Stefan Molyneux:
Welcome aboard -- great to have you with us! 
Would you like to talk about those aspects of your personal history that trouble you?
Yeah, I had a lot of troubles with my parents and school. I always hated school even since preschool. I guess a good illustration of this is that when I went to preschool I didn't talk to anyone, ever, despite being able to talk as well as any other four year old. My parents actually hired a child psychologist because the teachers were worried about it. Apparently they didn't know what to make of it; when they observed me playing with the kids my age next door I was like a normal child: running around, talking, playing, laughing and all. But when I went to school I became silent and withdrawn, literally afraid to say a single word to any of the children there. I remember one kid asking "can you talk?" and I mumbled back "yeah."
I'm especially curious if you've heard of this type of thing before? Most kid's souls don't seem to be crushed by school quite that quickly at that young of an age. I've always kind of wondered why I was like this.
Anyways, I always enjoyed learning and reading but hated going to school. For some reason I liked fourth grade but nothing before or after. The shyness thing never quite went away and became worse for some reason in high school. In HS it was almost as bad as preschool; people would make jokes (usually in a sort of friendly way) about me never saying more than three words per hour and stuff like that. For some
Most of the fights I had with my mom were around my poor performance in school or not doing my fair share of chores. There wasn't really any physical abuse, a small spanking or so when I was really young, but plenty of yelling and unpleasantness. At some of the worst points, like when I almost got held back a year in middle school I remember my mom occasionally going out of town and being so delighted that I would get a few days away from her.
My dad wasn't nearly as bad. He always lived with us and was there but when my mom was screaming "go to hell!" at the top of her lungs he either just sat there quietly, sometimes told her she should calm down a bit, or went into a different room and distracted himself with something. He was always a bit withdrawn-- often depressed, probably because he hated his job and was pretty submissive to my mom who kind of dominated him. He was often on antidepressants or reading self help books, occasionally in therapy etc.