an important work presentation, or during a particularly deep yoga class.
As I watched you with your sweet babies, realizing how difficult this stage of life is for mamas like you, I felt a twinge of sadness come over me. Your children are still at that stage of life where they want YOU and you alone. You have the monopoly on their attention and love.
The sad reality, however, is that millions of children around the world are deprived of play due to war or natural disaster. On World Play Day, we want you to meet ten children who may have been left with little, but still have the courage to keep playing.
If there's one thing we've all been taught, is that the tenacious little guy can muster up the wherewithal to defeat a much larger opponent. I came across this scenario at a young age. When I was ten, my dad enrolled me in a judo tournament. Admittedly, this particular Eastern discipline commands as much respect as Jazzercise. But back in 1982, it was easily a solid 6 per cent cooler.
As a recovering alcoholic and drug addict, feelings of remorse exist frequently in the wake of nostalgia. I'm told that, with time, nostalgia and remorse will undergo a kind of mitosis, and begin to occupy different spaces in my consciousness. Until then, they are forced to coexist, making Memory Lane feel more like an unlit back alley.
These are lessons that every child needs to learn, and entrepreneurs are more than qualified to teach them. These teachings are powerful and make a genuine impact, and they're lessons that I strive to pass on to my two sons as they continue to explore the world they live in.
Every person who's walked through my office door suffering from depression, anxiety, relationship or work problems, low self-esteem or addiction has a history of some type of adversity in their childhood. It's become clear to me by listening to their stories that were it not for these painful events, the person wouldn't be struggling as much as they are, today.
You wonder if it will ever get better. Wonder, too, if there really is a light at the end of the tunnel. Wonder incessantly if you will ever have energy again. All while you also wonder if you ever will see a semblance of your former self again. I hear you, friend, and I truly feel for you. I remember those days.
After what feels like a lifetime of battling drug and alcohol addiction, and my own tenuous mental health issues, three years ago -- at the age of 47 -- I finally found the strength to tell my wife and adult son that I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. Like too many other survivors of childhood sexual violence who decide to go public with their disclosure, I have lost contact with my mother and my siblings as a result. If you really want to know how to destroy an already fragile soul, take away the one thing that a survivor of sexual violence needs most -- connection, which equates as validation and worthiness.