Child Abuse Story From Kimberly Part 4

by Kimberly
(Location Undisclosed)

As I continue to think about things, I realize that at this point, I am struggling with everything that's happened and the effects. And I have no friends to talk to that would listen. So I decided I would write here as an addition to my story.

Basically, the abuse has done much more than I have ever realized. I look back at times that were really kind of scary.

I remember talking to my best friend on the phone shortly after the physical abuse had ended. I told her that if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have survived up to that point and would have probably taken my own life. At the moment, that was what I felt and that best friend was my "rock" through most of the physical abuse. She flipped out and told her counselor, who told my counselor at school. I was in 7th grade. My parents got a phone call that I was suicidal. I lied to them and made up reasons for why I felt that way, though it was from the abuse I suffered. I never talked to a school counselor about anything personal again. I still don't. I'm so afraid that I'll say something and my parents will be called and I'll get in deep trouble.

Then, just this past year, because of the pain I was suffering from my past, and the emotional abuse and a few other things that were going on, I slipped into depression over the summer. During this time, even though my world was almost falling apart, I was held together by the two adults who stuck by me and did their best to lift me up. They were the closest thing I had to parents. And on a Saturday night, the pain was too much for me. I put a post on Facebook saying that I wanted to die, because I could no longer handle the pain. Both adults saw that and called the police. They showed up at my house. It was a terrible night. My parents being blind-sighted made it all that much worse. That day, when I was gone at church, my parents went through my email and read some of the conversations I had saved. They then mocked me about the abuse, saying that it didn't exist and it was all fair discipline. I never believed that. They also told me it was their job as parents to point out all of my faults, though they never did this to my brother. I was considered the bad child, and still have that label.

My parents refuse to accept that what they did was wrong. And at this point, I don't know if I can ever forgive them or trust them.

And because of the issues I have with my family, it almost always seems to spread to everyone that's close to me.

I continuously find myself trying to do what others want me to do, to fit in with them so I won't have the continuous feeling of loneliness that has become almost my best friend. I do my best to please, and beat up on myself, physically and mentally when I can't. And because I'm trying to be what they want me to, I find myself fake and unreal and don't know how to discover who my real self is. I don't even feel like real friends even exist anymore. They all deserted me when I went through depression. And I'm so frustrated that my parents' distorted thinking caused all of this. This pain, this struggle that I continuously go through.

And just recently, I've had an adult come tell me that I needed therapy to help me. And has offered to find information for me. But even though I'm interested, I'm not sure I can tell a therapist what I've gone through and what I continue going through for the fear that she may have to report it. And I really don't know what to do. I can't trust. I can't seem to do anything right.

I'm struggling so bad right now with everything that has happened through my dark life. I know I don't have it the worst, but I look at other people in my life and wonder why I can't be happy. I have no true friends anymore. I have no one to trust or to talk to that won't judge me. And I don't know what to do.

And every time I get into this state, somehow suicide always creeps into my head. And I think about when I will die and how I will die and if living this life is even worth it. I think about how it would affect others. I've had very weak, stupid attempts to commit suicide like poisoning myself but it's never worked out.

People tell me all these positive things about me. And I just don't see what they see. I can't accept compliments and don't understand why people see me as smart or beautiful or anything like that. I know my weaknesses very well but when I try to think about strengths, I come up with none. I don't know who I am. I don't know how to break walls down.

I feel psychotic writing this. I don't understand how people stand me and I probably never will.

Thanks for continuing to listen to me.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

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Child Abuse Story From Nicole1

by Nicole
(USA)

My brother molested me: 
I'm 18 years old now but when I was like 8 or 9 my brother molested me. And when I was in my grandma's swimming pool my brother touch my butt and my privates. And the other time it happened was in his room when he was playing a game. I sat on his lap and then he was touching my leg and went on touching my privates again. And then when I was 10 years old he video cammed me nude, and I still have nightmares about it, but now I'm in counselling and I'm doing good now 'cause it's helping me out.

That's my story. Thanks for listening everyone.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Tiffany

by Tiffany
(Location Undisclosed)

I am 21 years old now. I have 5 siblings. I am the second to oldest and have 2 younger sisters. Until recently I thought the sexual abuse only began when I was 11 years old but now people are telling me that the "fun and games" my older brother initiated when I was young was also sexual abuse. Starting when I was 7 years old, my older brother would ask all of us to get undressed (my twin brother and my younger sister who was 5 then). He would then touch us in our private parts. We would touch rear ends and he would also touch his penis to our vaginas. He and my twin brother would also "play together." We did this quite often. I knew it was uncomfortable at the time but it was fun too...?

When I was in 6th grade my youngest sister was born. A lot of his sexual abuse got worse around the time my mother was pregnant with her. I remember when I was just starting to develop breasts. We were all playing the backyard with the hose when he sprayed all the water directly at my chest. My t-shirt clung to me and he made fun of how I was starting to develop breasts. He then made me promise that when I turned 18 I would expose my breasts to him. Over the next year he continued to tease me about developing and asked me a number of times to promise that I would expose myself. He had lots of clever ways for touching my breasts right in front of my parents without them noticing. Like when he would reach from behind me to get something from the table and touch me on the way. I sat across from him at the dinner table and he would put his toes up on my chair wiggling between my legs.

He also would try to open our room when we were getting dressed, trying to see us naked. A few times he succeeded. He would take my bra and underwear and use them to arouse himself and masturbate. I was obsessed with having the door completely closed and locked before going to bed. To this day I do not know why.

My, at the time, baby sister was sexually harassed the most. As a baby he would pinch her nipples, suck on her nipples, massage her between the legs, and stick his hands through her diaper and try to stick his finger up her - this happened all the time, and in front of me and sometimes my other sister. When she started to crawl she would try to get away - hiding behind the sofa - he would trap her there and continue to do his stuff (or he chased her there). I wish I would have said more to stop it but whenever I said anything he would just laugh or give me a mean look. He would also often pull down his pants in front of me, then he would masturbate himself until he got an erection. I remember once he pulled down his pants and aroused himself then he took my little sister and placed her right on top of his penis. Another time he exposed himself lying down, then he moved my sister back and forth over his himself. I think he did this type of stuff in front of me on purpose because the more scared I got the more he laughed. His harassment wasn't just sexual - he would often put her on top of the refrigerator. She would scream and cry. I was always a very scrawny, short kid (he was twice my size) so I couldn't get her down, but he didn't care. Sometimes he would put her in the garbage can for a couple of minutes or hold her over the washing machine before he put her down.

One day I was in my room. Only my brother and little sister were home. All of a sudden I heard shrieking screams. I ran. There was my brother holding her over a 2nd floor railing that overlooks our living room, and laughing away, sneering at me. I told him to stop and put her down but he wouldn't listen. I thought for sure he would drop her (to the first floor) but I just stood there dumbly.

At the end of 8th grade, I came down with chronic fatigue syndrome. I didn't go to school for 2 years. I was home alone all the time with my brother and baby sister (my mother would go shopping and he would stay home). I became hyper about making sure I knew where she was all the time. I wasn't always successful. And I still couldn't stop him from doing what he did with her out in the open.

In 11th grade, he got reported and was taken out of the house. In 11th grade, I returned to school. I went into therapy. In therapy I always insisted that it really wasn't a big deal and that nothing really happened. In therapy, I realized that I was also verbally abused by my mother. I knew I was terrified of my mother and her wrath but I thought all parents did that.

I remember the time I had been home with my brother and sister and something really bad happened of which I have no memory. My mother came home and saw my little sister all spaced out and looking terrified. She screamed at me to tell her what happened - I just stared at her numb - now I realize that I wasn't all there, I was all shaken up myself but back then I just didn't think. She just kept screaming louder, "Why can't you talk" and then to my sister, "Why can't your sister say something"...until finally she slapped me across the face and I just started sobbing. That was the only time she hit me but her screaming and rage were very common.

I worked a lot in therapy about my terror of my mother. I have so many stories of her terrorizing me and I would just go into la-la land where I didn't quite hear her or know what was going on. She would then scream at me that I need a lot of psychological help for not being able to speak to her. I couldn't possibly include even a fraction of her verbal attacks here. Or of her expectations for me to run the house (I feel more like a servant than a daughter).

I am still very scared of her but I have come a long way and sometimes I even "talk back". At first, she screamed at me that I was taking her stuff way too personally or even that she was right to yell at me after all that I did.

I am shaking just thinking about putting my story out on this website. I am so confused because I have been reading some of these stories and mine is not nearly as bad. I guess I'm beginning to see how I was hurt but still feel numb and confused, to realize that I was hurt but still feel really numb and confused about the whole thing.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Bailee

by Bailee
(Philadelphia, USA)

Presently Being Abused By My Father: 
He screams at me for random things and when I don't understand he calls me stupid. I cry and cry in front of him and he never cares. I am only 12 and he expects unrealistic things of me. He quotes: "I have enough things in my life right now, I don't need you!" It hurts so much! I feel I don't want to live anymore. The only thing keeping me alive is my mom. I love her so much. If I didn't have her I don't think I'd be able not to kill myself. Or if my dad makes a mistake as thinking I did something and I didn't, when I prove him wrong he just doesn't care. I get no apology for being hurt. Or, if I do forget one little thing he threatens to take everything I have. I called my mom once and was crying into the phone. My dad was listening on the other line and I got almost everything I have taken for months. It's terrible! I want to report it but I'm scared.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Skylar

by Skylar
(Dallas, Texas, USA)

I do not wish to use my real name. Just the thought of some of the people that scarred me even 41 years later makes me shaky.

When I was young my parents had some sort of break up, and I ended up living with my dad's girlfriend's mom, after being picked up from an orphanage where I had been molested and beat up by an older girl. I was only 5 and had no clue what was going on.

I would have been better off left to be raised by a pack of wolves; at least they take care of their young.

I remember being with them for my first few days. It was like a compound: 8 kids and 2 female adults. The teenagers were left to watch me and my sister whenever the adults were gone all day.

I was forced to drink urine, eat sandwiches with ashes. I was stripped naked in front of groups of teenagers. All of this was so scary to me. The oldest smoked pot and cigarettes, and thought it was funny to watch me smoke.

One of the adults had an ex husband that broke in every other day, with a gun shooting at us, or swinging a bat. I remember holding my sister's hand and hiding under the bed so many times.

I got made fun of every time I brushed my teeth, saying I was trying to be beautiful when I could not be.

I got smacked in front of the kids at school. I got hit in the face with a hard brush every day. I got beat with wire hangers and extension cords on a daily basis.

I was forced to work carrying papers at 3 in the morning, at 3 in the afternoon, and then went to collect the money often until 10 at night. I was so tired sometimes, and too embarrassed to be around people at school. I was even out of school for 1/2 days to collect money sometimes.

As we grew older we also had to clean the house daily. So my life was about work and that is it.

The older children were allowed to abuse us in any way they wanted without reprimand. I was sexually abused by one of the boys and their friends until the day I left that house. I was beat up in the back yard, more than once. I had boiling liquid thrown on me, among other things. One would get a new gift, and dangle it in front of us.

If any of the kids broke anything, dirtied anything, or did anything wrong, me and my sister got the beating of our life for it. Eventually I would just say I did it just to keep her from getting hit.

All the "good" food was for the children that belonged to them. If I wanted to eat I would sneak in the bathroom, but if one of the boys figured it out, they would tell I was in there, and I would get beat up for eating. I swear to this day that is why I cannot turn down food.

I never got but one new outfit in 3rd grade. I got ran over by a car and it got tore up; lordie, I cried all day.

The oldest son tried one last time to rape me, and said that my mom did it with him why wouldn't I. No one understood why I fought with him so much. Everyone thought he was such a nice guy, especially his friends.

One good thing happened. The oldest son got married and his wife moved in. Things really changed from that day forward. We were told to watch her 3 kids. They did not behave in anyway when I watched them, and we got beat for whatever they did while the adults were gone. The wife never knew most of the time, because she worked a lot. But when she was home, I never got mistreated, and she will never know how much joy she brought me just by being there in the house. They just knew they could not behave in such a manner around someone else. She was the first person to ever treat me like a human in my life. She helped me fix my hair, and did some make up for me. She even got me interested in reading, and listening to music. I remember she used to dance in the house. I thought she was the most beautiful person I ever met in my life. Just writing this is making me cry. I suppose I should find her and tell her someday.

I do remember asking for a backgammon game, and the oldest boy and his wife got one instead. I later found out it had been bought for me and sent to me by my mom. She asked me if I got it that year.

I got a book from the library about dancing and was practicing in the bedroom one day, when one of the females walked in and told me I could never be anything because I was half Mexican. I believed her, and never looked at the book again.

I did get away for a little while, but ended up back there because I stole something from a store. So I was back to living with crazy people.

I thought every guy that ever paid me any attention was the love of my life. I had 6 kids I could not care for, and the adult that had mistreated me all those years went to court to testify I was not a good mom, more than once helped to get my kids away from me, and testified against my own mother who was trying to help me.

I am to this day mentally shaky, and just try to make it the best I can.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Skylar" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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Child Abuse Story From Heather1

by Heather
(USA)

Broken-Hearted Again: 
I was emotionally abused rather than physically. I am 13 almost 14, and the main thing I can remember as a child is being alone.

My mom ran a home daycare. (No, she did not and does not abuse me). I had one friend that I love to this day. He was the only thing that made me happy.

I have 2 brothers who are grown and out of the house, but still to this day I love my big bubu. I have called him this since I was little, and he is the ONLY male I trust.

My father never paid any mind to me. He always made me feel like he hated me, and now I know for a fact he does. He has really screwed me up.

Then when I was 6 I was mentally and emotionally mature for my age like I always have been and might always be. My mother did the thing that crushed me. She got remarried to this a-hole. He has a son that is 1 year younger than me. He put up a wall and made it clear: it's your daughter, my son. I do nothing for her, you do nothing for him. And then there were days when he just "loved" me. And picture this...you're 6 and you are told something and then the creator of that breaks his own rule. I was even more confused than I had been. And I grew up like this. Him telling me he hates me and that I should go and die somewhere, to oh I love you sweetheart.

In November of 2007 I started cutting. Not with a knife, but with a very dull and rigid house key. But the worse part was that I did it to feel pain. There wasn't any. My whole arm was numb. And I tried to give up on that, but I do that to this day. My legs are all scarred up to my arms. My mom took me to the doctor, but I don't trust her.

I don't trust anyone anymore, except my 'sister' (best friend) and my big bubu, Nathan. It really sucks when you can only feel mental and emotional pain. I feel one day it might swallow me up.

And the worst part is...the whole thing has changed my looks a lot. My eyes seem dead. My skin went from a nice tan to a weird pale cream color.

This is just too much for one kid to handle. My bubu got over it and I wish I could. But that's kinda hard when I won't come out of my room and all I can do is hate life and wish to die.

Now I fear all men. At my old school in Alabama our principal was a man. I was sent to his office for fighting. The whole time I was in there I kept looking at the ground gripping my seat and was ready to deck him.

Now here in Oklahoma my principal is again a GUY and I was trying to tell him something but could barely speak to him because of my fear of men.

My friend thinks my dad or even one of my bros might have sexually abused me when I was younger, and if so, I have no memory of it.

Well, I love you all and hope you have a great day and or life. God bless.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Bells

by Isabella
(New Zealand)

I was about 7 or 8 when my uncle started touching me. He would find a way to get me alone whenever we visited him.

I've always been a very happy girl and my parents are supportive in everything I do. I can tell them anything but there are few things that I can't tell them.

One time, we were visiting my uncle and my brother and I had to stay the night because our parents were going somewhere. I slept on the couch in the lounge. My uncle went out and came home again at about 2am. I was hoping that he wouldn't come and touch me again but he did. He lay next to me and told me to be quiet and not to say a word. His hands moved to my breasts and I tried to push him away. He got angry and held my arms with one hand and the other went between my legs. I whispered and told him to stop with tears running down my face. He told me to shut up and he bent my fingers back and broke 2 of my fingers. He had his c**k in my mouth so that I couldn't scream much. He slapped me across the face and left me there crying.

I am 14 now and live an almost normal life. The abuse stopped as I am not allowed to see him anymore because he is addicted to weed and all he does is talk bs now.

Even after the abuse stopped, my life was still hell. My best friend died and I got really depressed about that. Then I got raped by a 22 year old... I can't tell anybody about that either.

I act happy in front of my parents everyday so that they don't see my real feelings. I went to a school councillor one day when I was feeling really depressed. I told them that I get depressed and I tried to commit suicide once. I decided not to end life because there was too much to live for. I left, not feeling any better and when I got home my mom sat me down and asked me if I was depressed. The coucillor had called her after I left. My mom forced me to tell her what was wrong so I told her I was depressed because I got bullied (which isn't completely a lie but it doesn't compare to the s**t I've been through).

I still haven't told my parents about the abuse and rape but I have a supporting boyfriend and he knows what happened and he makes me feel happy. He makes me forget what happened and for that I am thankful. I know people have been through a lot worse and I just want to say stay strong, find something that makes you happy (maybe a hobby, sport or anything to keep you busy). It really helps the healing when you do something instead of being alone and not doing anything at all. =]

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Child Abuse Story From Larry

by Larry
(USA)

I am now 35 years old. I was abused by my foster mother (who later became my adoptive mother) from age 7 when I moved into her home to age 16, when I ran away from home. What she did to me forever shaped who I am today. What she did to me was force me to be the girl she always wanted. The only problem with that was that I wasn't female. I was a boy.

I guess you could say I fell into all the categories of abuse at the hands of the woman who made me call her Mommy. Emotional, physical, neglect and sexual. She made it clear practically from day one she despised males and never wanted a boy in her home. I learned quickly that resisting her meant what she called spankings, but were in fact brutal beatings. Going along with her sick and twisted ideas meant I could eat regular food, sleep in a comfortable bed and be "loved" by her. Not going along meant eating nothing some days or week-old leftovers others. I had two bedrooms as a child. One was a very large, very feminine bedroom, a suite any little girl would have loved. The other was in the basement of our home, and was an old Army cot, nothing more. And the only time she ever showed affection to me was when I ceded to her wishes for a daughter.

What began as me simply wearing dresses or skirts at home for her changed when we moved, when I was ten. She made a show of throwing all of my male clothes away, bringing along only the female side of my wardrobe. In the new town, I was all girl, all the time. At home, out shopping, and yes, even at school. She had me under the belief that if I didn't just be a girl, she'd make me go away. That, to me, was a valid threat to use. I'd been in 15 foster homes from age 4 to age 7, following the death of my father and the incarceration of my mother. This woman, my "Mommy", had taken me in, she reminded me nearly every day, and provided for me a comfortable home and a loving mother. Was it really so much to ask, she would demand, that I give her what she needed? That being a good little girl to love.

So I went along with her, even telling the therapist my new school insisted I see when I showed up for my first day in a skirt and blouse that it was I who wanted to be a girl. I never told anyone it was "Mommy's" idea, out of the fear and terror I felt at her threat of abandonment. I must have been convincing enough to the therapist. Child Services were never called, and after a few months, the kids in my school sort of just stopped teasing me. Most left me alone all together, but a few accepted me as the girl I appeared to be.

"Mommy" started me on what she called vitamins when I was 12. At least, I assumed they were vitamins. In fact, they were hormone replacement pills, and they, as you can imagine, did their job well. I began to take on the feminine shape of a teenage girl. My hips rounded and my breasts swelled.

The defining moment of my youth, however, came the night of my "Sweet Sixteen" birthday. I'd been living as a female full time for just about six years to that point, and "Mommy" threw me a small party. I invited several of my girlfriends over for cake and presents and music and dancing, but "Mommy" invited one other person, without my knowledge. She had hired a man, you see, a man who came over after my friends had left for the evening. I will not go into details of that night, but I can assure you it was the most painful and degrading night of my entire life. "Mommy" just told me to accept it, that she was helping me further in becoming a woman.

I'd had it. The next day, I skipped school, packed a small bag and took off. I went to my best friend's house and told her mother the truth. The truth of what "Mommy" had done to me, how I'd been forced to become a girl, and then told her about my special birthday "present" the night before. My friend's mother was appalled. Sickened, actually. She nearly vomited, in fact. She called the local police department for me, and after again telling them my story, "Mommy" was arrested at her job. They never did find the man who raped me, however.

With my admission of abuse, the HRT was stopped at once, and I was placed with a foster home in another new town. They were great people who loved me for whoever it was I wanted to be. There were days I wanted to be a girl, since I'd been one for so long, and I had been "loved" as one for so long, I thought it was the only way to be loved. And there were days I wanted to be the most macho boy in the world. Mom and Dad, which is what I still call them to this day, never once tried to stop me. They accepted both Leah and Larry, my two halves. Mom hired a tutor for me, so I was spared the ordeal of starting another new school, and I completed my high school education at home.

I am now married to a wonderful woman who knows I have two sides still. While my body is that of a man, I have the soul of a split person. She lovingly accepts both halves of me. I am also the father of a little girl who is now 5 years old and there couldn't be a more loved little girl in the world.

It has taken me years of therapy to overcome what was done to me, and I will readily admit to all that there are days I am not fully over it. I doubt that will ever happen, to be honest. Ten years of systematic destruction of my maleness, I don't think, can be fully undone. But I live my life to the best of my abilities, which is all I can do. Thank you, Darlene, for allowing me to share my story. God bless.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

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Child Abuse Story From Bella

by Isabella S.
(Detroit, Michigan, USA)

Please Speak Up: 
I'm 13. I need you to hear me out. I was about 11 when my mom went to clubs and left me with her friend Anna. I was very used to her so I would sometimes spend the night when my mom left to party. My mom and stepdad that I loved very much were in a fight so she left me with Anna to party as I said. I was with my brother and with Anna's 2 little girls. She had her brother there and her husband. That night her brother had a fight with his girlfriend and drank too much. I fell asleep with my brother and the 2 little girls on the floor. Anna's brother was asleep by me. How he got there I had no clue so I fell back to sleep because sometimes he sleeps by the 2 girls. I woke up because he had my hand and all I heard him say was "touch it." I felt my hand on his penis.

I pulled my hand away and went back to sleep, scared. Then I woke up again. He was on top of me, holding my legs up but my pants were still on, humping me. I kicked him and jumped up. He went to turn on the lights and said, "Go back to sleep." I yelled, "No, I'm telling on you." I ran upstairs, waking Anna up. I told her that her brother (I forgot his name) was humping me. She woke up her husband and went for her girls and my brother. She called my mom. She was at home hung over. My mom had someone drop her off and then that person left.

Anna asked where did I learn the word hump. I told her I didn't know. I really didn't know. Then Anna told me that it was my fault that my mom missed her ride to take us home. I was so mad at myself. We were about to go when my mom saw Anna's brother watching TV, WATCHING TV. She said if he ever went after me she and her friends will kill him. After that she was crying. She had to find her van and when she did she did not have the keys to it. She had to break in her friend's house to get the keys. I was mad at myself. Then she went to drop us at our stepdad's house and then she left. I told my stepdad what happened. Then my mom came screaming in Spanish at my dad that she was going to kill herself. I was mad at myself for letting this happen.

I called my grandparents and told them what happened. Then they came quick. I was pulled away from my mom and forced to go in the van that my grandparents were in. I saw my mom break her ankle running for her van to get me. Then she was in the hospital. I was so mad at myself.

I moved with my grandparents even though I didn't want to. After a year I wanted my mom back so I moved with her and my stepdad.

I still feel like it is my fault for what happened. I have nightmares and cry at night. I still feel so mad at myself. My name is Bella and I am happy and sometimes sad for who I am.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Nikki4

by Nikki
(Michigan, USA)

Really confused: 
Ok, so this may sound weird but I'm kind of confused about my childhood. One incident that I remember hazily happened with my older cousin who is about six years older than me. And when I was about five or six I remember something really weird that happened. Him and I were in the house alone 'cause everyone was outside. I think my dad and my uncle were building or fixing something, but anyway, he told me to come with him to my mom's bedroom. So when we got in there he told me he was going to teach me how to kiss like big girls do. He got me to stand in the closet with him and I really didn't move. I let him hold both sides of my head and lift me toward him so he could give me what, I didn't know at the time, was a French kiss. It seemed like it lasted a really long time. And after that my memory goes black.

I've always had a funny feeling that something more happened than I remember. I'm not trying to make more out of something than what it actually is but I'm just really messed up. I can't help but feel like it wouldn't have affected me as much as it has unless there was something more to it.

Now I'm constantly getting into sexually abusive relationships. I've since been nearly raped, and have nightmares about being hurt over and over again. I know I was sexual at a young age and felt sexual stimulation a lot sooner than I should have, like around six or seven, and I don't understand it. Like I said, I don't want to make a big deal out of it, no one else did. My mom said it was just innocent play, and maybe that is what it was but I don't really know. Thanks for reading and God bless all the survivors and victims.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Heather3

by Heather
(Location Undisclosed)

I have lived in two hells. The first one was from the time I was born to time I turned four. I can't remember everything clearly, it's more like snap shots of my life. I remember someone touching me and making me do things to him. I remember it was my stepfather who would make me take off my panties and perform oral sex on him.

When I stumbled upon some old adoption records a few years ago I discovered that at one point, when I was not even one, I was sent to the emergency room by a woman who was babysitting me. The doctor looked me over and told my mother that I had genital warts, which comes from having sex. He therefore told my mother that I had most likely been sexually molested by someone close to the family.

My mother took me out of the hospital and went to her boyfriend, the one who liked the oral sex. At first this confused me. Why would she take her baby back to a monster? And then it hit me. She probably didn't know it was him. I had always been really uncomfortable around my grandfather. Now I can't really say for sure, but I think that he probably had something to do with it. After some serious and dangerous fights, Social Services came and I found myself in a new home.

In this home, I entered into my second hell. My mother, adopted one, was a very violent and emotional woman. She would get angry and scream for hours, saying how worthless I was and how I was a fat bitch. One time she got mad at me and threw me across the room. My foot went through the vent.

Another time I didn't do one of my chores and she started hitting me over the head with a large metal spoon over and over again. When I finished my chore I was still crying and she asked me why, trying to make a joke out of my head hurting. When I couldn't answer her she got mad and said "I'll give you something to cry about!" You know that scene in the movie Mommy Dearest, where she's in the bathroom screaming about it not being clean and getting so angry over the wire hangers? I can't watch that because it's exactly how my mother acts. My father isn't that much better. Usually he just ignores me, but if he gets mad he explodes.

I remember this one morning I woke up and went into my sister's room to borrow something to wear for school. I turned on her light when I went in there and she woke up. As I was leaving I was about to switch off the light but she told me to leave it on because she was getting up and getting dressed too. When I left her room my father called out to me. He had his door open and all you could see was the lighted cigarette. He told me to turn off the light. I told him that Holly was up getting dressed and that she needed the light. He said fine, but it didn't sound like he was angry or anything. Feeling a little unsure of my footing, I went back into my sister's room and told her that Dad wanted the light off. We both went downstairs and we were watching TV while I did some laundry when my father storms downstairs, goes over to his chair, flips it over yelling, "Where is It?" He then proceeds to drag my brother out of bed, asking where's the paddle? Now the paddle isn't just an ordinary paddle. It's about half an inch thick and made of a really hard type of wood. My dad got it at a novelty store. It wasn't really supposed to be used as a punishment device, more like funny wall art, but that's exactly how my father used it. He finally found it in his office chair and came back downstairs. My mother and brother followed him to see what was wrong. He started yelling at me and then started whipping me with the paddle shouting, "I'll show you who runs this house!" I didn't even know what that meant. He started yelling at my brother and sister that they needed to get their chores done before he got home that day and I tried to explain what happened to my mom but she just slapped me and told me it was all my fault, that I should have just left the light off because my sister and I could get dressed in the dark, it was about five in the morning when we got up, and that we didn't need the light. I was standing there shaking and crying and didn't know what to do, and then my mom tells me that I better get dressed because if I miss the bus she'll take that paddle to me herself.

I went to school that day and just collapsed in tears with two of my best friends, and though I couldn't tell them what had happened, it helped just to be held. I can't remember a time when either of my parents just held me and let me cry on their shoulders. You know, the physical abuse I can handle, but the emotional and mental abuse is what has taken away part of my soul.

I know that my experience isn't bad compared to others, and at times I did deserve to be punished for my actions, but it still hurts to remember all the things that have happened. I don't know if I'll ever recover and I don't know if I can forgive. I don't know if I should forgive.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Jennifer3 Part 2

by Jennifer
(Gaffney, South Carolina, USA)

I'm pretty sure some of you have read Child abuse story from Jennifer3 on this site. I am now 17. I'll be 18 in June. I am still scared of my father for what he did to me and my mom that night. I still hide in my closet when he yells at my mom. Ever since that night I've been trying to put the pieces of my life back together. I'm currently going through counseling and saving up money to help pay for an apartment or a house. I am also going to college during the fall for culinary arts. My dad still scares me a lot and he still calls me names (even around my boyfriend and my friends) but I have learned to ignore him sometimes, but most of the time I can't. My boyfriend is wanting so bad for me to move away from my dad right now but I can't 'cause I have no place to go but to a shelter. My boyfriend doesn't want me to go to a shelter so he's been begging his mom to let me move in with them. So far the pieces of my life are coming together. I can't wait to start my own life. I just want everyone who's ever been treated like that to know there is hope. Don't give up. There is a god.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Lynn

by Lynn
(Location Undisclosed)

I have never had the guts to tell anybody this and I don't know if it actually affected my life as it is now, but I feel that it does in some odd way.

When I was younger my dad was always working. He's a singer and was always away on tour or singing at random places throughout the country. When my dad came back from the tours, my mom and him would want to go out and have fun, so they would have the next door neighbor boy watch me. He also babysat our other next door neighbor's son.

He was 16 or so and I was about 6 or 8...somewhere in there. I don't remember everything or if he molested me in any other way than what the one memory I have.

I remember going over to the pool that we had. There was this deck connected to it. He took me under the deck and told me that if he showed me his I'd have to show him mine. So he proceeded in pulling down his pants, and I pulled down mine...he tried and tried to stick his head between my legs, doing whatever he could, but I wouldn't let him. I think I thought he was just "playing with me", being funny. I didn't really understand what he was doing, but he eventually stopped. I don't know if he actually touched me, but I know for a fact that he molested the next door neighbor's son. That's when he was caught. The next door neighbor was a state highway patrol man, so of course he saw the signs.

When he did touch me though, I remember him telling me that "we were just playing, right? that's all that happened, so if your parents ask, we were just playing and having fun ok?" I didn't really understand what happened so of course I said "ok".

Around 12 years later, I finally told my husband about that incident, and he told me that I should tell my parents. But I just can't bring up the nerve to do it. The guy who did this to me and a little boy has been in and out of prison since he was 18, for molesting the little boy, for robbery, etc. We found out later that his father has been behind bars for most of his life for molesting him and his sister. Even though I blame him for what he did, I have been able to forgive him. I am studying psychology and plan on being a child psychologist, so I understand that he was also suffering. He chose to act out on his pent up anger in a horrible and revolting way, but I pray that god helps him.

I feel that I have moved on from this event, but I do have horrible anger issues, bipolar disorder and insomnia. I don't know if it is part of this event, but it is possible. Maybe I am repressing some other memory from that man, I don't know.

I wanted to share my story so that everyone sees that even the smallest, and maybe some may say "insignificant" event, can make a large and horrible impact on your life. If you remember anything or have any memory you are hiding, let someone know. You may be in your 30's or 40's, but if you remember anything that may have hurt you in your childhood, let someone know: your husband, your best friend, somebody. You would not believe the amount of built up stress will be relieved afterwards.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Kimberly Part 2

by Kimberly
(Location Undisclosed)

Pretty much, I was abused as a child. Both my parents did it because they thought it was a good way to punish us for things we supposedly had done wrong. This has impacted me psychologically. I am constantly haunted by memories of the abuse: particularly 2 instances.

One was on my 12th birthday. I was having a screaming fight with my friend, because I had not known better. My parents really liked my friend. So they both came up the stairs, my dad with his look on his face. I sat on my chair and screamed no at them when I saw them come up. My mom shuffled my friend out of the room and my dad proceeded to beat me. I sat in a chair and he screamed in my face and smacked me with what is known as the "stick". It's pretty much a gigantic paint stick. I was smacked multiple times on both shoulders and on the top of my knees. I was sitting down so that is all he could hit. I had deep welts on my knees and shoulders and it took about a month for them to heal completely. I remember the sight of them and how freaky they looked. I remember telling my friend about it and him telling me I should go see a doctor. It is one of the memories that constantly haunts me.

The other is when my brother and I were going to a friend's house to spend the night. All the doors were locked and I left with my brother. He decided to get something and run back inside. Apparently my dad came home a few minutes after we left and found everything unlocked and open. He was furious. I spent the night and came home the next day. My dad came home and I was standing in my room behind my dresser, next to my closet. It was the only thing that kept me from getting it worse. He screamed at me and lectured me while he whipped his thick leather belt at me. I was only hit on the inside of my legs right at the joint of my knee. I had welts of course. I remember going to see if my brother was alright and look at his welts. He had been hit straight across the middle of his leg. Both of these instances were during the summer time. I am now haunted by them and they refuse to leave.

Another instance that has harmed me is the time where my dad almost released me to foster care. My brother and I were supposed to clean our 3-storey house that day and goofed off and didn't get it done. My dad came home and I was standing at the top of the stairs watching him. He took off his belt and hit it against the rail of the stairs trying to give a so called warning. He told me and my brother, "Go pack your stuff. You're leaving." My brother and I then proceeded to pack up all our clothes that we had, crying, all the while knowing where we were going. Eventually I tried the last thing I could. I screamed that I was sorry to him. This one little thing worked. We had a family meeting and talked about a lot of things. This was shortly after the instance with the belt. It was the summer before 6th grade because I remember packing the trumpet that I hadn't learned to play yet.

All of these have left emotional scars on me that will probably never be erased. Because of the fact that my dad almost released my brother and I to foster care, I don't trust adults. I've learned that they'll do nothing but hurt me or get rid of me if I do something wrong. This is where a lot of the trusting issues I have going on come from.

During the time that I was being abused, something took place and my brother was hit. We'd been learning about abuse at the time in my 4th grade class. We had to answer a couple questions and the last question was if you wanted to talk to the teacher about abuse because you knew something was going on. I remember sitting in my class trying to decide what to put there. All my friends were telling me to put yes on the paper. I eventually gave in to the peer pressure but was never talked to unless I requested it. Finally I requested to talk to my teacher and she pulled me out of class. She grabbed the counselor and took me into her room. We sat, and there and I told them what had happened. I thought that they would do something if I told them. I was terribly wrong. They did nothing and I was abused for another few years, up until my 12th birthday. It has stopped for now, but my parents are very unpredictable in what they do. I don't know if they'll ever start it again. They've threatened plenty of times though. This also has created more trust issues. I had come to them in confidence that they would do something and in return, got nothing but had to deal with more pain. That's another reason why.

Mainly that is all the past stuff that I can think of that's haunted me.

Pretty much though because of that, many things have been done. I hate lectures now because every time I got lectured, I got hit and I was afraid. This is why I can't stand lectures. What I've learned to do is zone out and tell myself that I was going to be ok and that I could survive this.

Now on to situations that I've dealt with or that I'm dealing with that have affected me.

After the abuse ended in middle school, I dedicated my life to my family. I was not allowed to do anything other than band or a sport of some kind. I would go to school, come home, do chores, cook dinner, do homework and go to bed. I had no life. My mom at the time was getting worse and I had to be there for her. I was her support system for the longest time. Every problem she had was my problem. I had to listen to her whine and cry and be there for her if it happened. My feelings didn't matter and I got in trouble if I showed them. I had to listen to everything she said and do nothing but comfort her. That was my life. Nothing about me mattered. It was all about her and her issues. I suppressed my feelings for the longest time. Now, it's hard to identify them in the first place. I acted like they didn't matter for so long that I really am not sure what they are now. I'm developing that slowly but it's a difficult process. This is also where I learned to help others before myself. This is why I'm so good with dealing with others' emotions and problems instead of my own. I've learned full and well to put my emotions aside for others'.

Also my family, with all our health problems are big sports fans. My parents got my brother into sports at an early age and that's all he does now. He's super skinny and very athletic. My parents did nothing but put me in sports for the longest time, hoping that I would be as good as my brother. If I didn't play a good game in my sports, I wasn't good enough. I tried sport after sport and failed miserably. I went from soccer to softball to volleyball and failed at all of them. I was always the worst on the team and never did anything good. My parents didn't like it. My parents didn't like how "big" I was getting. They didn't like my weight at all because I wasn't like my skinny brother. I was always pushed to do extra things to lose weight. I've even been told to stop eating just so that I could lose enough weight to fit in with what they wanted me to be. It never worked. My parents frown in shame when they check my weight at the doctor and it's never good enough. I was doing sports up until I was diagnosed with JRA (Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis). I was trying my best to fit in with what they wanted me to be until I was in so much pain, I couldn't. Now my parents just shun me away like I don't matter. I'm not good enough to do sports or be what they want. They don't support me at all because they are so ashamed of what I've become. I'm not loved by them in any way shape or form. I've had to come to terms with the fact that I'll never be accepted by them and I'll never be good enough. I've had to come to terms with the fact that they don't love me for who I am. It's been one of the worst things I've done in my life.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Cynthia

by Cynthia
(Los Angeles, California, USA)

I don't remember much but what I do remember is very painful. I was a baby, only five years old, when a neighbor sexually abused me. His wife babysat me, and my mother let me spend the night at their house. That's when he climbed in bed with me. I tried to scream, but she told me to shut up. She knew what was going on and did nothing. She's just as guilty. I hope they both rot in hell. I was just a baby!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Cynthia" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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Child Abuse Story From Colleen

by Colleen
(Missouri, USA)

I was 4 years old when my mom married her 3rd husband. My life was not normal already. I had a drug addict for a father, and was moving around to different relatives' homes so me and my sister, who is 4 years older than me, had a roof over our heads.

Like all the other stories, I don't remember when it started, but remember the times that I was abused, which was almost every day. I hated being home during summer break. He worked nights and we spent all day with him till he went to work. I guess the stories that stand out the most are the worst ones. I remember having a bruise on my leg the size of a goose egg, because I was hit with a piece of wood several times. I was not able to sit for days. That was the first time my mom saw the bruises, and all she made him do was say he was sorry.

It didn't stop there.

My sister at the time was being sexually abused by him. He never hit her as hard as he did me. I can't explain why, but when something would go wrong, I was the one to receive the punishments. I was kicked several times, and if I fell I was kicked more until I got up. I watched as he held a rock to my sister and mom's head and told me if I went and got help he would kill them. I had battery cables placed on my hands, and was told to stand there with them on. If I took them off I had to stand there longer. The abuse went to the length of me not being able to eat for 4 days as a punishment.

Finally, after about 7 years, the abuse from him stopped. My sister was the one to speak up, but the abuse didn't stop there. When it went to trial he got probation for my sister, and received nothing on my case. So a slap on the wrist.

My mom married again and this man was an alcoholic. She was worried more about him and partying, than me and my sister. I was sexually abused and raped several times by his nephew.

I am 30 years old now and married to my high school sweetheart. We have been through a lot. Just last night I decided to sit him down and tell him some of the things that happen to me. I was so scared to let him in, 'cause I was always told it was my fault. He comes from a wonderful family, a family I always thought was not true. A loving family, a caring family. I was so scared he would think of me differently, but he didn't.

My abuse is so long and painful that every day I am still dealing with it, even with a loving and supportive husband.

If there is one thing that I have learned from the years of abuse is, you can stop the abuse. You stop it with you. NO matter who you seek help with, you don't have to be like them. You can and do make your own path in life. I never would have thought I would be with a man that I don't have to worry about hitting me or my children. I always thought that I would live my life in darkness.

This is the first for me, and by telling my story I hope it gives others the strength to tell someone. It is not your fault. You are not the cause of this, and no one deserves to be treated like that.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Adam

by Adam
(Currently United Kingdom)

From the time I was four my dad used the belt on me. My dad was a very angry man. He grew up in a violent home and didn't appreciate it one bit. But still felt the need to be violent toward me. He mainly used his belt. There was no strategy to how he punished me. I was made to remove my shirt (and sometimes pants) and he would whip away until satisfied (which sometimes wouldn't be until I was bleeding).

There were times he used things like nunchuks (he was a sensei) or bamboo rods, and even so far as a razor strap (barbers used these to sharpen razor blades).

He often smacked an punched me for very minor offenses, and these sometimes occurred in front of friends.

When I was 14 I was sexually abused by my dad's father. So I know why my dad has so many issues, but it shouldn't be an excuse for things he's done to me.

Beatings were always paired with phrases like:
"You are bad"
"You deserve more, you're lucky I went so easy on you"
"You're weak" (when I'd cry)

He always made me feel so stupid. And when you hear things so many times, you kind of start to believe it.

I'm 19 now and haven't lived with my parents for almost 8 years. But every time I visit, I have nightmares and always feel depressed.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Meghan

by Meghan
(Location Undisclosed)

My abuse was from my step dad. He was around as long as I can remember and seemed really nice. Looking back I guess it was always going on, it just got worse when I was 11. I am now 15.

He was always too nice to me, always saying how pretty I am and always hugging and touching me too much. I remember when I was like 9 or so, my mom was at work and he was watching me. He had me sit on his lap all the time, but this time I felt his penis poking my bottom. It seemed weird but he was just talking to me about normal stuff. He would always seem to accidentally brush his hand on my butt and privates. This kind of stuff went on all the time. Sometimes he would lie next to me when he said goodnight. He always ended up dry humping me. He would then stand up and have his penis sticking straight out in his pjs.

It got worse when I was 11. I started getting my boobs and hair on my privates. One night he was doing his same rubbing thing when he started talking about how much he loves me and that I am special to him. He said he wanted to show me how special I was and make me feel good. He just suddenly stood up and pulled my covers off and pulled off my underwear. I was scared but I don't know why I did not say stop.

He started to use his mouth on my privates and kept asking if it felt good. He kept saying don't be scared you are old enough now. He did this about once a week. About the 4th time I felt like I really had to pee bad and told him. He just kept going even more and I had my first climax. I had no idea what happened at the time but now I know what orgasms are. I was so confused because I knew it was not right but it felt good. After I would feel sick and afraid that someone would find out.

This went on for about a year and then one time he came in my room at night and I just could not take it. I started crying and told him I did not want to do it anymore. He just said ok and then started telling me how much he loves me again. That was when it all stopped. Just like that. I never told him no before that and I do not know why. I feel stupid and bad that I did not say no sooner.

I am 15 now and I am scared to have a boyfriend. All of my friends do and one of them has fooled around with hers a little. I do play with myself sometimes but I always feel sick afterwards and think it is wrong.

He acts like nothing ever happened. We have a great house and nice things. I wish he never did those things, but I do not want for anyone to find out.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Claire

by Claire
(Location Undisclosed)

Forced into Prostitution: 
My name is Claire. I'm currently 19. I have a 4 year old son named Emmett.

I was only 14 for the first few weeks I was pregnant with him. I believe that he was delivered 7-8 months after my 15th birthday.

I still don't know who Emmett's biological father is. I can't even count how many men I've had sex with. Sometimes I think it may even be a hundred.

I didn't know I was pregnant until I realized that I was missing my periods and gaining weight.

I never told anyone about the pregnancy. Therefore, I never got to have an abortion.

My dad didn't know until my slim belly was really getting bigger.

Despite my pregnancy, my pimp (my dad) still forced me to pleasure his clients.

It all started out when I was very young. My dad has been "playing games" with me as long as I can remember.

When I was about 8, my dad convinced me that I was getting older and that I was now allowed to "play games with other guys".

He'd invite two or three older men to come over and watch football as I s**ked their d***s.

When I got to be 11, it wasn't just s**king d***s during a football game. It started to get worse. Way worse.

At this point, I started to realize that I was in danger. Despite that, I was scared. I wanted to run away, but I didn't dare to because I knew what would be have to be done if I did.

Luckily, I did have protection. I was on birth control and the men were wearing condoms. It didn't matter to me. It was still extremely painful.

My dad is my pimp. He'd sell me to older men for their own sexual entertainment. The brutal beatings made me think of myself as not only a sex toy, but also a useless punching bag.

When I was 14, the rapes got more longer and painful. I was staying up longer. More men started coming to get me. Instead of ignoring me as I cried in pain, they laughed.

They called me names. They beat me. Burnt me with cigarettes.

Being laughed at while in pain is worse than being ignored.

To me, it's the most terrible, humiliating feeling. It makes me angry. It makes me feel like nothing. I'm just a pile of s**t.

I'm a slut. I'm a whore. I'm a low-life prostitute.

Where was mom in this situation? Sitting around and doing nothing. She didn't care. Even when she knew it was happening in the other room. She did absolutely nothing.

To make a long story short, I've never done anything about it. I got the sh**tiest grades in school. Although I sound educated, I'm not. I didn't learn how to read or write until the 7th grade.

I love my wonderful language arts teacher, Ms E for teaching me how to read & write.

Although she suspected I was having issues, I never told her about the touching. I told her a big fat lie. I told her that my parents were getting divorced.

I didn't have any outside scars then to prove the abuse.

Thanks for reading my story.

---

Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Jessica S

by Jessica S
(United Kingdom)

Then I became 12: 
It all started with a dream, the same thing every time. The door would swing open and someone walked in. I'd feel them touch me, kiss me and then other things as well. Then the door would slam shut and that's when I woke up. I asked my mom and dad about it and the pair of them acted really weird at the time. My mom would try to avoid the conversation and my dad would become aggressive. I just began accepting the dreams as part of my life between the age of 9 and 11, unlike the dreams of the beatings, which were real to me...the hits and kicks.

I constantly had to watch over my shoulder. My dad had thrown knives at me once or twice, and I had constant trips to emergency rooms. My mom told me exactly what to say, and I did as I was told.

When I turned 13, things went downhill. I was raped 3 times by my cousin. My mom told the police I was a liar, and that's what I thought as well: that I was a liar.

I was admitted to hospital on a number of occasions. I began to self-harm. My mom became angry with me and walked out for 3 months. I didn't know where she was, but that was normal for me (she'd done it many times before). A few days after my last trip to hospital my dad became really angry because the light bulb had blown out and at the same time I was being too slow from coming downstairs. He came running upstairs and he picked me up and progressed to the stairs and threw me down. "Fix the f***ing bulb," he told me.

When I turned fourteen I finally realized my dreams were real. My dad had raped me. That was the last straw for me. I had had enough. It was 3 months into school term and I was extremely tired after spending the night standing in the living room because I wasn't sleeping on time and my stomach was growling at me and I had been caught in the rain on the way to school and then my form teacher started on me telling me I always letting the form down by being late and other stuff and that's when I lost it. I yelled at her. I let everything out. Everything. The school had a number of meetings after that and Social Services were rung. They said there was nothing wrong and I was making the whole thing up (they hadn't talked to me, just my parents).

I still live at home and now I'm 15. Everything is still bad but it's manageable. I read stories in the paper about horrible stories of child abuse and think, I'm not as bad as that, why did I complain.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Emotional Wreck

by Emotional Wreck
(Location Undisclosed)

I was abused by both my brothers as a young child, but I highly doubt they were aware that the other also abused me. I don't quite remember when it started but I may have been as young as 6. They would come into my room at night or at any time in the day if no one was around and play with my privates, lay on my bed and then eventually lay on top of me and pleasure themselves. They are more than 10 years older than me. Fortunately for me they did not insert their penises inside my little frame but they would still ejaculate on me. This happened on a regular basis and I'm very ashamed to say that although I just laid there I began to enjoy the attention and the pleasure from these encounters and would not be angry if and when they did come.

I was and still am a shy person so they had no worries that I would say anything. This went on till my teenage years. One brother stopped when I was around 11 and the other continued to take advantage of me til I was around 14, until I had began to resent him for still coming to me even though he was married. So I told him to stop or if he came in my room I would tell him to go away or not to touch me which I really wish I had the guts to do many years ago. I later learned that he just couldn't help himself as I saw that he would hug my friends too tightly or touch there bums, etc. So until recently I would refuse to talk to him on the phone and would give him cold small talk when they would visit. But recently I have tried to forgive as he doesn't seem right in the head and I feel he needs help. But anyway, his wife has recently given birth to a beautiful daughter which I should have been happy about but it makes me cry every time I think about the fact he has unlimited access to her and I think I still have time til she reaches around 4 til he starts to think about touching her but thinking about it, he is so nasty. I wouldn't put it past him that he has already started.

Shortly before her birth I learnt that my sister had shared the same sentiment and was also not pleased he was having a girl. Then she eventually forced it out of me that I was abused and was shocked to hear that my innocent childhood wasn't so innocent. She had told me that he had tried it with her but she had fought him off. But told me that he had also touched up one of our cousins and some of my sister's friends. She then referred to him as a paedophile which really burst my bubble that he just made a mistake with me. My brother is a paedophile and I'm still too scared and ashamed to tell my boyfriend, my family or my bros wife so that she can protect her daughter. I'm scared to ruin his life and break their marriage. My sister said she will threaten both brothers (my other brother has a daughter but is less perverse and I have some faith that he wouldn't touch her) and say if they touch their daughters she will tell the whole family what they are about, but hasn't yet. I feel helpless and scared for my nieces and I'm just relying on having a talk with them when they are around 7 to find out if they are being abused too. I hate what this has done to me emotionally. I look after a child and can't help but think about what a sick person would do to him. I would never touch him like that but it comes into my head that I could if I was sick like my bros. I'm even scared to clean him sometimes wondering if I've wiped him too many times and end up not bathing him properly just so I can be at peace with myself. I hate my brothers because I know I'm even going to have them thoughts when I have my own kids, and be very paranoid about who comes near them. Even their own father. I don't want this to ruin my life. But most of all, I don't want my nieces to go through the same thing.

My boyfriend doesn't know about this but he says I show signs of dysfunction and believes it's because of my absent father. I can't bring myself to tell him coz don't want him to know how dysfunctional my family is. I'm so ashamed of them. I know it could be worse but I have no pride in my family. Sorry for the long story.

---

Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Angela1

by Angela
(Location Undisclosed)

My mother's secrets: 
My parents who were both alcoholics divorced when I was five. My mother sadly was granted physical custody. My mother took all her anger out on my brother and I. We were the youngest and the hated. My oldest brother was loved and cared for. He would often tell on us and even lie to get us in trouble. One day he told my mother that my brother (now deceased at 19) was playing with matches. She put a long t-shirt on him and set the bottom on fire and let it burn for several minutes, holding on to him before she put it out. I was forced to watch and asked if I would like to be next. He had several blisters on his lower legs. Sometimes I swear I can still hear him screaming.

She was very violent towards my brother and would beat him with her fists and belts and call him a f**ken bastard. My brother was also my older brother's punching bag. He was beaten by one or the other weekly. My brother also learned how to eat fast because his food was often taken away by my older brother. My mother didn't say a word, she didn't care. So we would sneak out to the kitchen late at night and eat dry cereal.

Several years later thing's got a lot worse when she got a boyfriend. The abuse turned emotional. I was placed at the table for hours at a time and told I was stupid and fat and wouldn't be worth two cents. When company came over I would be weighed and my backside measured in front of them. I was now the target and my brother was left alone. I would go to sleep and hear her still going on at the table about me. I would put my fingers in my ears. This was life at my house.

After a night of drinking she ripped my shirt off and punched me in the face and screamed at me, "He'll never want you, he wants me." She was talking about her boyfriend. I was only 11. She taunted me about being sexually abused and with the voice of a little girl she'd say, "Did he stick his finger in your little pussy." The last time she said this I was 28. She had quit drinking but she was still the same and she still hated me.

My brother was thrown out when he turned 16. He developed a drug and alcohol problem and was dead at 19. I was also thrown out off and on in my teenage years, and her abuse continued even after I left home.

I married the first man that came along just to get out. The most sickening truth of all I learned by accident one afternoon when I stopped by her house unexpectedly back in '96. My mother and older brother's relationship was sexual. I was sick. Looking back, there were signs. He would stomp out of the room if anyone came to the house to visit her. In the end it was as if he was a predator and she was the prey. I have no contact with her or him and they still live together in their madness. I divorced, remarried and moved 2,500 miles away, but I'm still haunted by the memories.

---

Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Chelsea R

by Chelsea R
(South Dennis, Massachusetts, USA)

I'm eighteen years old. When I was eight, my innocent life was stolen from me. My body no longer my own as I seem to see it now. My step dad molested me. He touched me in places with his hands, places an eight-year-old should never have to feel until they have to go see their doctor for the "woman's ritual" of their first pap.

I was eight. I still climbed trees, played on the jungle gym, stood on my head for fun, and thought I was the boss. Until he showed me I was no longer in control of who I was or what I did. It wasn't even until later that I realized that he wasn't allowed to do this to me. My mom didn't seem to realize. I was told never to tell. So she was never to know.

I have a younger sister and a younger brother. My sister is only a year younger than me. I got protective. I wanted to protect her, to make sure nothing that was happening to me would happen to her. As I now know, while sitting in her sad blue room with her alone as our parents were again fighting with each other, that I had failed. He would always come to me, and make me "take it". He seemed to want me to feel it, to make me feel anything. I didn't want to give him anything. Every day or anytime he could get me alone, or when we just happened to be alone he would try and make me feel.

He would whisper nasty, disgusting words and phrases in my ear. He would tell me things like, "Like it baby. Tell me you like it." I was young and didn't know I wasn't supposed to do as he said. I looked up to him. He was my dad, the one I knew from when I was born. I knew no other dad.

I got my period at age eleven. That was when he left me be sometimes. I guess he seemed more cautious of my body being able to hold a child or something along those lines. I want to say he stopped completely and no more came of what he did, that he stopped touching me with his hands. This is where I have to be truthful to myself. He didn't stop touching me. He became more demanding. I wouldn't just have to "take it" anymore, I had to do what he told me to. I was afraid for my sister, and nervous for my mother. I was scared that he would use her as he used me. I grew into a woman's body fast, unfortunately. I hated it. I hated that he stared at my chest at thirteen and told me to touch him to make him feel pleasure. I hated him, and now I know I always will.

I wanted to drive when I was fourteen. I wanted to grow up. I wanted to be able to get away. So he brought me with him to a motel once and he attempted to pleasure me in a closed-in tanning room with tanning beds. It was hot and stuffy. I could barely breathe. Then he brought me to the room he paid for for a night. For the first time he made me feel. Tears fell silently from my eyes as I realized my innocent sexual awakening had started when my dad had spread me over the bed. I cried for the experience that was forever lost to me.

I remember the delighted sneer on his face when he realized my body liked what he did. It was horrible. I felt dirty and I repulsed myself. I wanted to curl up in a ball and die. Fourteen and I wanted to kill myself for allowing him to do this to me. Four years, and my mom hadn't noticed, and if she did, she didn't try to help me. She just kept telling me to stop hanging all over him. I was making sure he never tried to use my sister, not hanging over him. I was watching him. I hated her for not knowing, for never being there for me. God I hated myself for not being stronger. He got abusive towards my little brother and started hitting him.

My brother is two and a half years younger than me. He was young and stupid. A kid in all senses. I was always there for him, I was scared that one day my dad would hit my brother too hard and that my brother would never wake up. I took some of the wrap, knowing that my dad wouldn't hit me as bad as he would my brother. I hate him for touching my brother in a violent way.

At sixteen I was excited as all fifteen-year-olds are for their sweet sixteen. Turns out my birthday gift came late from him and consisted of me being bent over a washer in my kitchen with my brother and sister in their rooms upstairs and my mom in the next room laying down because she had worked late that night at the nursing home she practically lived at. I want to say he didn't rape me but he did, and something in me snapped. I was worried my mom would see, and would be hurt to know what was going on right under her nose.

Her love for him would show and I would be devastated to find out if she would truly pick him over me. I got scared and told him, "It's a bad idea I think we should stop." He didn't respond for the longest 10 seconds of my life. He looked at me and pulled out and smiled, then walked away as if nothing happened. 2:24 PM and there was no hope left of salvaging any innocence from my body. I finished my laundry and went upstairs. My brother was watching TV, and my sister was laying on her bed talking on her cell phone about a boy she wanted to date. Thank god, they we're busy. Thank god, no one noticed. I went to my room and cried myself to sleep.

I tried to get stronger and I did. I tried to keep quiet but I couldn't. I had to ask my sister if she was ever touched by him. She was and it devastated me that I failed her. He came to her at nights when he was with me or when he'd just got done with me. Disgusting, Vile, Mentally sick. Words I think of when thinking of him. I can't have people coming up behind me without my heart hammering with anger, pain and vulnerability. I don't know what to do about anything. In my mind I'm always lost in a black sea on a boat ravaged by crashing waves.

I trusted him with my life. He was supposed to make sure nothing happened to me, look out for my well being from those who would treat me badly. He ended up treating me worse than anyone else in my young life. I will never be able to get my innocent life back. I'll never have a normal relationship where I will never not think of him and what he did. He used my body and hardened my heart. I am always watching for signs of sexual abuse in others who seem hurt. I am drawn to them like an insect is to lights. We are together in what we feel, yet we seem so distant from any other individual.

Eight years of sexual and emotional abuse by my step-father and never-ending neglect from my mother. Now as I am eighteen and spoke up about what had happened to me to a woman who was a detective, I feel worse about myself and what I allowed to happen to me because not only did the entire thing mess with my mind, when she told me she didn't believe anything I said. She had ended up turning everyone in my family against one another. So the end result left me screaming with undeserved neglect and left me feeling alone to the point where I'll never be able to heal from it. But that's just me and my story, others seem to have a better luck than I.

Who am I now? Well, I'm an eighteen-years-ld who rents a room with a family I know. I have a good job that pays okay, and friends that care about me. Notice I didn't mention any family. That's because my mother decided to stay with the man that molested both her daughters, sells and does drugs, beats her son and herself, cheats on her, takes all the money, brings drug addicts to the house with her kids around, and is in and out of jail for things that should keep him there his entire life yet he gets out with a slap on his damn wrists. Life is hard but we get stronger as things are laid out for us.

---

Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Christina B

by Christina B
(Philadelphia, USA)

Note from Darlene Barriere – Webmaster: 
The following poem was submitted with Christina B's The Lighter Side contribution titled Writing Since I Was 8 on this site. I felt it was more in keeping with the intent of The Lighter Side, as well as paying homage to Christina's work to post it separately on this page as a child abuse story.

I remember...

I remember the slamming door
and the blood on the floor
I remember the tears, they fell
Others were fooled by your sugary spell

I remember the pain, I felt inside
And all the days and nights, I cried
I remember the loneliness that crept along
Fearfulness became my song

I remember the fear that gripped my heart
Though I try, it still won't part
The brokenness, the anguish, the pain
I always did love you, but it was in vain

I remember the sadness that took over my eyes
I lost that spark inside, each time I cried
I'd try to behave, I really did
I'd think of this every time I hid

I remember the words - you used on me
I thought that death would set me free
You told me that I would never feel love
I'd cry with the rain that fell from above

I remember how you looked at me, like trash
I was a rodent, disgusting ... a rash
That you were itching to be free and clear
You tried your best to get me out of here

I remember the day you said, "You should be dead!"
I sat on the floor, and wept, those words in my head
I agreed with her then, though she did not know
I was just 8 and I yearned for me to "go"

No father, no family... they'd all left
It probably was from the anger in your breath
My room became my shelter, my very best friend
And there I'd hide, praying your wrath would end

I remember, Mom, how you took away my youth
stole my innocence, stole my truth
I remember, Mom, how you stole my soul
The pain gripped my heart and yet, hasn't let go

I remember my 18th birthday, and how I packed it all
Though I was leaving, my whole world was raw
Broken, abused, battered and frayed...
I would have been dead had I stayed another day...

I remember, though, those tears in my eyes
How I want to protect that child who cries
But, that was me, and I am she
And though I am free... I will never be me

I remember......

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Conrad

by Conrad
(Malta)

I used to be physically abused when I was a child. It is tough for me to explain in full detail. At the age of 4 up until 15 I was physically abused. At that time my father used to hit me. I was quite mischievous but he smacked me and only made matters worse. Mum used to say that I exaggerated when I tried to open my heart, and that left me living in denial. Up until now I have trouble believing that these events are true. And this explains why at school I was always seeking for attention in the class and being the big bully.

Today I am suffering the consequences indirectly because people that knew me between the ages of 11 up until 16 know me as the bully. Today I am a very peaceful person seeking out to help people in similar stories.

Peace and love to all humanity

Conrad

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Dan1 For My Little Cousin Francisco

by Dan1
(Northern California, USA)

I've been visiting this site for awhile now and I have always felt at home, safe and sound, and away from fear of judgement whenever I am here. Every time I finish reading some ones story, I feel that much "Healed" from my abuse. But once I close my laptop I'm dropped back to earth.

I recently found out by my little cousin (who I'll call Frances) that he was almost sexual molested by an older cousin of ours.

My little cousin Frances asked if he can stay at my place for his spring break. I told'em "yes" but to also tells his parents. A couple days later he was at my house and we stayed up that first night. When we were getting into our beds he asked me if I thought our older cousin mike (we'll call him mike) was gay? I admitted that mike was odd but wasn't sure if he was gay (by the way, this was the 2nd time he'd ask me that question). Frances started talking to me about him saying that he didn't really like being around him. "Why?" I asked. My little cousin kind of paused for a minute then said that our older cousin mike tried to touch him twice. My heart literally skipped a beat when he said that. I asked if he didn't mind telling me what happend. He told me right on. Almost as if he'd wanted to tell me or some one for a very long time. My little cousin said that the 1st time it happend was when he was 12 years (he's now 14, and mike if I'm correct, was 21) old during the time my grandmother passed away. He told me that mike moved next to him on the bed during the middle of the night and at first began to slowly rub his stomach. Then frances felt mike trying to put his hand down his shorts and that's when frances woke up and said to him "what are you doing?" Mike just said that he couldn't sleep. Frances turned his bak on mike and layed on his side. Seconds later he felt mikes hand trying to get inside the bak of his shorts. Frances jumped up and and layed next to to one of my aunties. And that was the end of that. The 2nd time it happend was 3 months ago. 5 of my other little boy cousins had a slumber party and my little cousin frances went to sleep over and mike for some reason was their. That really ruined his day. When every one was going to sleep, mike who was sleeping on one end of the room asked one of my little cousins that was laying next to frances he they can switch places. My little cousin frances hoped that my little cousin would say no but instead he said "sure why not". Once again mike was laying next to him and my little cousin was scared to go to sleep. Frances told me that When all the kids passed out on there beds, mike placed his hand on his chest. Frances then got annoyed and yelled out "What the hell is wrong with you, why do you keep touching me.!?" I guess it surprised mike because frances is known to be a very quiet boy in our family. My little cousin hoped that 1 of the kids their would wake up but it was very late and frances himself struggled to stay awake. He tried to lay close to 1 of my other little cousins that was laying next to him as much as possible so that way mike wouldn't b able to mess with him. My little cousin said "please just let me go to sleep". Mike just got up and left the room. And that was the end of that.

I couldn't believe it happend at all. But I did believe him when he told me. He said he hates him for that and that he tries every possible way to avoid mike. I was always known by my younger cousins as a "Big little kid" because of how I'm 21 and yet I always make time to hang out and spend time with them and even try to give them good advise when ever they have a problem. But for some reason when my little cousin frances told me about mike, I literally didn't know what to say to him. For once in my life I felt useless to him. I guess it left me speechless because it basically happend right under every ones nose. I wish I can tell him that I knew how he feels because I was molested when I was around his age too but I was always viewed as a strong kid and honestly i was afraid to tell him that because I didn't want him or any of my little cousins to look pity upon me you know. I really felt horrible because i didn't know what to tell'em or how to help him, but it really honored me that he trusted me enough to tell me. All I told him was that I'am always here for him if he ever needed anything and that mike ever did it again, i'd regulate for him I really hope I didn't dissapoint him though.

Thanks Again for letting me share my story.

---

Note from Darlene: If I have not left a comment on your story, please understand that it is not personal; it's just that my hectic schedule no longer permits me to do so.

I hope you'll follow me on:


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Child Abuse Story From Taylor2

by Taylor
(Location Undisclosed)

My family has had a very rough past. And most likely it will have a bad future too. But the one dealing with it the most was my 9-year-old little brother. When he was born he had an undeveloped bladder, which means if he isn't awake he can't feel that he has to go to the restroom. He just does it.

CPS was involved in my family and my brother and I got separated, which was the hardest thing for me to do. He lived with his dad's sister and I lived with our grandmother. He lived there for about a year and a half. thank god not much longer. I had the number to where he was at and I decided to call one day. The one who answered was very rude and scary. And the way he yelled for my brother to get the phone even scared me. I almost wanted to hang up. So when my brother got on the phone we got to talking about our mom and his dad, and the littlest things like school. Finally, I asked him if they were treating him okay. He was silent for a short while and he just started crying. He told me that they had 'spanked' him every time he wet himself, which was every night. And they didn't wash his sheets, they didn't buy him pull-ups, and they didn't even get his medicine from the doctor that he was supposed to take to help him reduce the urination. He had to get off the phone, so I ran to my room and cried for a little while. I went into the kitchen to where my grandmother was, and when I told her what my brother had told me she paused everything. She sat down and started saying things like, 'My grandbaby' and 'He can't help himself'. Which I knew that too.

But don't think we just left it alone.

My grandma called our CPS worker right away and she agreed to go investigate. When she went, she checked for any visible bruises on my brother. None. But when she asked to speak with him alone, that's when he showed the lady all of his bruises. On his back, back of legs, butt, and even his feet. Soon, he got removed from where he was and now he lives with my grandma and me. HAPPY!

He tries to forget about it. It's hard for him because nobody else was there for him to run to and talk to. He is now 11 and he is more happy than I could imagine, and our parents are both doing better. We will be living with them shortly.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Jen1 Part 2

by Jenn
(Pennsylvania, USA)

It took me a while to be able to do anything.but June 3,2009 changed it all.I finally got the strength to speak up.After years of taking crap from people.It has been hard but Ive ignored the people that tell me lies.and even though Im still having to deal with my parents.I dont live at home.and I finally got people to LISTEN to me.After so many years.After pointless suicide attempts,and drug over doses,ive realized that Im so much better then the people that have to sink so low to prove them self bad.My parents are still trying to make me look like the guilty one.But I got out of that house and moving on with my life.Ive had so many people that barely knew me from places where Ive stayed telling me that Im better then my parents and that I shouldnt have to be treated like s**t.And sometimes I still think its my fault for everything,but at the end of the day I know its not.I may not always think that at the end of the day but I know it in the back of my head.It doesnt hurt to admit the pain that I feel sometimes.Through-out everything Ive had to be the strong one,and the one not allowed to cry.everynight I cry thinking what it would be like still living with my parents,and all the abuse...and i still always ask myself "why me",but i guess God knew Id make it through it and move on to help others.Which I plan on doing! I had my family disown me for a while.and that includes my extended family...but my immediate family still DISOWNS me,and always will..They will NEVER forgive me,and honestly I dont care..But my extended family is growing to accept what happens.they still dont wanna believe it but they do!

I wanna thank 1 person on here that I will always keep in my heart!! :)

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Child Abuse Story From Emily3

by Emily
(USA)

I was physically and sexually abused from the ages of 7-18. My mom was an alcoholic and was always going clubbing late at night, leaving me home alone. She often brought home different men every time she would go out.

As a 7-year-old, I was often left to fend for myself. I ate very little, because my mom never really went grocery shopping. Soon I was washing my own clothes with soap and water while my mom was sitting on the couch drinking and smoking. And I was only about 7!

When my mom brought men home, she was almost always wasted. So the men often took advantage of her. I would always hide in a corner of my bedroom, but that didn't help much because I was often sobbing and crying. Some of the guys would lay me down and touch me all over my body. Some of them would make me touch them. Sometimes I didn't want to and they would threaten to hurt me or my mom, so I would.

When I was 10 my mom let her so-called boyfriend move in with us. He was no good. He used to beat both me and my mom over the simplest of things. And at night he would come into my room and start touching me, sometimes even putting his fingers inside of me through my privates. Every time I cried he would slap me across the face or hold me down by my neck.

My mom finally kicked this creep out when I was 13. But not without a fight. I do believe my 13th year was my best. My mom was getting sober, and she had stopped bringing home creeps. She didn't go clubbing as often either. I really thought my life was turning around. That was until my mom came home one day telling me that she was engaged. I was happy for her, but then again I was terrified of what kind of guy she picked this time! I never did tell her how I felt about it.

She got married a week after my 14th birthday. And we went to live with him, and his 22 year old son. But it wasn't long before his son started to bother me. His son used to hold me against walls and threaten me, he would sometimes hit me. And a few times he made me perform oral sex on him.

When I was 15 I told his dad (my step dad) what his son was doing to me and making me do. My step dad didn't believe me, and our relationship was ruined. My mom believed me but didn't want to show it. Soon me and my step dad were arguing every day. And that led to it getting physical. He would beat me, lock me in the shed outside, and even tie me. He did this until I was 16 1/2. Then he started sexually abusing me.

The first time this happened with him, he had locked me in the shed outside for about 3 hours. When he came in he had duct tape, a knife, and a rope. At this point I was literally thinking he was going to kill me. But he ended up taping my mouth and he tied my arms together behind my back. Then he threatened me with the knife, holding it to my throat. So I didn't make a sound, and he raped me.

This went on until my 18th birthday. That day I packed my some of my things and left, never turned back. I left all pictures of me, my mom, anything that would bring back those feared memories. Clothes, I left. My boyfriend let me stay at his place until I finished high school about a month later.

I'm 19 now, have a pretty good paying job at my boyfriend's family business, and I'm planning on going to college as soon as I have the money for it. I haven't spoken to my mother since the day I left. My boyfriend is my life right now. I tell him everything and he keeps it between only me and him. He's always there for me. I do believe my childhood was ruined. It's very rare that I remember any good times, just the bad. The only person who I've really told about what used to go on in my house was my boyfriend. Sometimes it's very hard when we're intimate because it brings back those memories, but we're doing everything we can to cope with that. I'm still a little depressed, but opening up on this site to share my story helps me to release some of my anger. My life is really beginning to look up, and I'm so happy I lived through ALL of it.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Emily S

by Emily S
(Jacksonville, Florida, USA)

My life as a teen—I was trafficked, raped and beaten by my stepdad: 
My life has sucked. When I was living with my mom, my stepdad at nine put me on pills that could have killed me. Almost did. 14 to 18 pills a day. He raped me over 18 times, and then the pills. I would pass out and wake up with someone I didn't know on top of me.

They trafficked me for 3 years, they meaning my mom and stepdad. They beat me, but now I live with my dad. No one knows. They should be dead but I can't tell my family. Why ruin their life because my life was ruined.

I have nightmares. I don't sleep and don't feel alive. Sometimes I feel lost. I need to tell but can't do it. I know I'll be ok because I'm a survivor. I can live and I will with some help. But I can't keep living with it. It makes you feel sick to know he videotaped it. He made me watch to try to picture it as someone else, but you can't. You sit there, watching yourself cry, whispering, "Someone help me," but no one ever came. He laughed when I cried.

I need help still, but do not dare to ask now.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed20

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

I grew up in a small town, middle class neighborhood and was an exceptionally shy boy at nine years old. I was also small for my age and that factor weighed in on my shyness from people in general. I only had one childhood friend and he was about 5 years older than me, but I seldom saw him as he went off to play with boys his own age.

There was a house on our street that forever stayed empty and it was hard to miss as you drove along. The trim on the house was sort of pink but the rest of the house was all white. I had never seen a house with pink trim before. Then one day as I was riding my bike down the block, there were trucks at the empty house and someone was moving in there. It was a man about 35 or 40 I guess and he waved to me as I went by. Too shy to wave back, I sped along and was even sort of showing out as I raced off.

At some point I rode down the sidewalk in front of the house and he was working out front. He had a new puppy and was walking him around on a leash. I stopped to watch and he let the puppy run up to me. I began petting it and when the man walked up, I just let him talk to me and for some reason I didn't feel so shy because I was playing with the puppy. I can't remember much else about that day, but I do recall him saying that I could play with the puppy anytime I wanted. I had always wanted a dog but my mom was dead set against it.

It was summer and the very next morning, I couldn't wait to go down the street to see if the puppy was outside. Sure enough, the man had him outside letting him run around the yard so I rushed up and began playing with it as it approached me wagging its tail.

At some point, the man told me that I would have to play with the puppy in the back yard so that he would stay inside the fence and told me I could put my bike by a tool shed on the side of the house. My mom had always given me the stranger speech, but this didn't seem the same to me because she said bad people were "creepy" but this man seemed really nice and gave me attention.

At some point while I was playing with the puppy in the back yard, the man told me to come in and get something cold to drink because it was getting too hot outside. I guess because he was an adult, I just listened to him and went inside. He gave me some ginger ale. I had never had any and thought it tasted weird, but I drank it anyway because I was too shy to say anything.

I'm not sure of all the specifics, but I was sitting on the edge of the couch drinking the ginger ale and looking around. The man had gone down the hall into a room or somewhere and I really don't know how long he was gone. Then I heard him call out to me to come in there for a second. When I walked down the hall, he was in a room and the door was open just a few inches. I could hear him tell me to come inside, so when I got there he was behind the door and opened it enough for me to walk in there.

When he closed the door behind me, I turned and looked up at him and that's when I saw that he had no shirt on and when I glanced down, he was completely naked and had an erection sticking so far out that I didn't know what it was for a moment. A split second later when I realized what I was staring at, I quickly turned the other way and could feel my face blushing. I remember thinking I had done something wrong and that I actually wasn't supposed to have gone in there because he was undressed.

I can't recall the exact sequence of events at that moment but I do remember him saying things to me but I wouldn't turn around. At some point, he put his hand on my shoulder and sort of led me over to a little bed in the middle of the room. It was just a mattress on a boxspring with no sheets or pillows. He made me turn around and look at him. I was too scared and shy to say that I wanted to go home, so I slowly turned around and I remember my heart was pounding so hard that I could hear it in my ears.

Then things just went into a surreal sort of world and I remember a lot of pieces but not the entire event. I was told to sit down on the bed. I remember him saying something and then placing my hand on his erection and ultimately being made to do different things with my hands. At some point he told me to wait and he knelt down and within a few seconds, he had taken off my t-shirt and my shorts and underwear. He walked over and put them in a chest of drawers and said I could have them back if I did what he said. It scared me so bad as a little boy to think I would have to try and run down the street naked in order to get home. I was so naive but I listened to what he said.

I can't recall it in sequence but he made me stand and do it to him and then lay on the bed with him and even sit on his stomach facing the other way and do it. He made me lay down while he did things to me and then at some point made me lay a certain way on the edge of the bed. The only part of that I remember well was that I couldn't understand what he meant and he finally took my legs and arms and laid me out longways along the edge of the bed. He walked up and was holding onto the headboard or something and just put his erection up against my face.

I tried to turn the other way but he held my shoulder forward and told me to put my mouth on it. I was too scared by that time and just did it, hoping it would be over soon. He stood there, arched over and going back and forth and I just wanted it to stop because my head was aching on the sides from my mouth being wide open for so long. He was saying stuff but I can't remember any of it and then suddenly something just started shooting into my mouth. The only thing I thought was that he was peeing in my mouth so I tried to pull back but he wouldn't let me. He just shouted really loud at me so I quit struggling and just laid there until it was over.

He finally stopped and stood up and his erection came out of my mouth. When I sat up I was really dizzy for some reason and when I looked up there was white stuff all on his erection. I noticed it was on my chest and the edge of the bed. He told me to hurry to the bathroom and I instantly darted in there and began washing my face and rinsing my mouth and chest from the faucet. I couldn't fathom what had just happened to me and it was like a thousand voices in my head all at once.

I went back out and asked if I could go home and he got my clothes from the drawer and held them away from me saying that I could have them back but I could never say anything to anyone and I had to come back on Saturday. I stood silent for the longest time but with prodding, finally told him yes.

The hardest part about the entire incident was having to get up the courage to go back there on Saturday, especially without my mom finding out. He had told me someone would come and take me and my mom wouldn't be able to have me back. I naturally became so scared I made sure to go back there when he told me. I remember having stomach trouble and severe anxiety over the next couple of days until Saturday came. It was a state of apprehension that I've never encountered since.

When I went over there on Saturday morning and went around back to be let inside, I walked in and there was another man there with this man. No need to go through the story again, but I was taken into the room and undressed. They made me do what I had done before except I had to do it to the other man too. At some point, they tried having sex with me but I started crying so they stopped. They did other stuff until it happened and then I went and cleaned up. They gave me my clothes and let me go home, again with the same warning.

At some point, I was outside about 3 days later and a car was there I had not seen before. I went behind the houses on my street so I could look through and see what was happening without being seen. To my amazement, the house was entirely empty once again and some man was changing the locks. I went home and to this day, never said a word to anyone about what had happened to me.

Nothing else ever happened to me throughout the remainder of my childhood, but it was enough trauma for an 9-year-old boy that I struggle with aspects of it to this day some 44 years later.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Lisa4

by Lisa
(Cambridgeshire, England )

I haven't had a very good childhood, and by childhood I mean a couple of years ago. It starts off from when I was about...well actually, it starts from when I was born. My biological father used to beat my mother and not really care whether I was there or not. He would spend all day on his computer or making model cars, or whatever it was he actually collected, not caring whether we had money for food and clothing or not. He was then kicked out and my sister came along. Then her father was kicked out and my brother came along. His dad is the one who made most of my years as a small child hell. He was a very violent person towards me, physically and mentally. He would also shout at my mother but never hit her, although his favourite one was pushing her around. He would never really hit my brother and sister, just a tap on the hand or back of the leg but he never normally thought twice about hitting me, especially around the face.

I remember the first really bad time he caused damage to me. I was being a normal child, nine I think, and he got in a real bad stress and punched a door into the right side of my head, making me bleed and also bruise for a few days afterwards.

Another time he hit me in front of my mother's best friend. What really hurt me the most wasn't the smack believe it or not, it was the fact that she just sat there.

All of this went on for a little while and it was very hard to cope with, as I'm sure some people might be able to imagine.

After a very big row between him and my mother he was kicked out. My mother is now in hospital, with a serious mental health issue, and I am living with him. I am 14 and finding it quite hard to be around him. The reason I am here is because he has a partner whom I love with all of my heart, and I do find it awkward and really quite uncomfortable. I also think that another reason I stay here might be because of guilt. See, most of my life revolves around me feeling guilty for everyone else. I find it hard living through each day of my life knowing he has done this to me and that I could be at risk of this happening again.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Lisa4" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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Child Abuse Story From Charlotte2

by Charlotte
(England, United Kingdom)

My ex step dad used to abuse me when I was young but now looking back at it I wish I spoke out before it got worse. My mum worked nights so then he used to touch me and abuse me. He used to tell me if I said anything I would upset my mum and I would get in trouble. But my mum split up with him because he didn't get on with my brother. I finally thought I was free from him and could live a normal life but I couldn't. He used to phone my mum and sound sad and ask my mum if I could stay at his house, so my mum got me to. I was scared.

Months later, when I was having my tea with my mum's new boyfriend, and my mum and I just started crying. They tried to get me to tell them. They thought it was bullying at school. My mum took me upstairs. I said go in your room, I'll write it down and give it you because I couldn't bear to tell her. When I gave her the note she came in my room crying her eyes out holding me say I'm sorry over and over again. And my stepdad came up when my mum went down. He sat by me asking if he was allowed to know what's wrong, so I said, "Ask Mum." I couldn't tell him.

They took me to police straight away, and in end he admitted everything, and not long been jailed for four years and tagged for 5 years and on sex offenders register for life.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From BeccaLynn

by BeccaLynn
(Location Undisclosed)

I never thought I would be in this situation. Around age 7 my father had lost my mother in a car accident. It was hard times for him. He would always say that I reminded him of her (The face of an Angel). He would come in my room at night, and always ask to play a game. He said this game was our little secret. The rules to the game were he could only touch me. It was kinda like tag but in a more sexual way. He would throw me down on my bed. Start to unbutton my pants. I told I don't wanna play anymore. He then continued. After my pants were off he stuck his finger in my private area. I cried, "Daddy stop." He stopped with the finger, then put his penis into me...it hurt badly...tears rolled down my face...I cried and cried. Those were the worst years of my life.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Shae

by Shae
(Utah, USA)

When I was three my father left with another woman...he left my brother my sister and me with my mother, who he had abused. I later learned that he touched me. I don't know the details, but I am trying to figure it out.

About three years later she married her husband. For eight years I have lived in fear. The abuse got worse over time...it happened so many times in different forms that I have forgotten many details. He would throw my brother and my sister down the stairs, hit them, punch them, kick them in the stomach, he even whipped them with belts. His punishments were always cruel...he used so much force that our butts would be sore and red for hours after he spanked us.

My mom's husband would go into my brother's room and beat him at night. I remember being so scared that he would come and hurt me after he was done. My siblings and I would purposely try to get each other in trouble just to spare ourselves. After a while of being tortured in the night, my brother started having night terrors. My mom and her husband both claim that's what happened at night. They deny that anything happened. During the time of the night terrors, my mom's husband went into my brother's room...my brother says that he was pinned to the floor face down, my mom's husband's knee on his back holding him down. Then he took his arm and pulled it back until it snapped. Even when it was snapped he held it there. My brother was completely helpless. When CPS got involved we were told not to say anything about ever being hit or spanked.

We left the state for a while, and I stayed at a friend's house for a couple of weeks in Idaho. While I was there I was sexually assaulted by my best friend's father. I was only ten, when he touched my butt and rubbed my chest. I was lying on my stomach on the couch. He got up and started rubbing my back. Within minutes he had touched everywhere on my back, from the back of my neck all the way down to my calves. Soon his hands were in my shirt. It took a lot to tell his wife what had happened.

After the investigation of my mom's husband was closed, it all came back, but this time he would hit me too. One time he hit me on the top of the head and knocked me out. Another time he smacked me across the face. But what hurt the most was watching him beat my four younger siblings. He would even spank his two boys when they were two. He would hit them and I couldn't do anything about it. It still hurts to remember it.

My mother participated in his verbal and emotional abuse toward me. Even the other children got some of it.

Recently, he broke my brother's arm again. He was mad at my brother for something and so he went to the room to talk to him. He punched my brother in the stomach, left, came back and picked him up off the floor and threw him back down at an angle onto his shoulder. My brother's bone went through the muscle and was sticking up.

We left for Washington to live with family, but it didn't end up working out so we came back to Utah...my mom is now trying to work on her marriage with him and wants us all to live in the same house again. My sister is now calling him dad again and my brother too wants to live with him.

I am fifteen years old, homeless, depressed and scared for my life and the lives of my sibling.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Victoria

by Victoria
(Washington, USA)

I was only 2 when my mom and stepdad met. He moved in with me, my mom, sister and grandparents when I was three and my sister was 8 or 9. Before they got married, my stepdad and older sister got along great and would have a lot of fun which I was always involved in. When I was five and my sister was 10 or 11 my mom and stepdad got married. We moved out of my grandparents' house and into our own home 20 minutes away. It was quiet, an adjustment, but it was nice having our own home finally. When my sister turned 12, things started going sour between her and my stepdad. I was only 6 at the time and didn't know any better myself. Things were changing between me and my stepdad as well.

Me and my stepdad would have this game where I would hide a golf ball somewhere on me. I didn't know he would go as far as reaching into my pants to retrieve it, which is where I used to hide it. When that game got old we stopped playing it.

At the age of 7, my mom believed I was old enough to bathe myself and I agreed with her as well because I was trying to be like my older sister who fought with my stepdad on a regular basis. Well, while mom believed I was old enough to bathe on my own, my stepdad did not. He would come in and wash my body, which made me feel very uncomfortable. That went on until I was 9 and my mom would not allow him to go into the bathroom when I was in there.

When I was 9 and on summer vacation, my stepdad and I went to Utah with his jeep club. My sister was not allowed to go, which made me very uncomfortable to be going by myself. On the way there I laid across the seat of the jeep to get some sleep. My stepdad took my hand and made me stroke something that was soft. When I couldn't take the curiosity anymore, I peeked over to where my hand was at and saw he was making me stroke him. I didn't let on that I knew what he was doing but it scared me. When we got back from the trip, my stepdad left me alone for awhile and continued to fight with my sister and make her miserable. Well, while I still didn't know what my stepdad was doing to me was wrong, we would wrestle every once in awhile. He would have me pinned on the ground and I would feel something between my legs. Whenever I asked him what it was he just said I'm feeling things. I knew what it was, I just didn't want to face the facts.

When I was in 5th grade, we all had that talk about sex, and going through puberty. When child abuse was brought up I listened carefully of the descriptions of sexual abuse. When the discussion was over I finally realized that my stepdad was molesting me and possibly my sister. When I got home that day and told my mom about the discussion at school, my stepdad then knew that I knew what he was doing was wrong. He started telling me when my mom would be gone shopping or out doing errands that if I told anyone I would be taken out of my home, he would go to jail and I would never see my mom or sister again. Being only ten years old I was scared that was going to happen and didn't say anything.

When I was 11, I found out that my stepdad had accepted a farming position in Illinois where his family was at and that we would be moving there. At first I was excited but when I found out my sister wouldn't be going because it was her senior year I started to freak out not wanting to be left alone with a guy who was abusing us. The day that my mom, stepdad and myself left to drive half way across the country, my sister stood on my grandparents' front porch crying because she was letting her little sister go into a horrible fate and didn't say anything about it to save me. It still haunts my sister to this day.

Living in Illinois wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I saw his parents more and his cousins. I made friends fast at my new school and went to a lot of sleepovers. My mom got a job at the university and my stepdad had a second job as a truck driver when farming season was over. But when he and I would be home by ourselves it would be different. He would always say we should get naked and do the rain dance. I of course refused because I was 12 years old and going through puberty. One day he actually stripped down and got naked in front of me not caring what I saw.

He continued to come into the bathroom whenever I would take a shower, even though he had his own bathroom. He didn't attempt to come into my room anymore, but it was still scary being in the house alone with him while my mom was at work.

When I started 7th grade he started using a belt as a punishment if I didn't get something done or was being disrespectful. As a rule in my house, I had to get my planner signed every day by my teachers. One day my English teacher was out sick and the substitute didn't sign my planner. When I got home and my stepdad saw this he took off his belt and beat me until I passed out from the pain. We never spoke of this to my mom or let her know what was going on when we would be alone.

I went to school with welts on my back. The girls in gym would see this every day when we were changing and tell the P.E teacher, who didn't do anything about it.

After school got out for the year I flew back to Washington to see my grandparents. Two weeks into the visit I found out that my mom and I would be moving back. Needless to say I was very happy about this. My mom didn't tell me about the divorce to my stepdad until a month after school started and I was in 8th grade. I was so happy that I could've leaped for joy. But as the weeks went on after hearing this news, my stepdad would call me all the time and say how much he missed me. He would send me cards, and then he would start threatening me if I so much as mentioned to him I was going to tell my mom what he did.

Knowing what he might do to me, I became very withdrawn from everyone and started cutting myself on the arm to release a pain that no one would ever know I was feeling. My neighbors up the street knew something was wrong but never pushed me to tell them what it was exactly. When my stepdad's phone calls would end in me crying, my mom told my stepdad that he would no longer be allowed to talk to me. He started saying that he would kill himself if he couldn't talk to me. That scared me even more and I became even more withdrawn from my friends and family.

My P.E teachers at school knew something was wrong and when they saw the cuts on my arms they finally called my mom, concerned about what was going on with me: my failing grades, always being sick, never being at school, the cuts on my arms and covering myself when a teacher would raise a hand to me to point something out. I knew my mom was mad at me for cutting myself, so the night she confronted me about it, I let everything out that my stepdad had done to me. Everything from the baths, the threats, the belt, everything I could spill out. She started screaming how she was going to kill him and got on the phone with him to confront him about it. Before she could push the dial button, I ran out of the house and up the street to my neighbor's. They knew what had happened and welcomed me into their home. My mom came up 30 minutes later and told me he would never hurt me again.

I didn't go to school for two weeks because I was scared and traumatized. It took my mom weeks to get me out of the house without being scared. My teachers at school found out and I was required to see the school counselor every day until I felt the need to no longer do so. I went through a lot of interviews with police, SARC and lawyers. We went to court for a year before he was convicted. He was charged with two counts of child molestation and one count of physical abuse and only got 5 1/2 years in jail when he should've served more. I am now 19 years old and didn't tell my mom until I was 14. He has one year left until he will be let out. That is my story.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Jess D Part 3

by Jessica D
(Fitchburg, Massachusetts, USA)

Its been about a week since part 2 so i wanted to let some things out.i started to talk bout my story 11/2009 because for so many yrs i was quiet i figured it will help me heel, well i still feel the same i feel disgusted, lonely, embarrassed, ashamed! All of these things. I have a cousin, b-friend that i talk to alot bout wat happened how offened n try to let it out. Well ive been wit my husband for 12 yrs now n feel like i can't open up to him as i want to. He is the best but im so ashamed for letting it happened to me for so long that i just can't talk to him as much as i want to. My best friend has done alot, n my cousin too. I have this emptiness inside of me cuz my lil sis. (the rapist daughter) which is also my best best friend has been avoiding me eva since i sat wit her n told her details! She is embarrassed for her father but damn i need her. I need to let everything out n can not do it cuz she will not listen. So i guess im writing so she and yourselves can read this and listen to me.

He would make me put his thing in my mouth, make me play wit it and tell me that it was a game. I had to do it right cuz if i didn't i would have to start all ova! He would play cards wit me and leave his thing hangin out from his shorts, i would always see it and close my eyes and pretended like it wasn't there. When it was time for bed usaully round 8ish he would come to my bed late late at nite no tv.s were on everyone sleepin including my mom, he would pull my pants down slide it in"sayin ssshhhh! Its only a game don't move" but in spanish. After he was done rapin me he would pull up his pants kiss my forehead or back of head and go to his room. I would than get up change my under wear cuz i would feel wetness and thought i peed! Than i would go to sleep cryin. Neva new it was semin til yrs later. I con't on for so many more yrs. He was my neighor for a few yrs and it cont there too. I was called up to the 4-5th floor and again same thing in his bed. Kids were outside playing while i was on his bed getting raped. I didn't kno wat to do or wat not to do. I was scared of talking cuz of my siblngs. Afraid i was neva gonna see then again. After he was my neighbor he moved away bout 5 mins down the road thats when i thought it would stop cuz now he wasn't really around! Well i was wrong again! I was at a summer program n my supervisor was takin all the teens to the park to play ball etc. Well the supvr. Knew the rapist n wanted to stop n get water since they were all thisty. Myself n her went up got water she went downstairs give it to them as i was getting more. Well he called me in yes it happened again. She was done wit the water and called me and he yells "shell be right there". I was so ashamed that day i felt dirty, like a loser, i had no idea wat to say when i left. She asked me if i was ok and of course i said yes. After that day at the summer program everytime the supvr. Asked to go to the park i would just say no. No in the mood. So i would stay behind. I have lots of ugly thoughts in my mind. I just want them out so i guess everyweek i can say a lil and see how i feel.

I wish my sis can read this n kno wat ive been through n that im still strugglin. I'll always strugglin but need the most important peopple to understand me and love me before its too late. Im trying to stay strong for my hus n kids but i fallin more each day that goes on. N yes im seeing a therapist but don't feel like its helpin. My meds don't help either. I want this man this monster to pay for wat he did to me to my siblings and who knos who else. I rather him rot in jail than dead. I wish the worse for him. He is not human. He made us suffer so much and is still makin us suffer. Why do i feel like people look at him like the victim? I should be the victim and people in my family think otherwise. I want the world to kno wat im goin thru and want people in my family to kno the truth. I want him in prison. I will cont to do everything i can until he suffers for the rest of his sorry life. Please help me out on how i can beat the statue of limitations. Ive called the senator, mayor, gov. And others. But still not much more my next step is the newspapers so the people the family can really know how serious i really am. Help me please. Thanx again for listening.

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Child Abuse Story From J1

by J
(USA)

I'm not really sure where to begin, but I have to start somewhere. For my own sanity I will try to spare the gory details. I am the oldest of four boys and a girl in my family. I am three years older than the twins, Tyler and Derrick, 12 years older than Trevor, and 17 years older than my little sister Emma. My dad is an alcoholic and a drug addict and dealer. He was physically and sexually abusive to me and my younger brothers for many years. He first sexually assaulted me when I was about four and first raped me just after my fifth birthday. I will never forget the pain. He would routinely beat us and belt us for any reason he could think of. I remember hearing my brothers screaming from the back room and feeling helpless because there was nothing I could do for them. He beat our mother and blamed us for being such an aggravation saying that we drove him to hurt her. She left us when I was six and after that the midnight encounters became more frequent. We never really slept, we just waited. First the creak of the door, then the heavy swaggering footsteps, then the nightmare. The only question was who would it be? I tried to close my eyes and disappear but it never worked. One of us would be swept away in the night only to return a little more dead inside. Making any noise at all surely resulted in excruciating punishment. We quickly learned to just eat the pain. I still don't really feel anything anymore.

Ty and Derrick were inseparable. They always had each other to fall back on. I felt like the black sheep. We were all together in the same hell, but I still felt alone in my pain. Isolated from any form of comfort. My father never missed an opportunity to remind us how disgusting and worthless we really were as if I ever could have forgotten. He would scream that he could kill any one us in a second and no one would even miss us. I started drinking heavily and doing drugs very early in life. I tried to kill myself for the first time when I was eight years old. I ended up in a hospital and then a state home for troubled boys for several months but eventually found my way back "home". By the time I got back I learned that my younger brother Derrick had an "accident" and had passed away. I have no proof there was foul play, but he was only five, so it's very possible/likely that his life was ended at the overzealous hands of my father. The twin he left behind, Ty, was never the same after that. Apparently when my father came looking for a victim that night Ty and Derrick had switched beds, so when he picked Ty's bed Derrick was in it. Ty always blamed himself for Derrick's death whether it was an accident or not. I pushed myself through a few more years in a drug induced haze. I finally left home after my father hit me so hard that I lost partial vision in my left eye. I was 12 and lived on the streets. I hooked for drugs or money for drugs. It was all I knew how to do. I just couldn't go home. Trevor was born a little after I left and Ty gladly took on the father role he'd never known. He took care of him completely. He loved him and would do anything for him. In a way I think Trev filled the void Derrick had left. Ty got caught stealing diapers and food from a Safeway once and a cop brought him home. There were no formal charges for shoplifting, but the punishment he got was worse than any court could dish out. Trevor was terrified of our father to the point where he developed terrible stutters that drove the man crazy. He also started wetting the bed and having night terrors after my father's first sexual encounter with him. My father would beat him senseless for the crime, belt him, and call him a nasty little sh-t. Ty always did his best to protect him, but he couldn't always stop it. My father severely beat and raped Ty almost constantly. Trevor was spared for the most part thanks to Ty. He was a rock. I did nothing. Nothing. I was heavy into drugs and I wasn't home much and I feel so god awfully guilty for not being there for them. We were always told if we ever tried to get help or talked to the police we would go to prison or he would kill us. I believed it. We all did. I knew if a cop showed up at that door and didn't take him away for good on the spot he'd kill one or both of my little brothers. And what cop would believe a homeless drug addicted delinquent. A criminal.

Ty got very sick when he was about 14. We found out it was leukemia and he died when he was just 16 years old. I actually envied him for being able to escape. For a while I thought it was selfish to leave Trevor behind, but I realized I had done the exact same thing. By the time I was 19 I had lost two brothers. Trevor ran away and took his baby sister with him not long after Ty's passing. I think he realized he would never survive on his own in that trailer. Trev and Emma are safe where they are now. Trev has become a selective mute as a result of the trauma and is dealing with some severe psychological disturbances. I guess he is working with counseling services and is getting good help. He and Emma were separated when they were placed. I'm 24 now and my goal is to someday get my act together and be able to take care of them. If I could go back I would have been there when they needed me most, but since I can't I hope to be there for them now.

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Child Abuse Story From Victoria1

by Victoria
(Ontario, Canada)

From Child to Youth: 
Ever since I was 6 years old I have been physically and emotionally abused throughout my life. I am currently a 16 year old female, and the abuse has stopped for a year because I dont see my dad anymore as im too afraid the process will start over again. Its hard to fit 10 years of abuse into a few paragraphs but I'll try.

It all basically started when my mom left my dad, thats when I was scheduled certain days for a certain parent. I was like a ping pong, back and forth to each house every few days. I feared going to my fathers house, everytime he drove me there I would shake, because deep down I knew if I made one small mistake over there, I was done. I tried my best to please him, but I guess I never did. If I were to speak in a wrong tone, or say something off no matter how many times id go in a corner, cry and say sorry over 100 times, my dad would beat me. He would call me the most vulgar names out there, take a wooden spoon and hit me all over my body with it. Id have to change for gym at school and people would always ask me why I had funny shapes of bruises on my body. Specifically, my thighs. My mom didnt know much of it, but sometimes it would get really bad. Id bleed or miss chunks of my hair. I'd cry myself to sleep and eventually I started to cut my wrists and steal. I hated my life. I tried to commit suicide but stopped myself and called my mom to pick me up.

One year, I went to Nova Scotia at a cottage with my dad his (now ex) girlfriend, and her two kids. I thought it would be fun, until one day. His ex's daughter ruined something special of mine and I got really mad and slapped my door. My dad told me to stay in there til the next day and I wouldnt get food. I thought that was stupid so I thrashed out and slammed my door a few times and kept yelling 'this isnt fair its not my fault." Coincidentally, I slammed the door so hard I heard a dish fall and break. I suddenly knew/had a hunch to what was coming. My dad came and banged on my door. "Get the f*** out of there you stupid b**ch!" He said. I locked the door, I was scared. The banging continued, and I started to yell sorry over and over with tears streaming down my face. my dad continued to yell. "I dont f***ing care! Open this f***ing door NOW!" I said no, because I knew he would beat me. He went outside and tried to climb through a window the size of 2 lined pieces of paper. I saw a spoon in his hand, and told him "Ok daddy ill open it I promise." My dad then said, "alright you f***ing better" So, me being stupid, I did. When I did, my dad pushed me onto the bed and started to beat me worse than he ever had before. I wanted to so badly run out to the beach to where his girlfriend was and run away with them. Noone knew that my dad beat me. He continued to beat me and shove a pillow in my face. I cried and cried saying over and over "daddy im your daughter why are you doing this" and he would always say " you're not my daughter you slut I hate you I wish you were never born you stupid b**ch" eventually after 30 minutes or more, he stopped after the spoon broke over my foot. My hands and feet were covered in blood, my body covered in bruises. I couldnt breath and my head hurt. So did I, inside. I never thought someone that was supposed to love me could do that.

After an hour, he came in and said we were going for a drive. he apologized to me. He always did after hed beat me. He would blame everything on me, saying it was my fault but he was sorry and it wouldnt happen. But it did. It happened for another 3 years. (I was 12 during Nova Scotia)

One day my dad beat me severely, again. I ran away from home at 3am and went to my moms where I now stay everyday. We would cry together because of what my dad did to me. It hurt us both, moreso me. I still keep in contact and see my dad, but I dont spend more than half a day with him alone. I cant. I wont. because of my dad beating me, critisizng me over everything I did and do, I fail at school, I have no trust in others, I hate myself, I take the blame for everything and ive been arrested for stealing. This is just a tidbit of my Child Abuse. Thank-you.

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Child Abuse Story From Rita

by Rita
(New York, USA)

A Child's Innocence Taken Away... 
I told my story before, but never on paper. From what I understand, I was five, which would make my oldest brother 15. I remember him telling me to come downstairs where he slept. I remember us going under the sheets. I felt comfortable yet a little weird but not enough to go upstairs. Then I remember him taking out his penis and I performed oral sex on him. I kept on asking if I could stop I was getting tired, but he kept saying no a little longer. My neck hurt and I wanted to stop. I hate to admit this because it makes me feel so dirty and disgusting inside, but it felt natural at the time to ask him to touch me, if he could put his penis inside me. Of course I am so thankful he said no because that would hurt, he said. Was he not already doing that?

Through the years, I recall smaller things happening like having me under the blanket with him and his girlfriend while he was touching her. He had to be at least 18 years of age then. Another time I was under the bed, they were fooling around, she told my brother I was under there and he said do not move, and they continued.

When I was 10 for some reason it all came back to me. It was strange, but I guess I blocked it out for a while. I quite often felt uneasy and anxious. I decided this all might just go away if I tell my mom what had happened. I was so scared I did not know if she would be mad or tell me that it was okay because it was my brother. I really did not know what to think but I was so fearful, of course, no one was to know. I started to cry and I could not say it so I hand gestured it telling with whom. I must say I've been through a lot in my life, but even at age 32 that was one of my worst terrifying moments in my life.

She refused to believe it. She told me I was dreaming, that my brother could never do such a thing. I was in hysterics. I could not believe her reaction and the anger she was having towards me. As she yelled at me she said never ever, tell anyone about this and especially your father because he will kill him. Oh my god, what did I do. How could this be happening to me? I just wanted to die! Please God make her stop screaming and crying so I can stop. As she walked away from me, she made this comment to herself hoping that I would not have problems with men someday.

At 13, I could not get my mom's comment out of my head. Problems? What does that mean? That I would be afraid to be with a guy? Well I had to find out. I needed to know. I gave my boyfriend my so-called first blowjob and never stopped since. I lost my virginity at 16. That was late compared to my friends. This did not matter anyway because at the point in my life I was considered the blowjob queen in school.

I needed to go to therapy. I was depressed. My mom did not want me to go. She did not want the secret out, remember no one knows. She fought me on it so I cut myself over eighty times on my legs and showed a teacher, who sent me to the hospital for a tetanus shot and to therapy very quick.

Well in short, I confronted my brother in a letter when I was 24, which luckily he did not deny. I no longer own this. I gave it to him. I forgive so I can move on. My brother and I never really spoke of it. He did though cry and did not refuse my letter; he made it clear that he knew I was confronting him.

Today like I said, I am 32 and he is 42. We actually have a nice relationship. Until this day I kept my father protected, not for the sake of my mom or my brother, but because I never wanted to hurt my dad. It bothers me that I did not have the right to tell my dad many years ago. My anger I think today is more towards my mom for protecting the wrong kid. I try not to be bitter for I believe she was also scared and made a very poor decision.

Thanks for listening and to all that have endured any abuse you are not alone.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

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Child Abuse Story From Katrina

by Katrina
(Canada)

I'm not sure if I was sexually abused as a kid but I am in foster care and have been in care for 3 years now and am 14 years old. My dad has been in jail for 2 years and tried to commit suicide but he wrote a letter before ending up in the hospital and it said he molested me and two other girls. I don't know. I hope he didn't because I don't remember but that's my story and I love my new family more than anything and I am as happy as can be.

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Child Abuse Story From Beckii

by Beckii
(United Kingdom)

It all started when my mum was in hospital after having an operation I would go to my step mums house ( she wasn't really my step mum but I called her that as she was like a mum to me) I would go at about 9am and stay till 10pm everything was fine until we had gone to pick her boyfriends son up he saw me and looked me in a strange way I didn't think anything of it at first until a few days later when he started to stroke my leg I pretended I had to go to the toilet to get away from him luckily when I had come back he had moved but later that night he came and sat next to me again everyone else was upstairs watching a movie I had stayed downstairs because he had told them me and him were going to get to know each other after they had been up there half an hour he forced himself on me and started to grope me he was kissing me so I couldn't shout anyone I tried to push him away but he was too strong he grabbed my hand and forced it down his trousers and made me rub his penis covered my mouth up with his other hand then started to whisper things into my ear like "that feels good" eventually I managed to get my hand out and I hit him in the face he then grabbed me round the neck and told me that if I ever did that again or told anyone about what had happened he would kill me he went upstairs to watch the movie with them and I heard him tell them I had gone home so I did.

The next day I went round after my dad had left to visit my mum as I walked in the door I heard a voice say "its just us two today they have gone to a friends house till 4pm" he then laughed and walked through to me grabbed my hair and pulled me upstairs to his room he pushed me on the bed and ripped my clothes off I didn't resist as what he said the night before had really freaked m e out he raped me until he couldn't go any more he left me there alone where I pulled my clothes back on and cried for hours. He came and got me at about half past three so that they didn't know suspect anything when they got back he repeated what he had said the night before about killing me if I told anyone and he spent the rest of the day upstairs.

My mum came out of hospital the next day so I made up that I had to look after her whilst my dad was at work so I didn't have to see him he left later that week and I felt safe again but he had taken my freedom away from me. It was like I was chained to a post I could't tell anyone otherwise he would come after me.

I started going back up there again everything was normal until one day my step mum had gone shopping in town and wasn't going to be back for a few hours I was sat watching t.v whilst her boyfriend was fixing the bathroom sink he shouted me up to help him so I went up but he wasn't in the bathroom he was in his bedroom naked waiting for me I asked what he was doing and he replied "exactly what my son did" I turned to get away but the grabbed me from behind and forced me onto the bed be made me perform oral sex on him and he raped me anally and vaginally I cried the whole way through it I though my suffering had gone but it had only just begun. After he had done he got dressed and said "my son said you were a good f**k and he was right" I looked at him with my tear filled eyes and quickly looked away again. Then he went down stairs and left me just like his son did I went down after I had put my clothes back on and he was laid on the sofa "come on lay next to me" he said I refused and sat in the chair at the other end of the room he didn't take his eyes off me for a full ten minutes so I went and locked myself in the bathroom until my step mum got back I made her think I wasn't well so she could take me home he came in the car with us so I couldn't say anything.

I didn't go up there for a few weeks I was too scared after what happened but my dad made me one day and it just so happened to be the worst day to be up there. My step mum was away in scotland seeing her family and him and his son were there I tried to walk out when I saw them and the way they were looking at me but his son ran up and grabbed me I tried to get away but it was no use his dad had got up and pulled my clothes off whilst his son held me down I shouted kicked and punched but eventually I got tired and I couldn't scream anymore they said horrible things things I don't want to repeat but they both took it in turns to rape me there was nothing I could do to stop them it went on for hours but finally they both got tired and walked away I quickly got dressed, ran home and locked myself in my room and thats when I started to cut myself.

Eventually my step mum and her boyfriend broke up and he moved out I rarely go up there now because when I do I get flash backs I still to this day haven't told my step mum or my family I was 11-12 when this happened I still see them in town or on the street and they look at me the same evil way they did when they raped me.

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Child Abuse Story From Jack

by Jack
(Myrtle Beach, South Caroline, USA)

My parents were never married to each other. This was because my dad was already married but he was getting a divorce which since he had kids took longer to get out of the relationship than he'd planned. I was born in Germany, but soon after my birth my mother and I moved to the United States while my dad stayed in Germany.

My life was pretty normal. I had a nice home and a caring mother. When I was about 6 years old my dad was shot and killed by his wife. I never got to meet him...my mom lost it after that, but things didn't completely come to an end till my great grandpa was shot and killed by his wife. My mother seemed to lose interest in me after that. She began locking herself up in her room.

When I was about 8 years old she had found herself a boyfriend. He was a short man but he looked as if he was a bar brawler.

After him and my mom married he started abusing me and my mom. If I did something bad he would pick me up by the neck and yell at me. He would beat me with his belt if his day at work wasn't so good. He put out his cigs on my neck. He screamed at my mom a lot and he would hurt her badly. He also forced my mother to have sex with him. They would have sex in front of me. My stepdad cheated on my mom many times as well.

My mom started doing drugs such as acid. One day she was high on acid in her room while my stepdad was at work. She called me to her bedside and she looked at me and said, "I see your father in you" then she reached up and touched my face then she lowered her hand till she was rubbing my balls with her hand. Then she told me to lay on the bed and take my clothes off...I did so and she gave me oral sex and made me give her oral sex....

As I got a little older she started doing more to me. She started having sex with me and if I fought back she'd hurt me...when she did this she called me by my father's first name. She started doing this to me when I was 9 and she stopped doing this once I ran away with the love of my life at the age of 16. I am 21 now.

I hate her so much!!! I wish both my mom and my stepdad would die!!!

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Mark Part 3

by Mark
(Amherst, Massachusetts, USA)

In earlier posts (see Part 1 and Part 2 of Mark's story) I talked about the beatings I suffered in the name of discipline. Despite how painful these were, I think that it was the accompanying psychological and emotional abuse that are the real source of the difficulties I have relating to people and the depression that I suffer from.

It was scary enough to be standing in front of my mom practically naked, knowing that shortly I would be kicking and screaming as she beat me with a wooden spoon. But to feel the anger and hostility in her voice as she yelled at me, telling me that I was worthless, ungrateful and this time I was going to get a spanking that "would really teach me a lesson and that I would not soon forget", that would make me shake with fear.

It is that fear, that fear, that has stuck with me. I do not want to get yelled at like that again, so I always feel like I am walking on eggshells around people in authority.

She would also use humiliation and embarrassment as part of the punishment. I was spanked bare bottom in front of friends, relatives, even on the beach and in stores. Once when I was around eight, for reasons I do not know, I got into the habit of not changing my underwear. Well, my mom finally became tired of it and decided that she would make sure that I started to get changed at night. I had to bring my new clothes downstairs, and in front of my parents and my brothers, I had to take off all my clothes. Before I could get dressed, I had to ask permission to take the dirty clothes upstairs and to get dressed when I came back down. It seemed like an eternity standing naked in front of them as I awaited their permission. This went on for almost a whole week before my mom asked if I had learned my lesson and would get changed every night. I was so embarrassed I stared at the floor the whole time and just mumbled if they said anything to me.

The wounds and pain from the physical abuse are gone, but there are still deep wounds from the emotional and psychological abuse.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Jaye

by Jaye
(USA)

I'm just now realizing that what I went through as a child and teenager was considered abuse. I wasn't hit or fondled, but I was told I was "ugly", "annoying" and "nothing special" on a daily basis. Both at home and at school. For years I've fallen into deep depression at the most innocent of criticism or by men's rejection and have often thought about suicide. I push people away, can't get close and when I try and open up, I just get told that my problems are nothing, just like when I was younger. My parents to this day do not want me to show any sadness even though my heart is perpetually broken, yet want me to feel bad when they do. I just don't know how to feel, behave or cope. The only thing I do know is I want to be happy, have friends, and live a normal life.

---

Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Cassandra1

by Cassandra
(England, United Kingdom)

Worry: 
I was ten years old. My parents had just split up. And my mum was trying to make up for lost time if you get my meaning. So I had to stay over at her mates house. I didn't mind because they was mates, I had knew them for three years. I trust them.

One night I stayed over and it was just me and the 13-year-old boy and the sister. We was watching a film. The boy put something over us. Then it got weird. He started to feel me up. I didn't say something, hoped that he would stop. He did when my mum came to make us a drink. I thought it was over, but my mum told me I was going to stay again. I was scared. I went in the house. Then the boy took me to the park with his sister. Then it got weird again. He told me we was going to do real dares. Then he started to feel me up again. When his sister was in a shop then he told me he has always loved me.

We got in the park. We started the games. It was fun, childish dares at first. Then he told me to kiss him. I said no. He made me do it, and he pulled my pants down in front of his sister. She just laughed. Then the boy turned to his sister and pushed her against the wall, started to kiss her. I was shocked to see she did nothing to stop it. I rushed back to the house.

I did not tell my mum. I had to stay over that night. It was horrible. You see, they came back. The sister told me the boy had asked me out. Then she ran out the room before I could ask her. Minutes later, the boy came back in the room, started to tell me we was going out. I was so confused. He told me because I was his 'girlfriend' I had to make him happy. So he put his hand down my pants, then he put his hand up my top, then pushed me on the bed. I tried to run but he didn't let me. But before he could rape me, I pushed him off me. Then he told me to let him put his hand in me. I said no. He told me if I don't he will tell every one at school I was a slut and he said he will move next to me and I had to let him do want he wanted to do to me or else.

The next day I was so scaced. I not tell no one for 8 months because he goes to my school, so I had to see him every day. I did tell someone but they did nothing to him, let him carry on talking to me. It got so bad I started to take overdoses trying to kill myself. Now I am 13 years old and my parents never look at me the same way. And the boy still goes to my school.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Mary4 Part 4

by Mary4
(Oregon, USA)

There were several things my mother did that I considered pure torture. Besides being paraded around in front of people nude, which I hated, she did one thing to me that really upset me. She would either start masturbating me or licking me and then when she knew I was close to having an orgasm she'd stop, tell me that was enough for now and walk away. Later, I'd say an hour or so, she'd repeat the process stopping just as I was getting close to orgasm. This would be repeated several times over the next few hours until I would reach out and grab her hand back as she tried to stop or try to push her head back down. She'd pull away and wait for me to ask her to continue. She'd tell me if I wanted it I'd have to ask nice. She'd literally make me beg her to finish me. I'd be so frustrated by the constant stimulation and stopping that I would lay there and beg her lick me. When she finished me I'd be filled with relief, only to be followed by total disgust and shame at myself for wanting it and begging her for it.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From AnonymousL

by AnonymousL
(Location Undisclosed)

My child abuse story is very awful and it is unclear to me still. When I was around 6, my mom got a boyfriend who repeatedly raped and beat me, abused me emotionally, and used horrible ways to punish me. My mom was struggling and we needed somebody to help her with the bills, even if he was horrible.

I forget some of the abuse since it's so horrible. I don't remember anything before age 14 and have big memory lapses. Anyway, my mom was already mean to me. She usually yelled and screamed at me. When he came, my world was destroyed.

I remember when I was 15 and tried to runaway from home and he caught me. I was so terrified. As punishment, he used inanimate objects as sexual tools and tied me down and beat for his enjoyment. Some of it's so horrible it's hard for me right now to think about it, because I've always tried to avoid it, even now.

Once, I was so terrified that I was afraid I was going to die if I came home. So I told a student. He told a teacher who didn't believe me or him because they were so nice to everybody else. I was 14.

Sometimes I'd have bruises in my groins and thighs and I'd try to hide it by wearing long shirts and pants. Whenever I even mentioned the subject to my mom, she would scream and yell at me.

I was really an oddball in my class (I'm now 22) and my friends would make fun of me since I usually forgot things and always wore long clothes during the summer. I got really mad if anybody made fun of me and I'd yell at my friends if they did.

I now suffer from DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder, formerly called Multiple Personality Disorder {MPD}) and have 3 other disorders. This is because I am a survivor of sadistic abuse, an extreme form of abuse. I am in college and am struggling to not have a suicide attempt every day. I'm functioning but it's hard. I've not remembered all of the memories yet, and they are some I've not even told my therapist.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Karen W

by Karen Weaver
(Dublin, Virginia, USA)

Living in a small country town was rough. Everyone knew everybody, including everyone's business. Except my family's. Our family has a lot of "dirty little secrets". The secrets for me started when I was 7. One person I looked up to did the unspeakable.

One day, it was during the week, I remember. My parents were at work. My brother pulled me into one of the bathrooms at our home, telling me he wanted to talk to me. Trusting him, I followed. The door closed behind me. This day, my horror started. He made me pull down my pants, where he did the same, exposing himself to me. He made me sit on the floor towards the back of the bathroom where no one could see through the window. He began touching me in places a brother should not have been touching his little sister. He was also fondling himself at the same time. This became a daily routine almost. He never penetrated me, but, the scars are just as bad. Because of what he did to me, I began having a lot of problems.

When I was 9, I started running away. Anywhere was better than being at that house. When the police would bring me home, I would be grounded, which almost terrified me. I was afraid of waking up with him in my room, which I did a couple of times. I began having sleep issues that still carry through to this day, 29 years later. I would tell him I didn't want to do what he wanted. But, he didn't care. He made me do it anyway. Because of my acting out, I began being abused as well by my stepmother. My dad was an over-the-road truck driver and was never home. My stepmother would beat me so bad, there were days and nights, countless days and nights, where I couldn't even lay on my back from the whelps and bruises across my back, legs, and buttocks. 6th grade, I failed P.E. because I would not dress out because of the bruises.

My brother was still abusing me through this whole timeframe. A girl named Connie, who was a friend of my other brother's sister, tried to get me to go to the police. I was terrified because if they sent me back home, I would have been beaten even more. The beatings would stop if my dad was home though. So, I just dealt with it and kept my mouth shut. In my town, that was the safest thing to do.

When I was 11, my stepmother humiliated me by taking me to the gynaecologist to find out if I was still a virgin. I believe it was just another ploy to embarrass me. It worked. In my final year of being at home, I ran away 37 times. Anywhere was better than there. After the last time, they put me in a youth facility in Bossier City, Los Angeles. I was there for a couple of months. Then, they sent me back home. The abuse started again from my stepmother. My brother had moved out by this time. So, after a few weeks of being beaten by my stepmother, I ran away again. This time, I never went back. I went into a group home in Shreveport, LA. I fell in with a couple of girls there and got into more trouble. By this time, the abuse I suffered at the hands of my brother and stepmother had taken its toll on me and I slipped into the abyss. I felt like I was on a fast track to nowhere. We ran away from this group home, only to land right back at the youth facility in Bossier. I had already started using drugs by this time.

After several trips in and out of this youth facility, I went to a group home in Ruston, LA. It was a very lax atmosphere without much supervision. Me and a girl from New Hampshire decided we would be better off on our own, so, one night, we went out our window and disappeared into the night. That was my last night in a group home. When they finally caught us, I went into a facility called LTI. I remained there for 6 months, until I went into foster care in New Orleans. I stayed there for about 6 months. I ran away from there. That was my last night in Louisiana.

I went out to California because I had found out my real mother was out there. I found her and she hooked me up with a guy who beat me on a daily basis. He was an alcoholic and drug addict, as was my real mother. This was my introduction to IV drugs.

I used drugs all the time just so I could cope with the abuse from the man who claimed he loved me. I began to think this was how love was supposed to be. After 2 years of abuse from him, I tried to get out by going to my mother. She told me she had no kids and told me to get off her porch. Once again...no one to turn to.

So, I hit the highway and landed in Buffalo, New York, where I met my ex-husband. He loved his alcohol. When he drank brandy, he got very mean. He beat me when I was pregnant with our oldest child. Here I was again, stuck in an abusive cycle. I lived with this through three pregnancies and 7 years. When my oldest son was barely a year old, my ex and I moved back to Louisiana so I could try and build a relationship with my family. That was a huge mistake.

I was 21 years old. Shortly before my 22nd birthday, I decided it was time to unload the baggage I held onto for so many years. I was tired. Tired of being depressed. Tired of all of it. So, I decided to tell my parents what my brother did to me. Even though they had my other brother tell them what he witnessed, they still called me a liar. At that point, I knew there was no chance of me building any kind of relationship with them. So, we moved back to NY for my own sanity. I also knew that since they didn't believe me about him, there was no way my father would believe me about his wife. So, I just kept my mouth shut, once again. I was beginning to think I would never be able to be free and start healing.

After 6 years of abuse from my ex, I met another man who at the time was just a friend. He and I grew closer and I finally got the strength to leave my ex. This man ended up being my husband and we are still together to this day. He helped me work through this. He helped me get the strength to confront my abuser and warn his new wife, who has kids. As I did this, I felt the weights lifting. I told this man I remembered what he did to me and he KNEW what he did to me. Naturally, his new family doesn't believe it. His sister-in-law all of a sudden became very hostile towards me, and her 20-year-old daughter sent me an email with some strong profanity. Naturally, he denies all of it. But, he and I both know the truth and one day it will catch up with him and bite him in the rear. My stepmother...well, I waited too long and will never be able to confront her because she is now dead. People thought I was cruel because when I found out she was dead, I danced around my living room singing ding-dong the witch is dead. She had NO right to lay a hand on me, and my brother had no right to do what he did to me.

Since I have dealt with all of this, I have been clean from drugs and alcohol. I still have difficulty sleeping. I sleep with a gun under my pillow. Even though I am starting to heal, the scars will always be there.

Thank you for the opportunity to tell my story. My brother and my sister have threatened me, saying I am harassing my brother with me finally confronting HIM. I told my brother's new family I had every right to tell everyone what he did to me, and will continue to tell anyone who would listen.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Laura3

by Laura
(Location Undisclosed)

Darkness: 
My parents were killed when I was 4. I was sent to live with my only living family, my 25-year-old cousin Corey and his wife Taylor. Corey, well it suffices to say, harbored a strong dislike for me. The day I moved in, it started. First with a slap, or a bruising grip, but quickly elevated to full-fledged beatings with belts, kicks, and his baseball.

Taylor didn't like me much either, she took every opportunity she could to put me down and insult me. Once when I was 10, she grabbed my arm and stuck it on the hot stove burner and wouldn't take it off. I still have the scar from it.

Another time when I was 6, Corey took my head and shoved it under the water in the bathtub until I passed out. My cousin took my virginity when I was 8. I slept in the basement on the floor. The light bulb down there never worked, so it was always dark...I am still horrified of the dark. I just can't trust it.

I finally got out when I was 12, after Corey shoved me off the roof while I was trying to fix the air conditioner. I wound up with both of my legs broken, a skull fracture and a broken arm.

I am now 16 and recovering still. I live with my totally cool adoptive parents, Steph and Mark. I still have a little trouble sometimes. I am really jittery and can't sleep without a night light, and I have an irrational fear of stoves and I'm a little afraid of water. They adopted me when I was 14. It took me a year to start trusting Mark enough that I could be calm around him. I haven't really ever talked about this to anyone.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Anonymous Girl

by Anonymous Girl
(Location Undisclosed)

I am now 22 and I have reason to believe I was sexually abused as a child. As a child I feel I was unaware of the happenings and my subconscious must have blocked these memories. As I got older, late teens, is when I first remember learning about sexual abuse and this is when it started....it has haunted me ever since.

I began to have these vague memories and nightmares. I began to remember as a child, wondering if my actions were normal for a child. As a grown woman, I have suffered with self-esteem issues to degrees where I criticize myself and feel down. I have issues with intimacy and extreme difficulties with trust. This has been very unfortunate as I have learned to trust him (my boyfriend) very well but when it comes to intimacy I have my moments when I am very withdrawn. I feel trust and intimacy are my biggest stressors.

My story occurs at a young age, although I have difficulty recollecting the age but it was before grade 4. I used to visit my step-grandfather and grandmother at their apartment on weekends. I remember times when I would go into the basement to help him with duties as they were tenants and I loved handy work. It is there where we were alone that he would touch me. I remember as a child I would crawl into bed with my parents after a bad dream and one weekend I crawled to my step-grandfather and told him I had a bad dream. He put me on top of him so our genitals were touching and I fail to recall whether my grandma was in the bed. All night long I could feel it and all night I recall wondering if it was wrong.

The last memory I had of him was when we were alone and watching TV. I remembered sexual acts on the TV and he asked me to stand on the couch as he stood in front of me and exposed himself as he laid my hand on his genitals and asked me to touch him. At this point I said no, and all I recall is leaving. I have blocked those memories since.

I have recently discovered that my step-grandfather has actually been charged twice for sexually abusing little girls.

I live every day with these dreams and memories that I have blocked but every time I encounter sexual abuse education they come back. I am at a loss and I don't know what to do. I wrote this story because I don't want to keep it in my head any longer. The only person I have confided in is my boyfriend of 5 years who supports me and loves me every day. He has been a great help, but I wonder if there is anything else I should do. I have kept quiet for the love of my family.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kate

by Kate
(Chicago, Illinois, USA)

I'm 12 years old. I live in Chicago with my six cats and two sisters and mom. When I was little, I always thought that my dad would never do what he did, never thought that he would ruin my life. When I was 10, in the fifth grade, my dad cheated on my mom, not with girlfriends, but with prostitutes. My mom forced him to go to therapy, with a woman who took his side. Then, he continued to do it, but me and my sisters at the time had no idea what was going on.

One time, my sister wrote out a contract, that he could never do the bad things again. Three days later, he broke the contract and my sister ripped it up.

A week before Christmas, my dad dragged me to his grandparents' house, against my will, to go see "A Christmas Carol". I told them that I didn't want to go, and kept on refusing. "I was like ten, so what do you expect?" After a half hour of saying no, they began to yell at me. Some quotes include:

"You're selfish and sick!"
"You'll never amount to anything."
"If someone doesn't say the most positive things in the world to you, you'll fall down crying."

They continued to do this, until my dad called my mom and called her a **** and *********. Then, I was allowed to go home, and they told me to go to my cousin's birthday, and I agreed.

The B-Day went by without incident.

Then, at Christmas, everything seemed normal. I was in the backyard, and there were a MILLION ducks. I went inside to get duck feed from my grandfather, and found him in the bathroom. He was holding my sister's her favorite doll, over the toilet, threatening to flush him down, something that my sister has nightmares about. She was cowering in the corner, bawling. When I asked him what was happening, he pushed me down and said, "NOT ANOTHER WORD!" Terrified and confused, I ran outside and cried underneath a pine tree. Eventually, I returned inside to aid my sister, when I saw them forcing her into their bedroom, and screaming at her. Then, they came for me. They began to yell and scream, and I had no idea why. I told them to shut up, even though my dad told me never to say that to authority. They then grabbed me by my arms, and dragged me into our room. They threw mw onto the bad and began attacking me with questions.

"What did your dad do to your mom?"
"You should never love your mom again."

Then, they left me alone, and I noticed my sister sneaking out. She was halfway out the door and they grabbed her phone and slapped her. Then they called my mom and called her a ****, a ********, a******, and many other swears that I never knew before. I was taken home, without self-esteem.

The next summer, my father got a court order, to force us to go to South Carolina with them. If my mom rescued, she would be arrested, so we had to go. On the second day, out of five, my dad said I could sleep in. A few minutes later, my grandfather came in and told me to get up. He said that I had to go into the pool or go to the beach, and not to lay in bed. I became angry, and told him he was not my father. He stared screaming at me, so I fled upstairs, and hid in the bathroom for an hour. Suddenly, there was a knock at the locked door, ordering me to get out. I tried to sneak into another room. I was scared out of my mind. Then my GF charged up at be, pinned me against the wall, and nearly punched me in the jaw, if I hadn't scrambled away. I ran downstairs, to find six of the ten adults chasing me. They pinned me in the corner of the room, and they slapped me to the ground.

Another time, I was forced to go to a water park with my dad. The first day went without incident, but when we awoke, the GM and GF were strangling in the room!! Scary...they made us act like it was all normal...OMG!!
When we returned home, my mom was bringing out our bags, when he got out and severely twisted her arm. He then drove off to the cops, and told them that she as choking him. He denies this ever happened, and that my mom was choking him. SCARY. I still have nightmares about it.

One time, my dad tried to break into our house, and I had to beat him with a broom to keep him from grabbing me. He does not do drugs and never drinks so he was sober when doing this. One New Years Eve, my dad broke in again, and wouldn't leave.

This Christmas, he got ANOTHER COURT ORDER FOR ME TO SEE MY GRANDPARENTS. He drove us there, and I refused to go inside. He took my sister in, and then beat me up. I tried to run away, but he kept grabbing me. He also purposely blocked my carotid artery, so my brain wouldn't get blood. He also flipped me upside down, and I fell to the ground. Then the police were called, and they blamed me. My dad took me home, at their orders, and began discussing American history. American history? He then told me that I was a liar, and owed him.

My mom is a really good woman, and has tried to help us in every situation. My dad is suing for sole custody, and my cat just died. My third sister is dead!!!!! Now, all I think about is death, sweet blissful death. I constantly utter "kill me" or "murder me" in soft whispers when I'm alone. My aunt has cancer, my grandmother seizures, and I'm failing school. I still have bruises from the Christmas attack, four months later.
Kate, nearing her thirteenth birthday

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Christina O

by Christina O
(Fort Worth, Texas, USA)

AKA the bad preacher's kid: 
Life is very fuzzy from the beginning. I remember so much but I can't seem to put it in order. I was adopted at the age of 2 1/2 years. My birth mom, as I knew her growing up, described from my adopted parents, was a drug head. My dad an alcoholic and headed straight to hell. I remember someone trying to drown me in the bath tub for not giving them a blow job. I can't see the face. I can only feel the grip they have on my face to keep me under water...I have now met my birth family, and to this day nobody can answer my question of who this might have been. But the true abuse that I can bravely voice and not hide any more is what I experienced after I was adopted....

I remember my oldest brother shoving his c**k down my throat and getting a pubic hair stuck in my teeth, my youngest brother that is now a preacher!!! Hahaha I laugh and that fool and the s**t that he has caused, the one person he thinks he can hide all his s**t from, is the ONE that I hope sends his a** to hell...Jeremy would come into my room, close the door, act like he was gonna play Barbie with me and then tell me to pull all my clothes off, face the closet, and he would fondle me and I could hear him jerking off...funny that I didn't know what all that was then. I didn't even know that it was bad.

My dad was a preacher. My brothers were 16 and 13, and I was 4 so I never thought that anything they were doing would hurt me, until the day that I told my mom of my brother coming in to play Barbie. And then the events that followed: My dad tied me up to the bed with my jump rope and beat me. His exact words were: "You have ruined this family. You are nothing but a liar. I will beat you til you can't even sit in your chair and can't even walk!" And yes, that is what he did. I couldn't even sit on the toilet. When I tried to put toilet paper on my legs so I wouldn't get blood on my bed, I got beat again...sucks, I know, but the hardest part is over. I confronted my whole family, lost them all, and now look like a fool all over again. Better yet, I CAN NOW BE MYSELF!!!

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Elizabeth

by Elizabeth N
(Australia)

And that was it, the discussing smell, "Jub Jub". I wanted to throw up, to yell, to scream, to strangle him and never let him take a breath again.

He took away your breath once, your ribs where so sore, your arms glued to your sides. You wanted so badly to close your eyes to sleep, to forget, to never have accepted his "goodnight kiss." Your loyalty sickens you. You won't open your mouth, too scared, and he meant well. He just didn't know you didn't like it. He was only having fun, he loves you. It all twists in your stomach, the bruises on your legs become too much, you need to be clean; you need to get the smell away. The bath water is barely hot enough, but it's the best you can do. You get out and your skin is red raw, it doesn't matter though, because you're not so dirty anymore, and a slight amount of relief washes over you. For now you're safe. You don't sleep though your eyes just can't close, your head just can't stop pounding.

The next day you learn how to lie, how to pretend you're happy. Skills which become your life from then on. He took away your ability to trust. You learn to shut out, and never let anyone in. Sadness flattens you, just like he did.

After awhile you learn how to shut it all out as well, you learn that you can protect yourself, you lie to yourself and it all goes away. Your memories are locked behind a door that you won't let your head open, to you it never happened. But denial can be a horrible thing, especially when someone opens that door without your permission.

Your parents jabber happily about his visit, well you think they do because you've shut down, floating in the darkness. You don't know what to do, the memories come flooding back. His touch, his smell, everything hits you, and you fall. You can't cry, you can't scream, you can't do anything, because you only just found out what really happened. You try to shut it back out. You can't. It won't go away this time.

You let your trust slacken and realise it all to him, because he loves you and he'll fix it. But he doesn't, he doesn't say more than a few words, and your head just doesn't understand. You need his protection, but it's never offered. You become angry and scared, you whisper, "Help me" into the fading light of the room. You leave, and spend some time with him, and for a moment everything is ok, because you're in his arms. Loneliness wraps itself around you as your part, you're worthless. You want to slice yourself, and you do. For the first time it does barely enough, your head's still spinning. You want to show emotion you want to let it out but your body doesn't let you. Your heart's going to beat out of your chest at the rate it's going. It's the only part of you that's showing anything other than the dull ache of your leg. You're numb.

He broke into your safe house, and now you're too scared to leave the room. Trapped in memory and fear. He broke you again.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Heath

by Heath
(New Jersey, USA)

It all started when I was nine years old. My parents got divorced, so I had the choice to go live with my mom or my dad (at the time I was living with my dad...my mom had left). My dad had been going through some hard times, we all were.

Me and my sister are not close at all. She’s perfect, hair body, grades, pretty much her whole life is my dream. Me and my life have been really hard. Not good grades, not perfect body...but my dad didn’t see how hard I was trying so I’d bring home a bad paper from school and he’d throw me on the ground, kick me, hit me, pull me by my hair. All I could think was I didn’t think anything was this bad to make him do this to me. I kept thinking it was my fault. So, a few months later I decided to go live with my mom. My dad didn’t like that too much and I’m suffering it now. So by my 13th birthday, my mom had me selling drugs for her and giving up my body for her addiction.

One day I finally had enough. I told her I wasn’t going to do this no more and if she made me I would tell. I got the s*** kicked out of me that night.

So for my 15th birthday, I decided to get away from everyone and visit my cousins for Fourth of July and spend the weekend with them. They thought that was fine...little did I know I was never going to see my mom again. I was stuck living with my cousins. I guess in the long run my life turned itself upside down and I’m much happier now than I have been in years. I’m so grateful for my cousins taking me in.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Katie2

by Katie
( Lakewood, Colorado, USA)

It all started about 9 months ago when my parents split apart. I didn't think much of it being I was 12 so it was just normal for me. Until I realized my dad's anger problems and his alcohol problem. My mom had begun to threaten me and she begun to tease and harass me. But then around other people she acted not nice but just normal. She would get on my back for anything I did. Even if it wasn't wrong.

A couple months later I began to cut myself. When the school found out and told my mom...she didn't care, well she did, until we got home then it was just "I hope you cut deeper next time." Cutting myself was what set my dad off. From that night on he began to harass me and hit me, threaten me...it was horrible. At times I would beg him to just stop hitting, punching and kicking me. I begged him to stop but he didn't.

About a week later I called the Covenant House and they reported my dad. The police came to my school the next day and I told them everything!!! They arrested my dad but let him go home and they just "talked" to my mom. And didn't find anything wrong with her. She was just too good at hiding what she did. There was a court meeting and I was allowed back at my dad's house...I thought this is it and sure enough...it was. He did it again...hit me, harassed me and he was even more mad and violent than before. My mom kept up her stupid ways with me, and well, now I'm here. I just wanna run away now. I'm only 12...it sucks!! And that's my story....so far.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Carter

by Carter
(Boston, Massachusetts, USA)

The 15-year-old boy trembled as the man touched him, to pull him closer. He thinks that it can't last very long this time because they were in the man's study and his wife would be home soon. He tried to pretend like he enjoyed it as the man kissed him. Tears began to fall from his eyes and he tried to hold them in because he didn't want to make the man mad. He still had bruises from the last time he'd made him mad.

Suddenly, the door came open and the man's wife stepped in. She stopped short as she saw her husband and their son kissing. The boy looked at his mother and turned away quickly because of the look in her eyes. She stormed out and his father followed. He didn't know what his father said to her but he could hear their whispering voices. Then his mother came back into the room with a look that if looks could kill, he would've been dead.

She came up to him and slapped him, hard. She said, "How could you? Did you think it would be fun to try to seduce your father while he had been drinking? You should be ashamed of yourself. I guess you've slept with every girl in your school now and had to move in on your father. You're so lucky I don't send you to boarding school but then you'd probably ruin someone else's life there!" She slapped him again and left out, slamming the door. He didn't know what to do. That was the one person he'd thought about telling so many times but now? He looked up and noticed his father with an arrogant grin on his face. As if he could get away with anything now. He came up to him and lifted his face so he had to look into his father's eyes. His father said, "I told you no one would ever believe you. Your mother knows that you've slept around and she so easily believed me when I told her that you'd tried to seduce me." His father laughed, as if he found that amusing. "If your own mother believes that you're that big of a, hmmm, what's the word? Whore...maybe, but that would be putting it lightly." Then he laughed again. "Come on, dinner's almost ready. We'll finish what we started later tonight." His father kissed again and pulled him out of the study towards the dining room.

That is one of the many memories, but nowhere near the worse, that I have of my father sexually abusing me. There were so many nights where I wished he'd kill me or hit me in the head to knock me unconscious just so I could get relief. My mother never asked me how old I was when I first "seduced" him. I was 10. And we all know how sexy 10-year-old boys are. I don't think she knows how much her words hurt me that day. It was like she was spitting back everything that he'd ever told me.

I had always worried that I had done something to make him do those things to me. When it first started, I didn't know what rape was, or that boys could be raped. We all got warned about the stranger with the puppy, but my stranger with the puppy lived in the house with me. I felt like if my mother didn't believe me, who would?

I had to listen to him tell me how stupid and dumb I was. He'd call me a retard because I stuttered so badly (which usually only got bad when he was around). I took everything he said to heart, like how I'd never get into a good college without his money. No matter what my grades were, they were never good enough. I felt stupid and dumb even though I graduated valedictorian of my class. He didn't even clap at my graduation. I did sleep around, though I'm not proud to admit it. I did drugs. I even tried to run away a couple of times. Nobody ever asked why.

College was my escape, at least until the holidays. I met someone there who changed my life. Her name is Roxanne. The first thing I noticed about her was her Southern accent. She was a like a fireball and she tried to include me in everything with her. We had organic chemistry together and she helped me and I helped her. It was like she saw through my walls I had put up and saw the sadness and the pain. She also introduced me to the greatest gift anyone can receive: Jesus. I had seen she always wore a ring on her left ring finger and I asked her about it. She said that she had gotten it her senior year of high school because she wanted the whole world to see that she had made a promise to Jesus and herself to stay sexually pure until marriage. My parents never went to church so I really didn't know much about God. When she told me how awesome it was to have Christ in your life, I realized I wanted that peace, that joy and happiness she always seemed to have. The only thing stopping me was that I felt like God couldn't possibly forgive me some of the things I had done. I told her that. She said that God doesn't measure some sins greater than others. They are all the same. But would God want someone as broken as me? Or damaged goods, as my father used to call me? She told me yes because if we were all perfect, there would be no need to have God.

I decided that I would accept Christ. It was an amazing feeling. Indescribable. I think I floated on cloud nine until my next visit home and my father brought me back down to reality. Roxanne could tell something was wrong. She said that we all would go through trials that sometimes seem like they're too much to bear. But God has things to happen for a reason. I couldn't figure out why he'd let my father hurt me. What reason was behind it? Then Roxanne looked at me long and hard and said that as a Christian, we had to forgive anyone who hurts us, no matter how hurtful it was. It was like she knew about my dad. And the things he'd done to me.

My story is getting too long so I'll have to finish it later. It felt good to write this part down though.

---

Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Amanda

by Amanda
(Heber Springs, Arizona, USA)

My mom and my dad got divorced when I was 4. My mom got custody and my dad got weekend rights. Things were still good even though they were divorced. We still all got along.

One day, this man knocked on my mom's front door and said his wife kicked him out and he wanted to know if he could stay at my mom's. Things were ok for a year or two. I was in the first grade when my mom started to tell us that we couldn't eat food. She wouldn't let us eat at home so we thought school food was the best thing for us. We finally got to eat. After a little while of lying to my mom about me eating at school, I just gave up and told her how good the food was that day. After that she made us stick our fingers down our throat and make us throw it up as soon as we would get home. So then I figured my dad would make sure we had something to eat on the weekends. I thought it would be alright. When my mom found out from my our other 2 sisters that we ate at our dad's house she would not let us go with him anymore, unless we changed our ways. We tried really hard to please her. But no matter what I did, it wasn't good enough for her.

I can remember one time that my mom asked me if I ate the ice cream. I told her no because I didn't sneak behind her back to eat it. I knew who ate it, but I wasn't going to tell on them. Well, my mom chased me all around the house till I got pinned between the wall and the couch and couldn't move anymore. She took that spoon and started to beat me in the head. I blacked out. I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke up my mom was kicking me in the ribs. I opened my eyes. When I looked up at the ceiling, everything was spinning. When I tried to get up off the ground, I couldn't move. My head hurt so bad. When I finally got up, she let me go to the bathroom. My head was swollen black and blue. It stayed like that the whole summer, so I wasn't allowed to go to my dad's. I couldn't go outside and play with everyone else. When company came over, I had to go and hide in the bedroom.

When I went back to school again the next year I had a new bruise every day. So I was called to the office so they could examine me. They would ask how it happened. I would have to tell them what my mom told me to say. But one day, I forgot and when they asked me more than once I slipped and told them a completely different story. So later on that night at home, DHS came to the house and took me to a foster home. I was so scared. Not for me, but for my twin who had to stay there and put up with it. I slept that night and then the next day we were supposed to go and do stuff. We were leaving when my mom and stepdad pulled up. I left with them. They took me to a mental institution, telling everyone I was crazy. I didn't care what she told them, it was freedom for me. I thought well maybe this way, when I got out, my mom would love me and let me know how much she did.

The last day came at the mental institute. They picked me up and we went and ate as a family. When we got home, things changed again. It was like she missed hitting me. I couldn't at the time figure out what I'd done wrong. I'd been gone all this time, what could I have done wrong.

But then my mom got put in the hospital. My stepdad was at the house with us. He would go around completely naked. Then he would make me and my three other sisters take off our cloths and he would touch us. It was really scary. When my mom got home I told her what he did. She hit me across the face as if I was a liar. No one else would tell her. My stepdad left and later on that night he was really drunk when he got back. He pulled me out of bed and made me sit at the kitchen table. My mom was standing there. I was looking at her for help. When I turned to look at him, there was a barrel of a gun touching my head. I cried and screamed for help. With that gun pointed at my head I knew it was over, so I just quit fighting. I told him to go ahead and shoot me. He pulled back on the trigger and there was no bullet. I fell onto the floor, trying to breath. I was 7 years old. I remember running away. I was hitch-hiking, thinking someone could see the fear in my eyes and pick me up. Anything was better than being with my mom and stepdad. The only car that picked me up was my mom.

My mom sat on top of me when we got home and put hairspray and Dawn dishwashing liquid in my eye. It burned. I tried so hard to push her off of me, but no matter what I did I couldn't mover her. I didn't have the strength or the power to do anything. She locked me in a closet that night, so I couldn't rinse it out. I was up all night long. Then I had to get up and get ready for school. She brought me this outfit to wear so I couldn't go to the bathroom. I got to school and I couldn't even read the board...I was crying, and rubbing my eye. The principal came and got me and we went back to the every day routine. They marked new things on my body. They asked what happened. This time, I couldn't lie. I was afraid if I didn't tell I was going to die. If I didn't tell I was sure they would kill my twin. I saw my mom walking outside. I gave up and said she did it. I begged them not to tell her. I told them that if they did, she would kill me. My mom finally got to the nurses office, and they told her to take me to the doctor, so she did. When we left the doctor's office, she took us home. An hour later, the cops came. I was in a different school than my sisters, and I was afraid I would never see them again. My grandma on my dad's side took 6 of us kids in, two of which was no blood to her. She did that so we would always have each other.

I was finally in a safe place. My grandma asked me if I was hungry. She could tell I was hungry - I was so little. She cooked me dinner. I told her I was tired so I went to sleep. I don't remember anything for a year. I remember eating and sleeping...didn't realize I had been going to school...playing with the neighborhood kids...having a life. Something happened to my grandma, so we moved to live with another family member. I would have nightmares that my mom was going to come and kill me when she got out of jail. My other family member finally asked me why I wasn't asleep. I told her I was tired of having those dreams. It scared me. I asked her if she thought it would be a good idea to write my mom. After a long pause she said it would be ok.

I went to work and asked them if I could use their address so she couldn't know who I was with. They let me. I waited and waited for her to write back. When she did, I no longer had those nightmares of her trying to kill me.

I talk to my mom when I feel like talking to her. I forgive her for what she has done. But I will never forgive my stepdad.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are strictly prohibited.

Child Abuse Story From Alexander

by Alexander
(Location Undisclosed)

WE NEVER HEAL BUT WE SURVIVE: 
To all the children of the world who have suffered these horrific atrocities, you are the bravest survivors of all humanity...while my story is mild compared to many of yours, the effects on me have done their share of damage and ruined my 54 years of life...no law on this miserable planet properly deals with these lowlife, scum perpetrators and no God has ever been there to protect us...I could not help but shed tears for all of you and myself.

My grandfather abused me as a child and it started around age four. He abused many kids, including my mother and sisters...gender meant nothing. I grew up not trusting my parents or other authorities as they let me down and did not keep me safe. In fact, they knew what my grandfather was like and yet they threw me into the darkness. Omission apparently denies any wrongdoings and they thought he was done with these behaviours.

My life has been ruined as I do not trust anyone...sexually I have always been dysfunctional and emotionally I cannot tolerate anyone near me...I have no contact with my family...I am a loner...I am angry and I have bouts of depression....I am lonely and I am sad...I have made a series of bad decisions throughout my life and find myself scared for what little future I have left...I have sabotaged any or most of the good things in my life in order to control events around me...this way I am responsible for my shortcomings and no one can hurt me...memories never go away and we only suppress our feelings...the damage is irreparable and we drift in and out of that reality as we have good days and bad...there is no forgiveness and there is no forgetting.

In conclusion, I wish that the authorities would execute all sexual and physically abusive perverts so that they could never do it again...they are the ilk and repulsive pukes of this universe.

I will come back to this site and tell my story in full.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kellen

by Kellen
(Location Undisclosed)

I've recently realized I've been affected by child abuse: 
I am 23 years old. I've been pretty depressed and reclusive the last few months and am just starting to get back into the swing of things. Reading on the internet recently, I am just now starting to understand the impact that childhood abuse from my family has had on me.

In the past, I have always played it down and was in a state of denial of the severity of its effects. I even joked about it. I guess the people around me didn't see any humor in it, but nobody had ever really spoken up to me about it until now. Reading around on the internet, I've been beginning to realize I fit the bill for just about everything listed. Even with the information right in front of me I was pretty reluctant and it took me quite a while to accept it. I am really sorry to the people who I've unfairly placed my burdens on and hurt in the past.

I have been living with my sibling, and my other sibling just recently moved back home after being away for 5 years. I am very young in my family and never really understood the things that were going on, and have had my share of distractions having been away at school and working for most of the last 5 years. It's being around my other siblings that has really pointed out my own issues I need to deal with. I am so grateful that I have realized this early on and to have the opportunity to get help. I have decided I will do my part to educate myself on the subject. I want to get involved in the community as well, but do not know where to start.

I want to thank you for doing your part to raise awareness in the community about child abuse over the internet, and giving people the opportunity to pursue help. It has really helped me just to know that I am not alone in this and that there are people who can give support.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Senia

by Senia
(Connecticut, USA)

Abuse of the Loved One: 
When I first realized that I was gonna live with my grandmother I never knew what was gonna happen to me. I was given to her when I was 5, and I lived 3 years of a nightmare that still haunts me today. She used to beat me and punish me in a cruel way because I didn't have any money for her alcohol. She almost killed me one night, and a part of me wished she did. Each day I look in the mirror and see all the scars that she has created and I wish that I never survived. To this day I wonder, why has god given me so much hurt to deal with. I am hurting to this day and hoping that no one out there has been hurt like me.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Disabled Survivor

by Kris
(USA)

My abuse was milder than some people on this site. I was abused by three different people. The first instance was when I was 6. I had a babysitter that would hit my sis and put my stuffed animals in the freezer to punish me. I vowed to never do that to a child.

The next instance happened only one time. A cousin molested me when I was 12. I was well developed for a girl my age. Having a CP (Cerebral Palsy?) I did not understand why he did this to me. I don't understand now.

From ages 12-17 I was the victim of very severe bullying. I would be riding my bike and they would chase me. Their favorite thing was to hit me with rocks and footballs while I was on my bike. I know kids can be cruel but it's no excuse to torment anybody.

I just also want to tell people ABUSE ISN"T YOUR FAULT!! You aren't alone. I know that now.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Tabi

by Tabi
(Canada)

18 years of anger: 
When I was 8, my uncle was my best friend. That quickly ended when he decided to force me to perform oral sex on him. Now I have a big problem when people say, "Don't tell anyone, they won't believe you!" because most times it's true. It is in my case.

I held my anger until I was 10, and then I told my father and stepmother. They called Child Welfare on my mother because we told her about it and she said it was all my father's lies and that he corrupted us into saying it all and that's bull crap. I can remember right back to the smell of the car, and all the places he did this to me. I have been living for all these years being told by my mother that I am a liar, and the horrible thing is since I've had kids, my mother is more interested in my life now than before but loves to tell me how to raise my children.

I'm not like her. I won't let anyone get away with hurting my kids. Now here's the stickler. Because I'm a bit lost, I have questioned my uncle recently about why he did this to me and my sister (via Facebook) and he told me he was young and dumb and didn't know what he was doing. HE'S A LIAR! He was 28 years old. I'm 26 years old and I have 3 of my kids living with me and I'm pregnant again. There's no excuse for him. But also, I am tired of feeling every day like I've done something wrong because my mother treats me like crap, so I've printed off the conversation between my uncle and I and I wanted to just send her a copy of it all and then I will feel better and hopefully she will feel stupid but I know that won't be the case because she'll think of someway to say that I've written it or something.

Now I also want something done about the last 18 years of emotional abuse I have gone through, and the emotional damage my kids and my relationships have suffered because of his "young and dumb" stupidity. After all these years, I don't know if I am able to open a case about it. I'm so lost.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Christi

by Christi
(Memphis, Tennessee, USA)

The summer I turned thirteen, the twenty-three-year-old son of a babysitter started showing me interest. He flirted and wrote me letters. Eventually he forced me into sexual intercourse on more than one occasion. I blamed myself and feared telling anyone. At night I would tell myself that God was punishing me and that I was a whore who allowed bad things to happen. I told myself no one would ever want to be with broken goods. I started acting out behaviorally. I wouldn't speak to anyone and people were unsure what was really going on. What compounded the situation was that I'd contracted a sexually transmitted disease from the abuse. I began drinking, skipping school, involving myself in high risk situations, and finally I started secretly cutting myself. My parents decided to place me in an institution for teens with alcohol and drug abuse issues and were finally aware of the sexual abuse that had taken place. Due to my emotional state we decided not to prosecute the perpetrator.

I'm almost thirty now and have yet to feel comfortable in relationships regarding men. Sex is still something that seems so dirty to me, yet in retrospect I wish I'd done something to prevent this man from ever hurting anyone else.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Confused3

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

I recently started seeing a therapist for my depression and low self-esteem. I haven't mentioned this incident to my therapist yet, as I've never really considered that it might have been sexual abuse, but I just wanted to know what other people thought about it.

When I was 8, I was quite a passive and excessively naive child. I was cycling home from a riding lesson one Saturday, about 17:00 (5 p.m.), and decided to go the back way instead of along the main road because it was sunny and the traffic wouldn't be so bad. When I turned into the parking lot between two football pitches, a car pulled up and a man wound down the window and motioned me over. I got off my bike and went over to see what he wanted. He told me that he had to pick up his daughter from her riding lesson, but he wasn't sure where the stables were. It occurs to me now that was a pretty obvious ploy, given that I was wearing riding gear, but at the time it seemed like a pretty innocent question, so I proceeded to give him directions. Then he said that he didn't understand where I meant, and would I get in and show him, he'd give me a lift back to my bike afterwards.

I remember feeling a bit uneasy about getting in the car, but thought that since it was such a public place, and he was an adult and I was always told that adults were right and you should listen to them, and I had this excessive need to please, I thought I should. When I got in the car, he locked the doors, which made me a bit scared, but he said it was because the car wouldn't start otherwise.

He talked to me a bit about riding, then he started rubbing his penis. He said how he really needed to pee, and that was the good thing about being a man, that you could hold it and it would make the feeling go away. Then he undid his pants and took his erect penis out and started rubbing it some more. Then he said that he wouldn't be able to hold it if he was driving at the same time, so he asked me to hold it. I sort of knew that it wasn't quite right at the time, but I wasn't very confident and again, he was the adult, so I just went along with it. Then he asked me if I needed to pee, and did I want him to hold mine for me (I'm female btw). I said no thank you but he reached over anyway and started rubbing me. Then it's a bit of a blur, but I think that somebody must have driven past and he stopped what he was doing and I said I had to go home and he unlocked the door and let me out.

I remember being really scared on the way home, but I never told my parents. I just thought it was something I'd get in a lot of trouble for, and I didn't think they'd really believe me either, given what a public place it was. That was 17 years ago, and I've only thought about the incident twice in that time, and when I think about it the only thing that comes to mind is how lucky I was to get out of that situation with nothing serious happening. But I sometimes do wonder whether the things we don't think affect us and our behaviour, that they are actually the things that have the most power over us.

I have a history of alcohol and drug abuse, self-harm, suicide attempts and have suffered from depression for the past decade. I've never felt like this incident affected me, but recently I can't quite shake the feeling that it's all related, especially since I never talked about it with anyone and probably still evaluate the situation as I would have done at 8 years old. I know that this probably sounds really benign to the other people who have posted in here with stories of repeated sexual and physical abuse and rape, and I am a little ashamed of posting here because of that, but any advice/comments would be gratefully received as I'm scared of bringing this up with my therapist in case she rejects it or me.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From KJA Part 2

by KJA
(Location Undisclosed)

This is the another part of my story, the first time i was raped was assembly day, where the school would hold a event where they teach the younger kids about strangers and saying no. that day after watching that program and hearing about good touch bad touch, i started to think....."there lying, he loves me hes not hurting me, he makes me feel good, hes not a stranger he says he loves me." i started to get upset and a lady looked at me, so i tried to pay attention more and pretend like nothing was wrong. i didn't want them to know, and i didn't want them to tell me that he was a bad guy, cause he was very important to me and i didn't see what he did as wrong. weird maybe but he made me feel good and special, would that all stop if i told, what would happen to him, would the policeman take him away? Would i be taken away too? was i bad? No i wasn't but i didn't know that at the time, i was scared and conflicted. we got let home early that day and we had a break, it was either thanksgiving or Christmas, because it was cold out side. I went straight to his house because no one was home and i was supposed to go there anyway, he was right next door. a big part in my nightmares is the stairs, going down those stairs to the basement he had. It was a nice basement, a bathroom a bed room and the big entertainment space, full of toys and games and the big sectional we napped on, and where most of our touching took place. He was waiting for me down there, sitting in our spot with a Disney movie in. I asked him really harshly ...are you a bad man ? he says, "what do you mean sweety I'm not a bad man." I tell him about the assembly and what they said...then he got really quiet and dark. i was still on the stairs and he came up to get me, he asked me if i thought he was bad, and he tried to kiss me, i pulled away from him, he was being scary and i tried to run up the stairs, i wanted my mommy. In my dream this is the really scary part, where i think the darkness is going to kill me, the blackness that's takes over the stairs and takes over him. He grabs me before i can get anywhere and he drags me down to the dark room, its very hot in there and I'm scared he's never this mean to me, i want my mommy. when I'm in my dream I'm i can never see his face clearly his face is very dark and just evil. In my memories i see him just fine, he looks sad, he asked me if i was gonna tell my mom on him and i started to cry, so he kissed me and told me not to cry, and i tried to pull away again, and he got angry,so he was angry and forceful when he took my clothes off, it only made me more upset and he started to hit me so id be quiet. he never hit me before i stopped crying and curled into a ball while he undressed, locked the door and turned off all the lights except his lamp. it was so hot in that room he had a heater going and it was so hot. I felt his hands touch and rub my belly and legs...i was scared but when he started touching me and putting his mouth on me, it made me excited and that made him happy/mad for some reason, he got angry and he turned me over so that i was lying on my stomach and my butt was presented to him. he started touching my butt and i was shocked, what are you doing, please stop don't touch me. he was whispering angrily to me and touching me hardly. in my dreams i hear him saying to me, " i love you so much, your making me have to hurt you cause you wanna tell, you know i would never hurt you but look what your making me do, your gonna tell your mom on me, after Ive only been good to you, bought you nice things, spent time with you, held you close, kissed and hugged you. your mine, my boy, my babe, my angel, no one can have you but me, and no one will take you away from me." he said all those things as he raped me for the first time, and i screamed and begged for him to stop. it didn't last long maybe a hour or two, but when he finally stopped and he bathed me and he put my clothes back on for me cause i wasn't moving or responding to him. he kept saying how sorry he was and how much he loved me, and how he was gonna take care of me. when we got back to the entertainment room i still wasn't responding to him so he started stroking me again and whispering horrible things to me. the thing that stuck out most was "if you tell your mommy on me, ill have to kill her and take you away with me, because you will always be mine and i will always take care of you." i didn't tell anyone what he did to me, till i was online chatting with someone i met online. its easier to tell painful things on paper or on screen, a lot different in person, it took a a few months before i told my therapist about the stairs over 10 years later, i don't like telling my story but, i know now that it wasn't my fault and the darkness wont kill me because i have help now. I still have nightmares but there not as bad as before, Thank you all that read this and all that give me support.

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Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Mel

by Mel
(United Kingdom)

I'm 19 years old. I used to live with my mum, dad and two brothers. My dad was an abusive alcoholic and my mum worked most nights in a nursing home. All I can remember about my dad is that he would come into my room at night, wake me up and strip me of my clothes, he would then tie my wrists to my bed and feel me and lick me all over. Sometimes he would put his fingers inside me.

When it was my 6th birthday I remember him saying he was going to change things and made me start to touch him and 'play' his games. This carried on most nights when my mum was working about an hour away from where we lived. If I wanted to do something with friends I would have to pay for it first, and most times I didn't do a good enough job so I wasn't allowed to go out in the end. To me this was normal, but I hated it and wished that it would stop.

For my 12th birthday he said he wanted to give me a present, and asked me to wait for him in his bedroom when Mum had gone out. He gave me something to drink, which I now know to be vodka, and he put himself inside me. All I could think of was the pain and the feeling that I wanted to die there and then. He did this about once a week, until a few months later on New Year's Day when he was drunk and he stormed out. I tried to tell my mum some of the things that he had been doing. She told me to grab a bag and she helped my two brothers get some things together. We ended up going to stay with my mum's friend. My mum sat me down and told me that she had called the police, but I thought that the police were coming for me and that I had done something wrong, so I told them that I made it all up.

After I while we moved back into our old house, but he wasn't there, and I had to go to counselling, but I really didn't like the woman so I stopped going.

I started to cut and make myself sick so that I could cope with everything (I still cut and make myself sick). But after a while I began going out and started to live a normal life. I constantly told myself that none of it really happened so that I could try and make some sense of everything that was going on in my head: He was supposed to be my dad, and keep me safe, but he didn't.

When I was 16 I started to go out with my friends, drinking. This went on every weekend. I'd go to college with a hangover on the Monday. But I started to get flashbacks of small things and I couldn't really place anything together. I kept getting small flashbacks for a couple of years, until I was 18 and in a pub with a couple of people I hadn't seen since school. But in the pub was my dad, and I really wanted to go and hit him. My friends didn't understand why I was so angry with him. They gave me some tablets and said I would feel better. I took them and then I remember my friends walking me home and away from the pub. When I got home I was paralytic, and my mum wasn't happy.

I don't remember much after that, until the next day when my brother showed me a video on his phone. It was me telling my mum everything about him, and she wrapped herself around me and hugged me. Then the video ended.

I'm not sure what to do next. All I feel is angry and hateful at myself because I let it happen and didn't stop any of it. I hate my mum more because I feel that she should have known about it before I tried to tell her on New Year's. I recently tried to kill myself; I slit my wrists and took an overdose. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to think or feel like.

Thank you for reading this...peace out

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Mel" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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Child Abuse Story From Brianne

by Brianne
(North Carolina, USA)

When I was born, I lived with my mom and older brother. My mom had kicked my dad out before I was born. My mom worked a lot and was rarely home. My brother or grandma were the ones that watched me.

When I was 7, my mom married my step-dad. For the first few years after their marriage, things were great. He adopted me. We were a happy family, and I had many friends and a good home life. One of my good friends started taking me to church with them. I loved it! Not long after I started going to that church, an older, mentally disabled man started sexually abusing me. I was only 8 at the time so I didn't understand what was going on. He would constantly touch me inappropriately. He would try to get me to take my clothes off. He would stalk me and my best friend. He always gave me hugs and kisses and it made me really uncomfortable. He would follow me into the girls' bathroom and wait for me.

Finally, my friend's dad caught on to what was happening. He told my preacher, and the preacher took care of it.

Then when I was 14, my dad was laid off. During this time he started to physically and emotionally abusing me. It started out emotional. He would burst into my room and yell at me for the dumbest things, such as his sports team loosing or for being hungry. He would blame me for everything, from my dog barking to the computer being messed up. He always took everything out on me because he was scared of my mom. He would say that he regretted adopting me and wished I'd moved out with my brother.

Not long after all this started, I became depressed. I started cutting, first with a knife then a razor. I attempted suicide 5 times in 2 months. My best friend found out and told my youth pastor about my dad and about me cutting. She had an adult she knew I trusted talk to me about it. We talked for hours about it. She helped me more than I thought imaginable.

But then my dad started hitting me.

I'd come home from hanging out with friends, and my dad would be waiting for me. First he would yell at me and cuss me out, and then he would hit me. He never hit me on the face, mainly my arms and chest. I started cutting and thinking about suicide again. In another 2 month period, I attempted suicide 3 times. My best friend really started worrying about me. He would text or call every night to make sure I was still alive and that my dad hadn't beaten me too hard. He knew what I was going through because he used to be abused.

Then things with my dad got really bad. He started hitting me so bad. It hindered my movement. More people started noticing. I spent most of my night outside so I could run if he came after me. When I'd go inside, I'd run upstairs and lock the door. He kept me in one room all day. If I went downstairs at all, he'd get really mad at me. If I talked to my mom, I'd get in trouble.

I go to a psychiatrist because I suffer from severe depression and anxiety. He doesn't know about my dad because I don't want him getting in trouble and getting even madder. There are a few people at church that know, but won't call DSS because they know how scared I am of what could happen. I'm now 16 and it's still going on. As I get older, it seems to get worse. I'm just waiting for him to snap and either kill me or put me in the hospital.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Bonnie

by Bonnie
(USA)

I can't believe I am finally going to get this out. But I am starting to realize that keeping what happened to me silent, I am keeping that demon in. Only by loudly proclaiming that I am a survivor through sharing my experience, strength and hope will I be able to release that demon.

I was sexually abused around the age of eight. It was the daughter of a friend of the family.

But really, I think the abuse happens before any physical touching or verbal abuse. The abuse begins when the person who is supposed to be caring for you completely disregards you and your safety. That is what happened to me.

My mom was an alcoholic since before my birth. She also was quite dependent on many many many men. They would come in and out of our lives. I could not begin to count how many guys came over with gifts or something for me to try to win me over. Fortunately, none of those men ever harmed me.

Because my mom was an alcoholic and she wanted to go out and have a good time, having an eight-year-old daughter was a bit of a downer. So when she met a man around that time, he encouraged her to leave me with some friends of his and hers that they both worked with.

My mom left me on a couple different occasions with these people. That is when their daughter who was around 16 at the time began to molest me. At first, I thought it was ok because we were both girls and that's how girls were supposed to play with each other. But then it started to feel worse and worse and I would dread being there.

I remember one time when this girl was terrorizing me. She would not let me sleep. She kept making me touch her and kiss her and all I wanted was to sleep. I have a lot of issues revolving around sleeping; I hate to be woken up especially in the middle of the night.

The worst part that I have held on to from this is that when my mom would drop me off say, on a Friday, she would tell me she would be back on Sunday. I would later find out that she didn't plan on coming back until Tuesday and couldn't even tell me the truth. Talk about feeling trapped.

When I finally told my mother about the abuse around the age of 16, she forgot. FORGOT.

I am worth remembering. I am worth being told the truth. I hate my mother sometimes more than the perpetrator who was obviously being abused as well and passed the behavior on to me.

I am a survivor, not a piece of crap. When I look in the mirror, I know what a survivor looks like.

I would love to write more but I have to go. I'm 22 and healing, just celebrated a year of sobriety yesterday after trying to self-medicate for many years.

Find a God you understand, not a God someone else tells you to have. Be free and survive.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Carolyne

by Carolyne
(USA)

I Was 8. My Family was going to a baseball game. i asked if i could of came along. but they said they didnt want me there. so they just took my 2 cousins and left me at the house with my uncle.. i was supposed to take a shower. I Did. I Shared a House with my Cuzin My aunt and uncle. I used there bathroom cuz it was better. i went in the bathroom. I took a shower and did my business. But then my uncle walked in. i Was scared of what he was doing. He asked for his toothbrush. i Said okay. then he opened the screen door all the was. he looked at me and i was terrified. i didnt know what to do.. He started touching me in my private area. He grabbed a towel and grabbed me and threw me on my bed. He opened my legs and i was soaking wet. e opened my legs and started putting his finger in my private part. Then he started doing thing thats i think are unmentionable. Then he stopped and walked away. i ran into my dads room and started hurting myself and throwing my self on the bed. I got dressed and cried for hours. i was scared... really scared. he came in the room and i was terrified wondering what he was going to do. He came up to me and said you pinky promise you wont tell anyone what happened. and i did. I juss continued crying. i didnt know what to do. i felt like crap and i wanted to die. i thought my life was over. and then 2 weeks later it happened again. I told him to stop but he didnt.. and then he just stopped and walked away. I havent told anyone for 1 year. then i knew i had to tell someone. So i told the person i trusted the most. my brother.. I told him and he told my other brother then he told my dad. my heart was racing and i was scared what was going to happen.. Now the person is still not in jail.. Now im 11 years old and what happened to me still haunts me.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Brittany2

by Brittany
(USA)

I'm 13 years old. I was 12 in this story. But my dad has been like this since I was probably about 8 years old. I have many memories that haunt me and hurt me soooo much. Here's one of my stories.

It all started when my dad left home. My mother couldn't believe it was over. They were trying to get things right again so my dad moved back in. There are different situations, but this one I have flashbacks of a lot and hurts the most.

Me and my father were driving to my sister's choir concert, but first we had to go pick up my grandmother. It was hurting me so bad, my mom went out of town the day before, but my counselor and mother kept telling me I should talk to my dad...let me say I regret saying anything. I just asked him if he loved my mom, and why he left. Maybe those questions were bad but I don't know. He went totally scary. He yelled at me saying I was just like my mother. He was comparing me to my mother so much I just wanted to yell, "I would much rather be like her than you." When I thought he was done yelling I pulled my ipod out of my pocket and started listening to a song that normally makes me feel better. Well, he didn't like this. He yanked the cords out of my ears and threw my ipod with all his strength on the floor. I knew it was broken by the force he threw it with. He yelled, "You don't deserve your ipod. Things like you don't deserve to have this and things." I was crying the whole time. He yelled to stop being such a crybaby, but it only made me cry more.

Finally, we reached my grandmother's. I never really liked his mom very much, so I wasn't shocked when my dad told her I was being like my mother. She did the same thing...gave me the same look like shame on you for being like your mom. I didn't eat that night because my dad took my grandma and me to this restaurant he knew that I would hate. What hurts the most is I almost ran away, but to tell the truth I stayed for my mom. He apologized but I could tell that when my mom found out she was only telling him to. What scared me the most was ever since he moved out the first time he's only gotten worse. I don't know what to do. Plus my mom refuses to believe it. Now I wonder if I'm just being a crybaby like he said. He's never cared much about my feelings, and I really doubt he will. He never had a relationship with me. I really hate calling him Dad because he only was a dad to my older sister, never me. He threw me into a kayak once at our cabin and it left bruising all over my upper arm. I don't know what to do. He has moved out once and for all, and the divorce should be final soon. But that's the problem...my mom wants us to have a relationship. He's ok sometimes, but I know he won't try to be my father. He gave up my sister and my mom, but he gave me up a long time ago, before either of them. I know that had I been in the front passenger seat that day with the ipod, instead of the ipod it would have been me and I'm thankful for that.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Melissa2

by Melissa
(Oregon, USA)

When I was 11, I was sexual abuse by my dad. It was hard for me to understand what was happening to me. I was so scared of what would happen to me if I told him to stop. In the past years that I lived with my dad, he would always hit me or tell me that he would put my head through a wall, because I would get bad grades. No matter how hard I would work to make him proud, it was never enough for him. So the night I was sexual abuse, my dad had a friend over and they had alot to drink, when my dad's friend left, my dad and I were watching t.v. then my dad ask me to rub his feet, so I did, then he pulled me on top of him. He was telling me how beautiful I was and how happy he was to have me as a daughter. Then he undid my pants, then he stop and ask if it is ok, I didn't want to say no because I didn't want him to hit me. So I told him it was ok. He took my hand, and led me to his bedroom. He closed the door. He started to take off my clothes, he told me to lay on this bed, so I did. Then he started to rub my breast and work his way down. Then he went inside of me with his finger and then his mouth. I was so scared, I didn't know what to do. After awhile, we move to my room, he started rub oil on my body. Then he was done, so I went in the bathroom and locked the door. I took a shower, trying to wash off everything that happened. I started to cry. I didn't want to live anymore. When I was done with my shower, I got dress and went back out to the living room. My dad was laying on the floor, he told me lay with him and then My dad sexual abuse me again. This wasn't the first time I was sexual abuse, my first time was when I was 3. But I didn't remember much about it. The next day, I went to school, when I got to my classroom, my teacher was standing by the door, asking how their weekend was, I didn't know what to say, so I went past her, but she could see that their was something wrong. During the day, I went to the girls room with a friend, and when we were alone, I told her what happen. She wanted me to tell someone what happen but I couldn't do that. Sometime in the afternoon, I got call down to the counsel's office, there was two police officers. I was really scared now. But they told me that I wasn't in trouble, they just wanted me to tell what happen the day before. But I knew that my friend told the teacher what I told her. So I told the officers what happen, they told me that I wasn't going home today, that I was going to a foster home for now until they found a home for me. Now I'm 17, living with my adopted parents and having a normal life again. When I think about the things that I went through, made me a better person. This made me a stronger person too. I want people to know that being sexual abuse isn't your fault and it's ok to tell your story to someone that you trust, thats what I did and I glad that I did tell someone because it would have gotten alot worst.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Gaielle S Part 2

by Gaielle S
(Crystal Lake, Illinois, USA)

I was left home alone starting at about I guess 7 or 8 to take care of the motel my father had built while they and my older sister went off to party cuz she was dating at about 14 or 15. She dated all the cool guys in school as she was a cheerleader she got good grades and she was my parents' favorite. To my dad she could do no wrong, but my mother would also pull her hair and rip her clothes if she came home late and my mom knew she was drinking. But I feel I got the brunt of it all from them as they took me with them to bar hop when I was 4 or 5 on up, till they started leaving me home alone to take over at age 7...haha...so funny really. So I rented motel rooms, took in the money, gave them a key, yes it was a small town and no crime so I guess they thought I was fine and my big sisters didn't really care what I did so there was no one to guide me or look out after me for much of my life.

I remember getting fed up one time when I was about 10, always having to stay home alone, so my sister had a date and the guy came over and I was mad so I threw pudding all over him and my sister my parents of course were gone drinking somewhere and I just didn't want to stay home alone again!!!! Of course I got into big trouble for that one.

I was mean to my sister every chance I got too. I can't exactly remember in what way but I remember always pestering her or maybe throwing things or kicking her. Such learned behavior, right? So of course her friends thought I was such a brat. No one even thought about how I was being treated, left alone all the time while they had a life.

My sister went to college with my dad's help. My mother wasn't really into that I guess, but he was as he attended college, so she was the good kid that was a beauty queen, prom queen and college grad. Me, I was just there. No one planned any future for me at all. It was never discussed. My mother asked me one time if I wanted to go to college and I told her no, that I hated school. I think I was like 14...haha...like I knew what I was supposed to be doing. Give me a break. I didn't even brush my teeth when I was younger. They had yellow scum all over them and I had several pulled out because they were abscessed. Plus they were crooked to boot. No braces for me, but my mother was always having work done on her teeth to make them better. When I asked her and my sister how come no one got me braces or made sure I brushed my teeth they said people didn't do that back then for their kids!!! My neighbor in Florida where I used to live is around my age and her parents got her braces and she has beautiful teeth.

Actually, I remember a day in particular that I was sitting on our porch at a house that we were renting, while my parents built a new motel. I was like 11 or 12 and my sis said to me cuz she was sitting with me, a rare thing as she was usually always gone to her job at a local restaurant or running around with her friends and many boyfriends...anyway, we were sitting there and she said, "Gaielle, your teeth look yellow. Why don't you go brush them." I think I went and scrapped all this yellow scum off them and after that I decided I should brush my teeth more often. That was the only piece of advice she ever gave me that made any sense or helped me in anyway. It always stuck in my head LOL funny huh.

I ended up marrying one of her old boyfriend's who was 5 years older than me. She had already been sleeping with him too. I was a virgin and very naive cuz I didn't even know about any of that. He taught me. No one ever talked to me about it ever, nor did they talk to me about periods. Looking back on it, I think my sister had been around the block a few times as she was always going drinking with high school friends and she dated a lot of the guys on the football team. She was very popular. Now I think I know why. She later became a hippy in San Francisco. She ran away from home while pregnant with her soon to be husband's baby, my nephew whom I came to dislike because of his attitude towards me.

My sister was a Hippy in 1967. She lived in a commune and stood in line for the soup kitchen and she dropped acid. I remember being 15 and writing her a letter telling her not to do drugs...haha...I never did do drugs myself. I had more sense than she did, and my parents never recognized that or appreciated the kind of person I was. I have always felt they just used me while I was growing up, used me to babysit them and their motels. My mom was always trying to take pills and I was always trying to not get her to.

I spent my teen years listening to them fight and making sure she didn't kill herself with her sleeping pills instead of having a life and enjoying my teen years. I had no hobbies even though when I was about 6 I started taking pics of my many kittens. I adored my cats, and my mother had them all put to sleep. One day I came home from school and she said she did it, took them and put them to sleep! I HATED her for years after that!

One time I came home from school I was in 10th or 11th grade I tried to open the door and I noticed all the curtains were closed. My mom came to the door and wouldn't let me in. She said to go to my girlfriend's house and come back later. There were some cars in our driveway. I later found out they were watching porn movies with some local lowlife townspeople. My parents had money. They had a bar in our utility room and they hung out with low class people: the town misfits, drunks, lower income, not anyone you would want to be seen with at the local country club if we had one haha! Who else would put up with all their drinking and fighting. Certainly not normal and decent people.

My sister was already married and gone but she and her husband did split up for a brief period of time and she came home to live. I ended up being her babysitter for my nephew, whom I adored. I didn't mind taking care of him and never got paid. She resumed her wild drinking partying ways with her old boyfriend from high school my soon to be husband. Little did I know what a scumbag he was. She had her little fling with him. He was a Vietnam vet. He was home on leave and he of course gave her pot which she got me to try and I never really liked it but did it to fit in. She eventually went back to her husband.

I was always on welfare or living with my parents with no future. I worked cleaning motel rooms for them, my aunt and uncle, or waitressed at a local restaurant. Of course I hung out at the bar cuz thats what everyone my age was doing but my sister's husband said I was white trash and reminded him of his mother, so they never did ever want to help me out and my sister went along with him in typecasting me. Nice older sister huh?!! She showered my parents with everything and they had their own living with the motels and a house in Florida, and me, I had nothing. So I lived poor, my sister lived rich.

Then I met my current husband after I went to beauty school by going through a state run program in Florida. He was younger than me, way younger and I didn't really think he was someone I should be with but he persisted and chased me, so my husband seemed like a knight in shining armor. Little did I know he would depress me beyond words with his controlling abusive behavior. I'm still with him 20 years later. I have severe osteoporosis. I sure didn't ever get that happy ever after ending. Nope, my husband is very controlling and mean. He used to be physical, till I had him arrested. Then it was all verbal and emotional. I can't take much more so will probably divorce him within the year.

To Gaielle from Darlene: As you can see, I edited your story for length, in part because it did not fit within the template I use for stories, in part because I felt the additional details you provided were not really in keeping with the purpose of my site. I did my best to keep the details that showed either child abuse or the effects of it. I meant no disrespect to you or to your story by doing so. I do hope you understand.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From FR

by FR
(India)

I have been battling my personal troubles for the last twenty six years. It's been really a tough time for me. I cannot remember being happy since the day I regained consciousness. I never saw my parents together, never saw them happy together. They have been fighting all times likes cats and dogs, even today. I live with them and it's a difficult ordeal for me. It's really been a tough time for me after my brother moved out with his family and now the whole world knows that I have had an abusive childhood. t wasn't physical abuse. It's just that I lost many years. My grades dropped. I lost interest in girls and lost interest in life. I disassociated myself from my family. I am trying to get my life together by moving out.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

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Child Abuse Story From Sophie2

by Sophie
(Location Undisclosed)

The reason I'm writing this is because I know there are so many people out there who this happens to who I pray each night will find the courage to seek help, unlike me.

My childhood was fights. All my memories are of fighting with my parents. Since I was 4 or 5 years old I have memories of being punched, kicked, slapped, hit leaving me with scratches and bruises. Even at such a young age I was the one who started the fights. I was a very weak child. I had no strength in me for a 5-year-old girl against two fully grown adults so, each time they would purposely wind me up waiting for me to snap I would lash out at them. They would ignore me for days. When I was bad, they would hurt me until I couldn't move. They would pull me by my hair and throw me against the stairs. I told my family and they just said I deserved to be punished for being bad.

Every night I would cry in my bed, unable to find anyone who would believe me. I kept a notepad so I could write down all the incidents but my dad found it and ripped it up.

The abuse stopped until 2 years ago. When I was watching TV in my room my mum came in and dragged me from my bed by my hair and started banging my head against the wall.

I am now 15 years old, and this year I got told I was a victim of child abuse. I still feel like I deserved it all as that's what I was told to believe. I wish there was someone I could have told long ago who would have believed me to save me from the lasting effects I am facing. Every day I remember. It never leaves. The hardest thing to accept is that you love your parents but they didn't love you. I can only hope to help others like me and encourage them to seek help before it's too late. Thank you.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

My Story: 
When I was three years old, I started going to daycare at a woman's home we knew from our church. After being there for a little over a month, the babysitter started to get a little bit more physical. If I would wander from where we were playing she would drag me by my shirt back or if I would do something wrong she would hit me. I didn't think much of it. After all, I was only three. But then things started to get a little worse.

She would throw toys at me when she was angry and she would pull me across the floor by my hair. I remember a time when she let me play with her hair and gave me a round brush to use. Well, I ended up getting it stuck in her hair and she didn't like that too much. She kicked me and hit me.

After getting too close to a fire hydrant near the sidewalk, she strangled me and choked me until I couldn't breathe.

This went on for months. And every week, things got worse and worse. She would tell my parents I fell down or that I was playing too violently with the other children and that's why I had bruises on my back and arms and chest. And of course, my parents believed her. She was from our church, so why would she lie about something as serious as that?

Finally, almost a year after being with her, my parents grew suspicious and questioned me about my babysitter. They finally got it out of me and withdrew me from her care immediately. But, because we didn't give her a two weeks notice, she actually had the nerve to sue us! She walked away with nothing but a complaint on her record. She was never convicted or even lost her daycare license.

Because of her, I have dealt with multiple side effects of child abuse. I have dealt with depression, low self-esteem and still have problems with trusting others. I'm learning to deal with it, but it's hard. I deal with things much differently than others. I only hope no one else will have to deal with these issues because the court found it not necessary to convict her!

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Janna

by Janna
(Canada)

Ricky - Abuser, married to my cousin: 
When I was in elementary school (between ages 5-10) and the boys I liked, I had only liked from kindergarten until around grade 4 (Ben, Ryan and Josh). I had many crushes. He (Ricky) was always on my case - usually about kissing them. I had never 'acted' on my feelings for these boys, and that was what I'd said. Jesse was the one who told him about them.

After this, the next things I can think about are him making eye contact with me. He would wait until I was look at him and then he would move his eyes to my chest and then back up at my eyes.

Every now and again he would grab my hand and hold onto it. I didn't like it. His hands are always rough and dirty.

The next instant involving him - I think it was when he was tickling me. He has tickled me before, be it the "belly-button plucker" or "getting-my-gizzard" (which I had thought fun). He was tickling me and I'd slid off the couch and onto the floor. He got Jesse to hold my arms. Ricky knelt between my legs and continued to tickle me. I was fighting to get away (as part of the game) and he grabbed the inside of my legs to hold me still. After I 'calmed down' (and Jesse was standing up away from us) he tickled me some more, but this time under the arm. I was still young and didn't wear a bra yet (I began wearing a bra on and off in grade 6). His hand went under my shirt. After he was finished 'tickling' me he sat up on the couch. I laid on the floor just breathing (being tickled was hard work). He grabbed my foot and started trying to tickle me but I had my socks on so it didn't really work. He let my foot go. It had landed on his lap. I went to move my foot and he took it again, this time pushing it to his 'area'. I tried again to move it and he said, "No, keep it there" telling me to "push" - I did as he said. I didn't know what he was doing. I was a kid - I felt it a little strange because I knew that it was his 'private'...but other than that, not a thing. He just kept moving my foot - up and down, "push harder" – "move your toes" - this went on for a little while. Jesse had gone downstairs I think (where my mom and his wife were cleaning up). It stopped the instant he heard footsteps. I do believe that I'd sensed (to add to my earlier suspicion) that what 'we' were doing wasn't proper.

I don't remember the time in between - nothing 'unordinary' (I mean, nothing different about him looking at my chest/down my shirt or having me touch him).

The next thing I can recall is Christmas Eve.

He sat with me and 'played' dolls with me. After a little bit, he took one and started touching me with it. He got up and shut the door. Then he used his hands. Before I knew it, I was laying on the carpet with my shirt lifted up (bra was on). He had one hand pushing down on my shoulder and the other on my crotch. He kissed me. Just with his lips. On my stomach, chest, cheeks and lips.

He left after he heard footsteps.

I don't remember coming around for a while after this. The next thing I remember is just him sitting with me and touching my legs and private.

After this - I remember he would put his hand under me and either put my foot or hand on him - he would pinch me or twist my ankle.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kaysha

by Kaysha
(New Zealand)

My grandfather sexually abused me and my two sisters, and had abused my mother (his daughter) which left her mentally unwell and unable to cope with raising children. She was verbally, physically abusive, and generally neglectful. My grandfather also involved me in a satanic cult, I think because we shared a birthday - The 1st of February, which is a significant date in the satanic calendar.

He was a prominent lawyer in our home town, on heaps of boards, and regarded as a philanthropist.

To us girls he was mentally and physically abusive too, holding guns to my head, and semi-strangling me at times, so I would not tell. I have had years of mental illness as a result, but now, aged 50, am starting to do well. I have just finished a Psychology degree, and am a trained nurse. So there is hope.

Thank you

---

Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

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Child Abuse Story From Eileen

by Eileen
(Location Undisclosed)

It all started when I was around 3-4. My dad is bi-polar. My brother is 5 years older than me. First my brother would just touch me-inappropriately. Then it went on to full on sex, both oral and anal. I couldn't tell, and on top of that no one believed me. Then my dad came in and started molesting me, too. So by then I had 2 different guys doing this to me.

By the age of 6 or 7, my dad was really favoring my brother and would molest me, and beat and scream at me for no good reason.

I'm now 14. And dealt with Child Services twice in my life, and they have done nothing. Now my parents got divorced and my dad quickly remarried to a lady with two sons. And my mother married Paul, my stepfather. So now Paul screams at me for eternity and watches me sleep and locks me in rooms and such. My brother still does everything he used to. But thankfully, my science teacher has literally kept me breathing. There are no words that could say thank you enough.

My mother yells at me for eternity, too. I'm basically living in hell. Every day I wonder if I should keep breathing. Four more years and I'll be out.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Eileen" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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Child Abuse Story From Crybaby

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

I'm writing this story for all of the people who aren't sure if they can say they are/have been abused. We are so used to hearing only about the most extreme forms of abuse, that many victims are left to feel like their experiences don't really qualify. I have learned to judge my experiences by their effects and my symptoms, and not merely by the acts.

For a long time, I refused to believe I had suffered abuse. I figured that people were being too sensitive when they defined it as abuse. Some of my experiences are humiliating to describe, and some of them are so minor compared to the extremes of abuse that I feel dumb even calling them abuse.

It started in mid-childhood, when my mom's new boyfriend moved in with us. His disciplinary approach was so foreign to me, I was in absolute shock the first time I got in trouble. He was a hothead and very strict. He liked to yell a lot, even when he wasn't really that angry, just to scare us. Most of his discipline consisted of a spanking and a drawn-out lecture, but for some reason, I was always either terrified or filled with rage, or both. If he was really mad, I might be grabbed by the neck, yanked around, shoved, thrown to the ground, stuff like that. Once, my sister started sobbing because she was scared for me, and that backed him right off.

He also played with me really roughly. I would get picked up and spun around so fast I was sure he was gonna lose his grip and send me flying (luckily, when he did throw me, it was on the couch). He was always grabbing me and rough-housing, shoving me around, tickling so hard he left bruises a couple times. The weird thing is, I could tell when he was stressed from his job by how much harder he would grab me and how much meaner and rougher he would be. He would try to whip me with his belt to scare me, anything to make me flinch. If I ever really got hurt, he would apologize, but he never stopped playing with me like that. I hated it, but I was too scared and weak to fight him or say no to him even when I knew he was about to do something mean. Sometimes I could run and lock myself in somewhere, but there was the risk that would make him mad. Oh, and I'm a girl.

Here's how I know beyond a doubt that it constituted abuse. The older I got, the more overwhelming my rage became. As soon as he was done disciplining me, I would take off to my room and self-injure. I especially liked to punch myself in the face. I fantasized about murdering him, and even rehearsed it with a hunting knife and a shotgun. I acted up in school; I was the class-clown that made you groan instead of laugh because I never knew when to stop. In reality, I knew exactly when to stop, but I felt powerless to do so. I made teachers cry and got sent to the principal's office regularly.

I was a big-time loner. I had no social life outside of school, and could not get close to other human beings. Even when I wanted to get close, something inside me would not allow it to happen. I ruined a lot of friendships because of it. I used any drug I could get my hands on. The self-injury meant not dealing with my emotions so I became depressed and suicidal.

All of that was many years ago. I still deal with rage and not trusting people. I don't self-injure anymore, but I have to be careful about my depression because I am prone to choosing suicide, though I do not have symptoms most of the time. The drugs have been a struggle.

Don't worry about what other people think abuse looks like. You know when something has messed you up badly.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kennesaw Poem 2

by Kennesaw Taylor
(Georgia, USA)

Die Sweet Child
Kennesaw

I've watched men die, held their hand, heard their final breath.
Men who had proved themselves, men who had passed their test.
I've watched men die who needed it, men who had no heart.
I see them in my dreams sometimes, but am glad I did my part.
The words I speak now are so damn true, most will not understand.
Sometimes you wish to die to avoid again, that awful hand.
I hope you can not understand what it means to wish to die.
I understand oh too well and for those kids I cry.
I'm sad each time I hear the news that a child has lost it's fight.
But I know in my heart of hearts that they will sleep in peace for the first time that night.
So die sweet child one after one until the world does see.
That they must put a stop to what happened to you and me.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Viki

by Viki
(Location Undisclosed)

I was seven. It was after my parents were divorced and I went to live with my dad (I chose, he tricked me) and that's when he started. He would yell day in to day out. I would be in trouble for something I couldn't do or didn't do right. But I didn't know any better. I thought what he did to me was normal. I thought every kid went to school hungry from no breakfast and your parents waited to get clothes until they hurt to wear, or get food when the fridge was wiped clean. Not until I was in about 5th or 6th grade I realized it wasn't all right for him to do what he did. But I didn't know exactly what he was doing. I didn't know it was child abuse. I thought I had the problem that I was too sensitive. But then he said something even he could never take back and I decided to take matters to the authorities.

I went to councilors, psychiatrists, and a hospital stay or two. My mom tried to tell the police but they said it was hearsay...that she was lying! So it was like we were screaming our heads off and they refused to hear us.

So one day after an argument with my dad I said, "Screw you!" and ran to my mom's house. Shortly after he tried to bribe me to come back, then he threatened to get rid of my dog. I caved slightly. I said I would visit him sometimes if he kept my dog.

So now I have to wait till I'm 16 to get my dog (when I can work) because my mom lives in an apartment and the only way I can have my dog is if we pay like 3 or 4 hundred dollars extra which we can't do right now. But if I get a job and save my money I should be able to pull it off! (Yay!!) I love my dog and truthfully the only reason I even speak to my dad is my dog even though my brother is currently living with him.

I really hate my dad but I do not want him to die. I don't think I'll ever truly hate him that way. He is and always will be my dad but that does not excuse anything he did/say. But he has shown and said he loves me and misses me but I don't think he does, or at least I'm not sure he does.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Mike Part 1

by Mike
(Oklahoma, USA)

Is it my imagination? 
My trouble was with my father. At around 5 I remember being thrown across the living room, hitting the wall and landing on the couch. Mom upset screaming at Dad to "stop he was going to kill me". The abuse wasn't ever sexual. Physical, mental and verbal. But when I look back, words or at least I can't completely describe what it was like. It leaves me to this day thinking, suck it up and move on...quit whining.

I'm 48 now, and the memories are as vivid as yesterday. The physical abuse continued into my late teens, yet some of that was my doing because when Dad focused the abuse towards Mom or my sisters I would draw his attention to me. It was always verbal first, and then escalated to physical. My reprimands were an every day occurrence, not unlike a Marine Drill Instructor. Dad's friends would tell him, "Geez, he's just a kid." Dad would tell them to butt out. Mom tried to protect me for a long time, but as I became a teen I assured her I was ok.

I was given alcohol at 6 months, and as a toddler was already drinking at will and getting drunk. This made alcohol easier to use as I grew older and it became a close friend...my only friend. I drank until I was 39. I was extremely nervous for years, edgy and the only comfort I found was in getting drunk. Dad's destructive criticism as he called it continued until dementia left him a shell of a man. He passed in 2004. At his funeral I felt nothing. In his decline I had told him I'd forgiven him and loved him. Maybe it gave me some sense of closure...I don't know.

Nightmares still persist. I brought up the abuse at a family gathering after Dad had passed because everyone was saying how great he was. This was not well accepted, but I persisted calmly. Slowly, Mom and my sisters admitted the fact. It makes me feel crazy sometimes. Is it my imagination? Was Dad just strict and I'm being weak?

Dad constantly told me there was no way I could be his son. More than once he told me just stay away, then would call me and I would be in trouble for not coming around. I tried to calm him by agreeing with him that I was wrong. Nothing could stop him. If he felt I was trying to do that, it only made matters worse. All I could do was hope he would get bored and move on. It left me feeling like a failure in life.

I got into counseling and saw several different people. They never decided on a diagnosis: PTSD, Bi-polar or just sensitive. I quit going. Dad was a truck driver and was gone a lot while I was a pre-teen. I prayed he would crash and die. When he came home, even in the night, he would wake me for my little dose of reality. Often he threatened to kill me. I went through years of wanting to shoot myself and tried to do it every night. Through my 20s and 30s I drank more and would pass out, only to wake to do it again. I feel like it was my fault and that Dad was right, even now.

I'm sober now; 9 years. My first wife had infidelity issues though I stayed in it for 15 years. It was an issue even dating her, yet I married her anyway.

Through my work life I worked harder than anyone else, working to exhaustion. Was that a form of self abuse?

I'm medically retired now. I lost an eye to an on-the-job accident, then contracted a rare eye disease that will blind me. Depression has run for years. Meds didn't help. I often wonder if I'm crazy. I don't know...I've been described as weird and I hate that. I just want to be like everyone else to an extent. I went through a period of violence; I would find the biggest guy I could and pick a fight. I'm 135 lbs and they always ran away...strange.

I have kids, and remembering my past, I vowed at a young age to not repeat to them what I went through. If anything, they get away with murder. I'm told by many I should be very proud of them, and I am! Often, when I'm around other people, I tend to analyze conversations and just hang out. I don't know how to take people and my mind races. I guess that's what makes me weird. I wonder if I'm crazy.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Mike Part 1" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Mike Part 2

by Mike
(Oklahoma, USA)

Is it my imagination? - Part 2: 
I was reading some of the other stories and it made me wonder...I do have rages. I never project them at my wife or kids but I know it's not pleasant to be around...I feel guilty about everything! You could accuse me of anything, and in my own mind I question myself if I did it. It drives me nuts. Employers I have worked for I told as I hired on I am that way. I was subject to constant drug tests and I would tell them I don't use.

I'm excessively honest, probably due to being constantly accused of lying. I never have been one to offer excuses or to defend myself in confrontations. But at the same time, as I put up with ridicule from the lower management, I eventually tire of it and it always comes down to little scrawny me threatening to beat up my boss. I never have been fired, though. I guess because I work very hard. Also, I forgot to mention in my earlier post (see Part 1 of Mike's story): Mom often would get me to tell her something in secrecy, then she would tell Dad, which got me into trouble big time. I remember her having an evil smile after I told her something...Dread for the knowing what I was in for.

One time she asked me to go help Dad. I told her I didn't want to help the *** and she slapped my face hard. It hurt more emotionally than physically. My life as early as I can remember has always been uncontrollable emotionally. I feel weak for crying, then mad at myself. It led to self abuse in the forms of just being very critical, to embracing pain and depression. My wife says even now that I just like being depressed, but I don't do it on purpose. It can just be so overwhelming!

My life is much better now that I live on my own with my family. I just can't seem to move on for some reason. I have tried to talk about it to my family, but they seem indifferent. It makes me feel angry with myself for mentioning it.

I suffered for a long time with violent thoughts and images, which are mostly gone now. I have never hurt anyone, nor do I intend to. I would not let myself! I feel bad for hurting someone's feeling and guilt will linger for days. I must be nuts.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Mike Part 2" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Courtney M

by Courtney
(Springfield, Missouri, USA)

When I was little I lived with my mom, and my parents had divorced. I was jumping on the bed and my stepfather told me to get off. Well, without helping me get off the bed he hit me in my head. That put me in the hospital for about a week. My stepfather physically and sexually abused me, and I'm proud to help anyone who needs it. If you want to talk to me about abuse (you can write me a comment on this site).

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Brieanna

by Brieanna
(California, USA)

Every day it seems things get harder. I am a victim of physical, sexual and verbal abuse. For years and years the only memories I have are of the monster I call my father. He stole so much from me. It changed me. I don't know if it's for the better or the worse.

Since I was born my dad had to be superior over his 7 children. He hurt us all so badly. I have 17 deep small scars on my lower back from my fathers belt buckle. When I was 6 years old he killed my brother and covered it up as a suicide. My parents were in the middle of a divorce at this time. My dad already had a new wife lined up. The day he and my mother divorced he married Terry. He did really good for a little while. I thought that maybe he truly had changed, until the day I came home from school and he told me to grab my ankles. He kicked me so hard that I hit the bookshelf at the end of our hall so hard I cut my eye.

Things only got worse from there.

He asked me if I wanted ice cream and I said sure. He made it a point to just take me and not my brother or step-sister. On our way to get ice cram he asked if he could see my privates. I said no. He said he created it he should be able to look at it. I got really scared after that. I knew what he was capable of—murder—and I would rather go through all the pain than die and leave my brother to take my place. My dad had me so scared of him that that was his advantage. He could get me to do anything because of my fear.

A couple weeks after the first incident he took me swimming and took pictures of me in my underwear in the water. Then he and my stepmom broke up. I was scared beyond belief. I didn't know what would happen. Then he just drank a lot for about 2 years and it was back to hitting us. I would rather take a beating then have to see his disgusting eyes looking at me.

When I was 13 he took me driving one day outa the blue. We started driving and I knew there was a catch. It was 10 miles into me driving. My dad told me to take off my shirt. Every time I messed up or went over the line I had to take off my clothes. Before I knew it I was driving down the highway completely naked and humiliated. He then let me put my shirt on so the cops wouldn't think anything suspicious. I wanted to crawl outa my skin. I couldn't stand what he turned me into. It was killing me inside. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep.

A month after that I accidentally broke my sister's window in her truck. My dad said that I had to pay for it. He wanted me to dance for him. So I did. Then he wanted me to put a skirt on, so I did. Then he wanted me to put my mom's thong on, so I did. I was so scared. Then he started to take pictures. Before I knew it I was completely naked and he had 2 cameras on the floor. Then my brother walked in when my dad was posing me. He looked like he saw a ghost. I never felt so ashamed. Then my dad took me to the store and bought me something, like he always did when he knew he crossed a line. I couldn't believe what just happened. I was no longer a happy teenage young lady. I was dead inside.

I went to my sister's and called the cops. They arrested my dad on DUI (drunk under the influence) when he came looking for me, then they got a search warrant for his house where they found two and a half rolls of pictures of my naked body. When I went to court later I found out that everyone had seen me and every part of me. I was so humiliated when I had to give my victim's impact statement. My dad got two 2.5 consecutive years. He has been in for 4 and he goes up for parole in July. I have a feeling that when he gets out he will look for me and his intentions won't be pictures this time.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Lydia

by Lydia
(Tobago, West Indies)

My mother died when I was nine years old and my older sister took me and my two younger brothers in. She had a common law husband and children of her own. When he left for work she beat me every day, often climbing unto my back and biting me with all of her strength. Once she dashed hot water across my face. She threw objects after me that split open my head. No-body knew. The villagers thought that she was a generous and kind woman.

I remember when I was ten she used me repeatedly for oral sex. I could not eat afterwards for the day and kept washing my mouth out.

When I was twelve, her common-law husband broke off his marriage engagement with her. She took me around the village without his knowledge and told his friends and people in general that she had caught him having sex with me. When she asked me in front of them I had to say yes because she would beat me so badly and there was no-one to tell. I would never have told anyone except that this woman put her daughter in court, fighting for her daughter's child and my sister made that child lie about her stepfather sexually molesting her.

I am 52 years old and I swear to God I WAS STILL TERRIFIED OF MY SISTER until I saw her daughter stand up and fight back. She was the first person I ever told what happened to me. It was like a huge weight had been lifted that I was not even aware of.

Thank you for the opportunity to tell. My niece formed an NGO (non-government organization) international advocacy against child abuse.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Amber1 Part 2

by Amber
(Windsor, Ontario, Canada)

I'm not 100% sure how to put this into writing but I'll try my best. For some time now I've known I'm emotionally abused, thanks to this site. I've put something small on here before (see Part 1 of Amber1's story) and it's really gotten worse.

When I was little, everything was fine. It all seemed to start when I began to grow up. Well, in my eyes anyway. She (my mother) would do normal parent things, like yelling at me because I didn't want to do the dishes or something silly like that, but when I turned 13 it got a whole lot worse. She yelled at me for having a messy room, not doing the dishes or telling her I would just do them later. It kept on like that for a few years, and then when I started high school (Grade 9) she hit me and of course I would cry and she would yell at me for crying.

Once, I was on my way to my bus stop still in my grade 9 year of high school, she hit me and missed but it was so hard that she cut her knuckle and it was bruised all around it. She told me to say she did it when she was moving the microwave.

When she would hit me, as soon she was done it was like she clicked into reality. I would run away to the living room or something and she would come after me, hug me and tell me she was so sorry and it would never happen again. But it would.

Now I'm 15 and she doesn't hit me anymore but she yells at me for everything. Last week she was driving me to school (because she forced me to move and told me she would just drive me to school) she started screaming at me for something that I can't remember and I started crying like I do every time she yells at me. I told her for the 18th time that I wish I were dead all the time and I was to kill myself. She said, "Just because you aren't getting your way." Like she could care less that I constantly want to kill myself and wish for death.

About 3 days ago I wasn't feeling well. I never get sick (like I get once maybe twice a year) and I just so happened to be not feeling well. We were in the car because she was driving me to school, and again for the second time that morning, she flipped out saying it was only because I was tired. I practically begged her to let me stay home and she did, but only after yelling at me and telling me she would take me home, but that I was getting my computer taken away from me for 2 weeks and I couldn't go to my friends birthday party which it this Sunday and Monday. She changed her mind after I had a fever for 2 days straight.

So I really don't know what to do. I physically hate my mom and I start to cry every time she yells at me. I'm alone all the time in my room. I don't believe in God at all and I wish I were dead all the time. I can't wait until I'm 18 so I can leave her and never come back. I'll most likely never speak to her again after I leave.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Sally M

by Sally M
(El Paso, Texas, USA)

Emotionally Hurt Girl: 
The first thing people think when they hear the word abuse it either physical or sexual. It never crosses their mind that abuse could be emotional. And if you tell someone there is such thing as emotional, they think it's nowhere near as bad as the others. But it's just as bad.

I always thought that my parents calling me, my brother, and sisters names was nothing. Just to get us to stop what we were doing. My mom always yelled at me and called me names for absolutely no reason. One day she would be mad and when she picks me up from school she would take all of it out on me. Even when she wasn't mad, she would find some reason to call me names.

It hurt a lot when she called me names and told me that I and my siblings were a mistake. It hurt when she told us she regretted us and could go back in time to make sure we were never born. I always felt like I was worthless, and eventually I got really depressed. I wouldn't talk to anyone and I had built a huge wall that nobody could climb over. I couldn't trust anyone anymore. My friends noticed and asked what was wrong, but the first thing I did was smile and say that I'm fine.

I didn't want to tell anyone how I felt. I felt as though they would say it was my fault. I even feel it's my fault. I try many times to be good and try my best, only to be put down again and again. I want to talk to someone but I am afraid. I love my mom and my dad. I don't want to lose them, but at most times I just wish I was dead. At one point I almost began to cut myself, to get away from my feelings, but I found it easier to pinch myself and hit things to make it hurt.

I still lie to myself now and say that everything is OK, but I really don't know what to do. I see my mom calling my younger sisters names and shaking them and yelling at them right in their face just for crying. I am truly scared of my parents. My dad does the same things. I am afraid to talk to someone, afraid I am going to get blamed and afraid I am going to lose my family. I really don't know what to do.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Lonely at Heart Part 12

by Sandra
(Tampa, Florida, USA)

How?? How does one begin to tell a story about their life? A story that is so painful, a story filled with unwanted memories, a story that you wish was fiction but unfortunately it is A mere reality! How do you summarize 9 yrs of your life into just a few pages, without further hurting yourself or anyone else?? To tell your story, COMPLETELY without leaving anything out, anything that can continue hunting you. How do you tell your story, KNOWING that there will NEVER be justice for what was done to you. That the person that hurt you so deep, the person that took away your childhood, adolescence & even controlled your adulthood is free of worries & convictions, when you have lived your ENTIRE life in a prison!! HOW??? How do you tell your story??

I have tried and tried, starred at this site for days on end & cannot find the will in me to summarize my story. I start to build it in my head and when it comes to writing it down or typing it out I freeze, why?? I have already written so many, why now, that I have decided to tell my story to the public, why am I getting cold feet??

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed26

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

Wish Daddy was nice then like he is now: 
My dad had some issues while I was growing up. I remember him always yelling at my mother...not too long ago I was watching home movies and came across one of Thanksgiving in 1986. I was 6 at the time. My mother hadn't done something right again. My father was so mad that he sat there the whole meal just staring at my mother. It was always like that. I have no idea why my mother stayed with him, but after learning how my mother's parents treated her while she was growing up made me understand. She was used to being treated like crap.

Back to my father, I remember one time when my older brother and I did something wrong. He got his paddle out and hit my brother so hard that he broke it.

We would have to get in the way between my mother and him all the time so he wouldn't hit her. One time, I was around 15, he got so mad at her over me and I was not going to let him touch her so he grabbed me by the neck and slammed me in the wall and held me there, yelling at me with his face an inch from mine.

I have many of these stories.

My father and mother are still together but he has changed. I wish he was the way he is now when I was growing up. He is a great grandpa to my kids and my brother's kids. But I still hate him and always will. I will never be able to forget how my childhood was. I would never hit my kids no matter how bad they were or what they did.

I became a mother at a young age (16). I know that I was looking for a man to love me since my father sure didn't. I fell in love with a man that was 5 years older than me and wanted to have a baby. He also was crap but I kept my baby and she is 12 now and I am making sure her life and my other children's' lives are all they can dream of. I know my childhood isn't as bad as a lot of others I read about, but it messed me up and my bros.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Alex B

by Alex B
(Thousand Oaks, California)

My Experience: 
It all started when I was 3. My first mother committed suicide at home, and left my father and I alone. After 2 years of dating, my dad remarried to a woman he met in Las Vegas. She had stated that she was a school teacher and had degrees in those areas. Without questioning, my father was excited that he had a parent that understood me and knew how to deal with any problems. As the years went by, he realized that there was something wrong, but being a small businessman he was always away and just noticed the small things. My experience during the time he wasn't around is where I start my story.

I guess the first memory of abuse was when I was 5 and was asked if I had brushed my teeth. A common lie among kids. This started the first of three different punishments. The first would be to run 20 laps at the nearby park. A lap consisted of running through dried weeds to my knees, with the thorns and all the fun stuff that you never want to run through to a wall, touching it and coming back. I have gone back and actually measured it now and it is about 7/8 of a mile. So this would be assigned and I would get through about 10 a day, which I would get more tacked on the next day for not finishing. I would get no rest, except for a sip of water when I was dying. I remember intensely these times and the years having to run these laps and the time I had praying my life would end, so I would not have to suffer this way.

There were days where homework came and went, and besides writing my homework out 3 times each, I would then have to write standards to improve my penmanship. These would consist of 2 sentence standards that I would get assigned at least 5,000 a month, along with the laps I would run. To this day, this is the only reason why I am free from the pain, as my father finally saved some and showed the court to prove the type of mindset that I was put through.
Now some may say that neither of these were that bad, as everyone has gone through this at one point or another. But I never stopped. I was able to go out and play maybe a total of 8 days, and watch TV a total of 18 hours during my childhood.

The third punishment was a 5-foot bent plastic tubing from a toy, used as a paddle and was used until I would stop crying. Now as a child and always being wrong and punished, I seldom had a dry eye. So as for the other two punishments, if I didn't stop crying I would get an added 10 minutes of paddling, 1000 standards, or 10 laps, every 30 seconds until I stopped whimpering. Usually I could stop after 3 to 4 minutes, but would continue shortly after. I have been completely purple from the hips to the thighs numerous times.

The fourth would have been soap in the mouth, but I was allergic and it never came about. So my childhood from 5 - 15 was this. And if for some reason I had finished my punishment, I was able to clean the house, from head to toe with let's just say a military style inspection. If anything, and I mean anything, was out of place or had a speck of dust, I was to start all over. I remember for almost ten years wanting to run away, yet I had nowhere to go. I wanted to die, yet it wouldn't happen. So that would be the physical abuse.

For the mental abuse, I never fully realized it until recently and am still uncovering more details, but I was being raised by a pathological liar. Everything she said was to manipulate me against my father, which worked. I hated my father because I was told that all the parents fighting was because she wanted him to spend more time with me. Between that and being the only person I knew, I grew to love her and to believe that these punishments were for my own good. Never did I think that I was being mistreated.

When the divorce finally happened, I was turned over to my father, as my second mother was placed into a mental hospital, and deemed mentally incapable of being a parent. There were many more titles put on her, but I will show restraint. I am currently 24, and finding that the damage done has been much deeper than initially realized. I just hope that my story will help someone and that my case which was used in another similar case will be helpful to others as well.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Deborah

by Deborah
(USA)

When I was in the 5th grade I had a best friend that I would visit on a regular basis. Her mom and my mom had been friends for years so it was nothing for me to go over and spend the nights, even days at a time. After a while her father started showing an interest in me. He would pull me close to him and eventually he would show me his special movies and touch me. This went on for a while, until I started writing about it in my diary and my mother read it. She confronted him and the abuse stopped. However, she never thought to involve the police. I continued being friends with his daughter and he never touched me again.

When I was in the 9th grade, my 24-year-old cousin came to live with us. He was always very nice and claimed to be into church and a man of God. After he had been living with us for about a month he started to make passes at me. At first I didn't really pay him any attention. I thought he was playing. Then one day he kissed me. He then started telling me he would kill himself if we didn't go farther. The situation ended up being sexual, with him explaining everything to me, even when he took my virginity. This went on for about a month, when my mother came in and caught us having sex on my birthday. She put him out and called me a whore. She did press charges; however, he did not serve any jail time. He just had to pay for my counseling. He still comes to family functions. The rest of the family has forgiven him, but I cannot find it in my heart to do so. That broke up my relationship with the only real mother I had known until that time. She ended up shipping me back with my birth mother, someone who I had only seen on holidays or summer vacation.

My birth mother worked. My brother and I had to go over to an aunt's house after school during the week. Soon my brother started playing after school sports, and I was going to my aunt's house by myself. When I would get there the only one that would be there was my aunt's husband. Most of the time I would go into my cousin's room and watch TV until my mother came. Soon my aunt's husband would start coming into the room and touching me. This went on for about a month, when I finally got up the courage to tell him to stop. He responded that he thought that I liked it. I can still smell him sometimes, and it makes me sick. My mother found out about it and basically nothing was done. He took her shopping and bought her new tires for her car, so she never said anything to anyone about it.

After that I said I would never let anyone take advantage of me again. But when you are abused you take things with you and don't realize it until you sit back and think about it.

I am now 30 and have three children, all boys. My two oldest boys have the same father and he abused me in ways that I can't explain. When I was with him I felt like next to nothing. He abuses alcohol and would fight me when he got drunk. It took him busting my door down and almost hitting my infant for me to leave. Even then I went back.

I went through years of abuse before I finally found the strength to leave. Now I am happy, but there are still times when I feel like the world is coming to an end. The only thing that keeps me going is my children. Thank you for hearing my story.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Deborah" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Stephie

by Stephie
(Texas, USA)

Alone In a Box?? 
It all started when I was around 4. My parents were just starting their divorce. Which meant lots of fighting, and animosity between the two of them. There was no peace and quiet.

My mother finally gave up on my father and started hanging around my (now) "step" family. My mother was great friends with these people. There were 6 in total. They all seemed like perfectly nice people, until the older brother began to touch me when I was alone with him. He knew he had my trust because my mother trusted him. I didn't know any better, I thought it was just another game. He told me to keep it a secret. Weeks and Weeks this went on without fail, until I told my father because I didn't think anything bad about it. CPS got involved. I told them the story, and when I walked out of those doors I saw his mother there looking at me as if I had done something wrong. The guilt was overwhelming. I marched right back in and told them I made the whole thing up, that it was all a hoax.

Five years later, after his brother was shipped off to war, this man who is supposed to be my caretaker, my step-father now, thinks that because his wife's sex is getting boring, that it's ok to touch me in those inappropriate places. For 3 years this went on.

Never did I turn them in, because I felt guilty.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From AnnaLeigh

by AnnaLeigh
(Colorado, USA)

Daddy's Long Gone: 
It had been happening my whole life. I thought it was normal, that everyone's dad did that to them. He just said that it was to be kept quiet, but eventually, when I was about 8 I began to think that not everyone suffered as much as me. No one else had any burns or bruises on them, and nobody else wished that they were never born. For about 3 years I went on with life still wondering the same question, so one day when my dad hadn't had enough beers to be totally loopy, I asked him why he did this to me. I think that I must have frightened him or something because he went insane.

A couple days later when my mom returned from her "business trip" they were at it again. Screaming and yelling at each other. Then for about 25 minutes at least, it was silent. I thought it was over for tonight, but then I heard a loud boom. Almost like a gunshot. About 5 minutes later, my dad walked into my room with a backpack and a gun in his hand. He told me to come with him. Fearing him I obeyed. I had no idea where he was taking me, but no later then 10 minutes I realized what was going on. So I ran. As soon as he realized that I was running he followed. I finally got home and called 911. But since he wasn't that far behind me, he got there before I could talk to anyone. He grabbed me and threw me in "the closet". That is where he always put me when I got into trouble.

Later, I heard police cars. And from there it is just blank to me. Now I'm in therapy and I'm living in a foster home with some very nice people. But now ever since they took me away from my father I've been afraid of the dark. So I always sleep with the light on. Just incase.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Cat A

by Cat A
(Chicago, Illinois, USA)

A brief moment of many in my childhood: 
"That's it", you screamed at me with a puffy red face while sweat was pouring from your hairline in the Texas heat. "I am calling child welfare and sending you away forever. I cannot stand you anymore!" I remember the heat of your breath and the spittle that flew from your mouth to hit me as you screamed not two inches from my face and I began to understand that it did not matter what my perceived sin was, because anything was an excuse for you to take out your rage, disappointment and anger of your own life, upon me, your own personal, mental punching bag.

You held the phone, that phone, on the wall in the kitchen with the lime green counter tops and linoleum floors, your tool to eviscerate me from not only you but my family, my home, my life. As I heard you talk, negotiating to give me away, I grabbed for the phone, fear running rampant through my veins, I struggled against you with all I had in me and I was balling while begging and pleading that I would be good from now on, gasping for breath between the oceans of snot and tears running down my nine-year-old face. After you hung up the phone you helped me pack a bag and then you had me wait on the front step for strangers who would come and take me away, but they never came. Until finally, you told me to come inside and made mention of how sad and pathetic I was because "strangers did not even want me..."

This was one of many things that happened to me while young. There was physical abuse as well at the hands of my mother who was supposed to love me and who to this day denies ever doing anything wrong.

Here I am, 44 years old and still being haunted by the abandonment of my mother and her love as a child....

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kellen Part 2

by Kellen
(Location Undisclosed)

I wrote about 4 months ago. Since then a lot has changed. I've had some time to really think through some things about what's happened and in the past. I've had days where I've felt much better and days where I feel lower and lower. I know now that now is the time that I seek professional counseling. Living with my brother, that he too was abusive, both emotionally and most recently physically.

I've read multiple books on emotional intelligence and controlling my emotions and I seem to have improved as I can feel when emotions are being stirred up and control them. The other day my brother was yelling at me to give him the car key. We share the car and we each have a set of keys. When I refused, his anger quickly elevated and he tried to exert physical abuse on me, and I lost it. I hit him back until he stopped and left. This is when I realized that throughout my childhood when we were "playing" (I played hockey and football, two very physical sports) he was actually picking on me. Sports were my escape, and while I was on the ice or on the field, that was the time when I felt free.

Anyway, as a kid I have memories of being held down by my siblings during and after beatings from my dad. I've come to realize that my dad was a very abusive person. I remember hating him as a kid, as he emotionally abused my mother on a daily basis. They worked together and he treated her like she didn't work as hard as him, and barely helped out around the house. He watched a lot of TV, and that is basically the only memory I have of him in my childhood. The only conversations I've had with him before I went away to college were while he was watching TV or at his office in the city. Otherwise it was berating me because I didn't do well in school or I was "mentally un-tough." He was constantly comparing me and my brothers to his friends kids who had "graduated from Yale" or to his friend who had "won a Nobel prize."

I have many memories of kids in my class offering to help paint my house and help out around my house. My house was always the dirtiest most unkempt house on the block of an upper class neighborhood. The outside was unfinished and the inside was filled with clutter. Don't get me wrong, I never had to worry about money, although my parents would make me feel guilty about any little bit of money I spent. I realize that today I'm very indecisive when making decisions, just as my mom has been all my life. I just never realized it. I was pushed to be a moneymaker and berated when I showed signs of weakness.

I have two distinct memories I'd like to share. One was when I was in 7th grade and I got a new computer. When we were in line at the store I remember my dad embarrassing me in front of the cashier and saying that I better stop being such a bad kid or I wouldn't get things like this. I remember thinking to myself "why does he always have to do this?" When we got back we tried to set it up and after about an hour the computer wasn't working. I remember him completely losing his temper and yelling at me because I had broken the computer by plugging it in wrong. Being somewhat computer literate today (at least able to set up a computer ha ha), I realize that the computer had defects. I don't remember if there was any physical abuse that day. However, it never really was the physical abuse that set me off as a kid. I have scars all over from the bamboo sticks, belts, and toy swords I used to get lashed with, but I was always more upset about the reasons I was getting hit because I thought the hitting was normal.

Another memory comes from a time I remember as being a very bad time in my life. When I was going into high school my brother was in college. This was about 8 years ago. He made a huge mistake and was on charges for aggravated assault. The charges were eventually dropped but the toll it took on my family was already in place. My dad was constantly yelling for no reason and I know today that it had an effect on my brother.

Months later he had another brush with the law although this time it wasn't quite as serious. During this time I saw my dad become more emotionally abusive than before and I saw his irrationality and racist beliefs come into play, although this is something that I have just recently realized. Today my brother is back in school. It is clear that he still has extreme anxiety and depression. I'm just happy to see him doing something. As a kid he was my hero. I looked up to him and even when he was gone drifting from place to place, I always remember him as that same person I knew as a kid. I was in denial. When he came back this past year, coupled with my dad being diagnosed with lung cancer, it really had an effect on me.

Although he isn't able to physically abuse me anymore, he tries to emotionally abuse me and still does so to my mom. Over the summer, my mother and I cleaned out all the clutter from my house. I called him out on it 2 months ago and for the first time in years he tried to attack me physically when he couldn't think of anything to say. That's when I left the house. After being gone for a few months, I realized that he was still being abusive to my mother and my brother (the one who is back at school), and that something has to be done. This is where I am now.

During my years in college, I developed a relationship with my dad for the first time. I talked to him face-to-face and I had genuinely forgotten about the abuse. It was only when I saw the abuse in my own actions did I remember. I've said some horrible things and had racist attitudes, although this is never where my values lied. I do not know how to explain it, but to this day this is something I am dealing with and shedding myself of all these stereotypes I see in myself and in others I first meet. I want to see people for people.

Today I've realized that I too have bullied people. I was bullied throughout my life in school as well and I never realized that I was being bullied. I thought they were being friendly. I have said a lot of hurtful things and I got into fights throughout my years of school. It is only now that I am beginning to see reality. This is guilt I think I will have to live with for the rest of my life.

Today I have extreme social anxiety and at times I'm very depressed. But I feel I have moved forward and wouldn't have it any other way. This coming week I am seeking counseling with a therapist and I will see how it goes. I've made a commitment to end the cycle of abuse here, and I hope to one day help others to do the same.

I'm sorry for the incoherentness of this segment, and I really do appreciate what this site has done for me. Thanks.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Rhianna

by Rhianna
(United Kingdom)

My father physically, sexually and emotionally abused me from a young age. I am now in my 40s and am still struggling with the after-effects, which include severe depression and anxiety, suicidal feelings, flashbacks, relationship problems and low self-esteem.

He was a hospital consultant, thus holding a high status in society and in the eyes of others. People seem to find it hard to believe that anyone in this sort of profession could be capable of child abuse. In addition, he was a Jekyll and Hyde character - one person at work and with his friends, and another behind closed doors with the family.

He died in 2004 and his funeral was attended by many people. In addition, his work colleagues organised a memorial service in his honour and again many people attended. The focus was on what a wonderful caring person he was. He couldn't do enough to help others and did so much to advance his profession. If only they knew the truth - the other side!

I attended both these events, with great difficulty, because I wanted to support my mother. Looking back, I think I should have put myself first, stayed away and not put myself through this sort of trauma. My brother, who was also abused by him, did not attend. Can you imagine how painful it was to sit in the memorial service, held in a big hall with a huge photograph of him at the front and people talking endlessly about how wonderful he was!

During the refreshments afterwards I had to put up with one of his colleagues coming and telling me off. He approached me and in an accusing voice said, "Are you surprised there are so many people here?" I said, "No." He then continued. "Your father was a wonderful person and a wonderful father. He did not abuse you but treated you as any father would." He knew that at some point I had spoken out about the abuse. He then gave me a lecture, telling me such things as that I should be grateful that I've got my health. As I knew this man to be a "Christian" I tried to quote a passage from the Bible involving seeing things through a glass darkly, i.e. that he did not know the whole truth. After he spoke to me I was so devastated that I left the event in tears. Why do people seem to find the reality of child abuse so hard to accept - even up to the present day when there should be more awareness of it?

Some of my earliest memories involve having my father's penis shoved into my mouth - just thinking about this makes me feel extremely sick - a million miles away from the accolades of the memorial service! These experiences were truly devastating. I felt like an object, useless, worthless, just a lump of meat to be used and abused by my father. You are like a lump of meat being chopped up by the butcher. You are treated worse than an object or an animal.

The fact that it is your own father makes you feel more sick and worse, I think. Your parents are supposed to care for you, protect and love you; and when they don't, it can feel as though you deserve all the punishment, pain and abuse that you get. Maybe even God, (Who I believe in) wanted me to have parents like this, so what does that say about how worthless I am? God created me and my parents and so why did He not stop the abuse? Why does He allow such things to continue?

It's difficult to feel good about yourself when you have had experiences like this - the sexual abuse, the physical beatings, having your head banged against the wall repeatedly, being constantly told that you are useless and worthless, the lack of belief and support from others and from your family. You start to feel like a piece of rubbish.

Yet despite all this, I work in a therapeutic role. What an irony! Yes I understand how those I strive to help feel, but I also feel that I have got so far to go in my own healing process.

If anyone has got any ideas about how I can progress and move forward, then please let me know. It would be much appreciated! I don't want to continue to live with this amount of pain for the rest of my life.

Thank you for reading and for listening to my story.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Christina

by Christina
(Philadelphia, USA)

Many people don't know how hard it is to live through being sexually abused. You run to tell people you think you can trust but they don't believe you. It hurts especially when you are only nine years old. Ever since I've been sexually abused, I've push men away from me.

For a long time I walked around pretending to be happy when really I could care less if I would survive another day or not. I live on knowing that no one in my family believed me or even cared about me for those five years I was gone. What makes it even worse is that it was done by somebody I thought loved me. I was just a little girl and had no idea about all the sick things men do.

I hurt and think about it every day. It happened 8 years ago and still it haunts me to this day. What stays on my mind is where to go, who to trust and should I even still be here. I find myself asking god every day: Why me? Why did my life have to be ruined? Then I learned that there are other females that have been through the same thing, and females still going through it today. And all I can think of is how I wish I could put an end to it because no little girl deserves to go through what I've been through.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Christina" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Susan2

by Susan
(Location Undisclosed)

I am twenty-four years old and live alone in a city a few miles from where I was born. Though I am told often how pretty I am, I don't feel so pretty. Though I am friendly and polite, I don't really have friends. I trust no one and fear the rest of my life will be no better.

For about eight years of my life, until I was fourteen years old, my Aunt Jackie, my mother's sister was the most "important" person in my life. She was closer to me than anyone, even my own mother. She was my protector, confidante and my best friend; but, as I would come to understand later, she was also the one most detrimental to my happiness and well being.

My family lived next door to my grandparents, and their youngest daughter, Jackie still lived at home during my childhood. I loved to go there, as it was the only place I was allowed to come and go as I pleased. Jackie was exactly 10 years older than I; and with her being what I thought was a cooler than cool teenager, I was completely in awe of her. She played the piano quite well and would always invite me to her room to play. I am unsure just when Jackie started showing sexual interest in me. But my earliest memory that I can put a date on came about while she was making love to me. When she remarked that, she was 16 and I was 6; words that stuck in my head for some reason.

Unlike many stories of this kind, there was no forced rape, or outright coercive treatment. Given the strictness and hostile atmosphere of home, and having a mother who showed zero affection to me, it was quite a treat to go to Grandmom's. My grandparents and Aunt Jackie always treated me special: good home cooked meals, cookies and milk, fancy desserts; plus, kind and temperate conversation–something I was totally unused to at home. Often, in the course of my visit, Jackie would invite me to her room and lock the door behind us. I wish now that my Grandmom would have spoken up, to have insisted that the door stay open, or at least unlocked. Funny, now that I think of it, I never remember my grandmother or grandfather interrupting us, or even knocking on the door. Less occasionally, we went on long walks around my grandfather's ample property. She knew a special dark and shady place just beyond the vegetable garden. She called it "our" place.

In her room, she developed a familiar pattern. She would have me sit on a bench in her lap allowing me to play the keyboard while she held me close. She would brush my hair, as I played, then massage me under my blouse and kiss my neck and tell me how beautifully I played. Eventually she would invite me to her bed to rest awhile. She would undress me, and then undress herself. We would wrap together and she would move in such a way that excited her and pleased me. In our outside place, she made up games with me as the damsel in distress and she would alternately play the villain and the rescuer. She would tell me how beautiful and precious I was; and as her reward she was permitted to make love to me.

In my younger years I was mostly the submissive one, as Jackie didn't force me to do anything I didn't feel comfortable doing. It is hard to say this now, but I actually loved our relationship in those early times. I remember sitting at home, suddenly feeling a flush of emotion and longing, then running to Grandmom's hoping that Jackie would be home. I couldn't wait to be alone with her. Had I understood the toll it would take on me later, perhaps I would have showed some restraint. But, I was a child. How can a child show restraint when there is no adult intervention, none to teach the right thing when it came to something so suppressed? Sex was never talked about in our home or the little private school I attended. Though, I suspected it was wrong for children to do it, I was absolutely certain that it was never to be talked about. Jackie simply told me that it was nobody else's business, and that if it ever got out, I would be sent to the principal's office and soon all the school would know about it. Me, being a shy and self conscious child, it never crossed my mind to tell, even when things changed later on. Later, Jackie's love making became more sordid and she pressured me into ramping up my attention to her. At fourteen, I was very womanly in appearance and confused at heart. A rendezvous at her apartment, the first one we'd had in about a year, proved to be our last. She drove me home that night in silence; and I don't believe I had ever felt more ashamed. I had finally grown up in this one painful respect.

Contrary to what most child abuse victims say, I loved our time together in those pre-pubescent years. It was only when I started to define my own identity, sexual and otherwise that I ran into problems. Because of the abuse at the hands of my aunt, and exposure far too early for any child, I later on failed to understand or comprehend the right way of addressing relationships, the attention of boys, or even whether I was gay or straight. My fantasies were always about boys, so I supposed I was straight.

Somehow in the course of all this uncertainty and shame, I pulled away from everyone. I dated boys from time to time because I knew I was pretty, but always froze far before it got serious. I am twenty four now and I have never had normal sex with a man and only one rather unpleasant affair with another older woman only a few years younger than my mother, a married woman at that.

I am sitting here now in tears feeling more alone than ever before. My small gift of some writing ability allows me to express these things to your website. I don't know where to go from here.

Though there were some whispered, small-town rumors about Jackie being a lesbian when I was in high school, no one ever suspected that she and I were involved. At least, I don't think so. Oddly, Jackie got married a few years ago to a local attorney, and now has a big plush home and a new baby girl. She teaches Sunday school at her church; and on the surface seems to be very happy and well adjusted in her suburban bliss. God, how I hate her so. We sometimes will meet during family crisis and such, and the tension between us could not be greater. Always she will go out of her way to speak to me; and I always turn away in disgust. At times, I've wanted every one to know that behind this wholesome, accomplished visage is a child molester and rapist that should not be allowed to walk among decent people.

It is difficult to hate someone so, and at the same time speak openly about how much I loved her once, how much I relied upon her affection. It is supreme irony that I can express such hatred, but admit on the other hand that I dearly miss her affection; the only love (genuine or otherwise) I've ever known. Admitting such I suppose means that I can forgive her now. This I have not been fully able to do, not even within my own mind and heart. But I am trying. If only she had expressed her love in wholesome and friendly, familial terms, we could possibly have remained truly the best of friends.

Thanks for letting me tell my story. I only admitted this to one person: a psychiatric counselor that I saw for a short time. She recommended I attend child abuse survivor meetings; but as yet I have not had courage to do so. I hope letting this out now will help me. Again, thank you so much.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Susan2" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Josie W

by Josie W
(Florida, USA)

Growing up, I thought I had the quintessential childhood: a father who was a well-respected doctor in a small town in Missouri, a mother who baked delicious pies and tended large summer gardens, and a brother whom I regarded as "my child." All this, and a huge home in the countryside, replete with orchards and a personal creek.

Growing up amongst the pastures of cows and horses that bordered our home, I was content to ramble the dusty roads, sample the ripening blackberries and catch the wayward turtles that crossed my path. At night, on my knees, I prayed the prayers my now dead grandmother taught me. In view of a stoic moon, I sought solace beneath a frayed blanket. Little did I know I was evolving differently from others, scarred by the horrendous events in my life. The "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" were aimed not at my family, but at me. Love came darkly cloaked as abuse: mental, physical, sexual. Tough warrior that I was, I bore the barbs of my father's words, his robber baron's touch. In collusion with him, my mother's beatings, her indifference to my suffering.

Child of nature, traveler of the sun, I endured acts unnatural, and dark. In my father's bed, innocence was lanced, virginity plundered. In my father's world, behind closed doors, there were no eyes to see, mouths to condemn, nor ears to hear my silent cries. A monstrous moon, dressed in molester's garb, extinguished me. In place of me lay a scavenged soul, devoid of sensation. He, the father-doctor, took his measure of me, leaving chaff behind.

With his words, he gutted me as dead fish. "Moron, idiot, whore" became my name. In violent outbursts, he unloved me, scooped out my pulp as a Halloween pumpkin. My mother, mute witness to his words, burned my flesh with belts and switches. Love me, love me not, the daisy chain was broken.

Good child, bad child, my mind cluttered with rage. Good child, bad child, you shall rue tomorrow. Today, you are their daughter, grown in a house of sorrow. Your father, a doctor meant to heal, instead harms. A mother, meant to nurture, instead neuters. In the house of Hell, there is no exit. Tomorrow is a parody of the past.

Growing up, I was the mother to them all: mother, father, brother. I was the turtle with the world's weight on my shoulders. Quiet, compulsive, obedient. Strong at the sinews, I stitched together the fabric defined as "family," the secret a geometric pattern in the spider web. I bought into illusions defined for me by "Father God" and his co-creator.

By day, I was the good child: cooking, cleaning, tending to my father's practice. By night, I was the other child, consumed by anger and hate. Alone, lonely, brittle in spirit. I endured, as abused children will, without recourse, my parents diabolical actors on a surreal stage. With no voice, no power of my own, I persevered, fragmented to the bone. Don't tell, don't tell the mantra of my mind.

Now I am grown, and part of me is gone, void, never to be retrieved. The ghosts of yesterday still haunt and torment me. Lean in spirit, I survive, sometimes barely. The child inside rattles as ripe seed, relentlessly. The tears are now mere rivulets in a dry creek bed. Gone is the tender nostalgia, replaced by corrupted memories. Love, warped by backward reflection, shall never come to pass, and yet a flickering light illuminates that which is to come.

I write to free the ghosts. I write to free the child inside. Though ropes imagined bind my hands, the child, once mute, clamors to be heard. The child, strangled by the abuse, screams out the words: The evil ones, they are the ones to blame. The child is innocent, though scarlet at the core. So shall you hear, and live beyond the lies. So shall you, too, speak the words of truth, unshackled by the past. Together, we shall bear the burden, lightening its load. Not hostages, but Hercules conjoined.
For in the final resolution, we know: silence is not golden, but death.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Sue Part 3

by Sue
(Chicago, USA)

I am as of 14 minutes ago 14. I should be happy, but no im not. Im scared! I started to cut a little. Im so sad . I can't stop thinking about how my mom hit me with my softball bat. I want to be loved. I want a hug from her. I want to be held. Told that im loved not sworn at. I sometimes cry whenever i have to go home. My mom isn't talking o me now and it's my birthday. Not even a happy b-day. Nothing. I'm scared because i dont know what is going to happen next. I was scared for my life at one point. And now i'd rather take my life for my self. I'm so sad and i feel like no one can help me.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Amanda4 Part 2

by Amanda
(Heber Springs, Arizona, USA)

I have written before...I have had to learn the hard way: 
Here I am going to be twenty five years old this year and I am finally realizing that as much as I wanted to work things out with my mom who abused me when I was younger, I had given her a second chance. Which was a big mistake again.

My mom went to prison when I was nine or ten years old for beating my twin sister and I. I had to give up years ago on her. Not that I was afraid to die, but I wasn't going to let her kill my twin sister. That is something I would never have been able to live with, so I turned my mom in. I am a Christian and I believe that Jesus died on the cross for our sins and came back to forgive us. I thought the right thing to do was to forgive my mom for everything she had ever done and let my stepdad do. But I was wrong for doing that. Maybe I wasn't ready to forgive her. Maybe I will never be ready to forgive her.

My mom got out of prison ten years later. I had made plans to go and see her a few times. Every time I made those plans something come up at the last moment. I believe things happen for a reason. I would call her to tell her I wasn't going to be able to come and things had come up and were really important that I don't come this time. One day I will. That's what I always tell her. She would always cry and make me feel like crap. Again there was emotional abuse there still is years later. It bothered me so much to hear her cry, so I quit talking to her on the phone. She would cry and tell me that her heart was hurting and she was having a hard time breathing and what not. All that would go through my head is why are you crying? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't I be the one crying? I mean, she did those things to me. I didn't do it to her. The only thing I did was turned her in out of fear my twin would die. Was that really so wrong of me?

So instead of talking to her on the phone I helped her set up a MySpace page and added her to my Yahoo messenger. Whenever I would go online and noticed that she was on there, I would stop in and see how she was doing...what's new in her life...but it was like every time something would go wrong and I would end up mad and we would fight. But this time it was to the point she called my phone and left me a voicemail that made me cry. It hurt me so bad. Keep in mind I have been trying to gain a relationship with my mom again, so yeah I was putting myself in a position to get hurt again. But I guess I did that by choice.

I went through a little spell of not talking to her and I started to have problems to where my chest started to hurt and my blood pressure would rise to the point I was ready to die...felt like I was going to anyway. It started when I worked at Burger King. I had opened this one day and my life partner at the time was at work with my twin sister and my little sister that night. Burger King was in the process of opening another outlet in that town so I figured I could use the money and would go over there and help clean up. I mean everyone else was at work.

We all got off about the same time and we were sitting in the living room just talking and I was playing with my nephew. The next thing I know I am waking up at the hospital with a heart monitor hooked up to me...I was so scared...didn't know how I got there or even why I was there. They wouldn't let my twin come back there till my blood results come back they wanted to make sure I didn't OD or anything on drugs.

At this time I figured out that I should talk to my mom again to find out some of my medical problems that I could have possibly inherited from that part of the family. So I went online and started to talk to her on messenger since I refused to hear her cry. She told me, and then we just got to talking and she acted like she was worried about me. So since she was acting like that I figured it was time for her to finally answer all the questions I had asked her before and she never would answer. This time she did and it was just devastating. How could you beat two out of seven kids...and the response she said was because we are the only twins in our whole family and we got all the attention. We got whatever we wanted and the others had to deal with what they were given. My twin sister today has two kids and she doesn't lay a hand on either one because one gets more attention than the other! I made that fact known to her.

Time has gone on and my sisters and I had made plans to go and see our brothers this past fourth of July. I wasn't going to go; it had been fourteen years. I was scared. It was like meeting strangers.

Well, time was getting closer and I was going to go I finally decided. About five days before it was time to go, my brothers backed out because our mom found out somehow. Thanks to her, things got ruined in my life again.

Well, I deleted my mom out of my life again. How can you say you are sorry and turn around and still continue to ruin things in my life?

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Stacy Lynn

by Stacy Lynn
(USA)

I'm not sure where to start. When I was 5 my parents divorced. I don't remember a lot of the reasons why they did except that it was my dad's fault: he used to beat my mom. I have a decent relationship with him now but that's not why I'm writing.

My story is the typical mom meets guy. Guy is nice and then a stupid 5th grader comes home after sex education and asks her stepfather about it.

I thought I could trust him to explain it. He said he could show me his parts to explain it better so he slipped off his pants and pointed and told me the function of each part. He then asked me to take mine off. I did and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. I wasn't scared. I wasn't worried about getting in trouble. The whole situation was just like any other conversation we ever had.

After that I don't remember a lot of how it progressed. I remember it happened all the time though, the fondling, usually at night after my mom went to bed and after school before she came home. Eventually it progressed from oral to vaginal to anal rape. I don't ever remember it hurting. I think I just disconnected from myself. I have vague memories of different occurrences but it seems odd I don't have clearer recollections. The abuse happened everyday for 6 years. I don't think I was ever drugged or anything. I think a lot of it's just blocked out.

The only things I do remember are things that are related to the abuse, like I slept on the floor for the 6 years it happened I had a perfectly good bed but I assume I didn't want the noise to wake up the rest of the family. I also remember a jar of Vaseline in my sock drawer. I also remember a blue blanket that he used to covered us up while we watched TV so none of the rest of the family could see what was going on underneath.

He also did things with my sister. She is 2 years younger than me, and from the effects of the abuse, she was completely uncontrollable. So the summer she turned 14, my mother sent her to live with my aunt. While she was there she told. I still don't remember a lot of the trial. I know I was the only one who had the charges stick. Nothing from my sister's abuse was ever punished, but he got 8 years in jail for molesting me.

I haven't really scratched the surface of what went on, but I guess I'm writing this to tell everyone not to protect your abuser. I was never threatened and never told not to tell, but on some level I knew it was wrong, but I had to make sure Mom was still happy and that my new dad was happy. That's just who I was then.

I am really glad my sister told. She was an amazingly strong person to do that. I have always felt guilty that I could not protect her, and in the end her abuse was never handled correctly. I got all the counseling and all of the charges against him and basically all the attention. I'm pretty sure that this happened because she was never penetrated.

None of this is fair. My sister is the one who was strong and told, and she is the one who is still suffering.

I am a full-time married college student thriving in my double major and starting my third major in eight months. I have everything I ever wanted. My sister is a stripper and a drug addict. She has 4 wonderful kids that my mom raises. My sister lives in the basement at my mom's and sleeps all day and goes to work at night. I have no idea how to get through to her. It's just a sad situation. My sister doesn't have the money to go to counselling or get help and I don't know where to find the resources to help her. If I just had some way of helping her remember who she was I know she would thrive also. She's a beautiful person inside and out when she is clean.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kathryne

by Kathryne L
(Chicago Illinois, USA)

My abuse started from as far back as I can remember and has been passed down to my oldest daughter to continue it emotionally. You see, I called for help when I was a little girl, when my stepfather tried to molest me and when my mother came in she told him she would kill him if he ever touched me again and then told me she would kill me if I ever laid down with him again. I was about 4-5 years old. That was when my life became a living hell. Because she hated me and so did he.

And so she would beat me with ironing cords, or waffle cords, ashtrays, anything she could get her hands on for anything I did, and he would get me in trouble all the time, and always criticize me and put me down. I would cry when it rained because this old lady told me she was a witch and she was going to get me one night and she would beat me because he couldn't sleep. And they wouldn't allow me to have any friends or go anywhere.

When they had a son, he wanted her to give him up for adoption. She left him, and my grandmother made her go get him so she treated him like gold and his father ignored him and she would tell my brother that he ignored him because I was his little princess because that was what he used to call me. So my brother grew up hating me and distant.

I would be terrified all the time when my stepfather was in a room and we were alone. I was scared to death by 12. I first tried to take my own life because God was the only real father I ever had and he would comfort me and promise to send me Christ some day that would save me. So when I get real depressed I just want to go home to heaven.

In high school I started cutting school to be able to have friends. I fell in love at 16 with this boy and we planned to get married when I was 18. We had to sneak around and because I loved God so much I wanted to wait until we got married to have sex so he didn't care, and just before I was 18 I ran away and went to stay with my mother's brother and his pregnant. girlfriend and he got drunk and I had my boyfriend come over and tell him I WASN'T GOING BACK and when he left his girlfriend went to bed and my uncle raped me because he thought because I had a boyfriend we had sex. Afterwards his girlfriend went into labor and I went home, terrified and afraid to tell anybody and so ashamed and I broke up with my boyfriend and started drinking and going out all the time and tried to kill myself again and my mother refused to come to the hospital and my stepfather came and we started going out and I forgot about the abuse through my drunken binge, and I would pray to forget until I did and began sleeping around and then I went out with a bus driver and he date raped me the first night we went out and got me pregnant, so that was my first abortion, which was devastating because of my REAL FATHER GOD but he told me he would send it back to me, so for the next five years I dated I would get into relationships and got pregnant three more times and my mother would threaten to kill me if I kept it and the guys didn't want it so I would give them back to God because I would do whatever she told me to do out of fear. Well, I can't write no more right now.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From K2 Part 5

by K2
( Location Undisclosed)

There are a lot of pieces i still dont like talking about, but i wanted people to know...there was another person that hurt me as a child sexually but i dont want to mention who because its really embarrassing...and i want people to know i just cant talk about that one, which is why i said it was 4 people that hurt me as a child when it was actually more...im still trying to accept that what happened was what it was...and its really embarrassing...and ashaming...more so than any other bits...i think...i really dont know any more...im not who i used to be any more...im not as able to handle things as i used to be...what happened most recently has made things a lot harder to handle...and ive been pretending im ok for quite some time when im really not...i still feel like im to blame for everything, like im a horrible person, like i dont deserve anything good...its all my fault what has happened...
its all my fault...im sorry...

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Daedra

by Sydney
(Dallas, Texas, USA)

I share my story now, years after the fact, because I believe in my life I have come to a place where I can call myself a survivor. I can say that I lived, and I survived, and now I want to make things different. I don't know how.

I was a good child. I don't mean just good, exceptional. I was reading high school level books when I was 8. I was quick, I was orderly, I was kind. I tried my hardest, and somehow, I always failed. So my mother said. The nightmares have stopped in the 3 years since I ran away, but the screaming in my head is still there. She called me ugly, bitch, selfish, cruel, irresponsible, stupid, ignorant. She called me evil. She would roar like a bear and stomp down the halls, throwing my toys, slamming doors, she pointed, she made me get on my knees and do whatever she wanted. I scrubbed floors, I did the dishes, made her bed, cleaned her room, cleaned the bathroom, I did everything in the house because a clean house was the only thing that would stop the screaming. She made me sleep with her, naked, and she detailed every "ugly" part of my body since I was 6. She put me on diets that year, liquid diets, I ate barely anything around her, then went to my grandmother's and ate everything she would offer me. I walked on a sprained ankle, miles, from school, because she said I was "faking it." I took over at her job as a house cleaner while I had a fever of 102, until her boss noticed and gave me tea and a good place to sleep.

I had no friends, she drove them off. I was told what I thought didn't matter, that I was exactly like her, that my ideas, my philosophies were evil. I was demon-possessed. I was in college by the time I was 14, I had a steady job and I kept the house, I did the cooking, and it wasn't enough. If I forgot the directions to the DMV she would start roaring and driving like a maniac until I was screaming at her to stop the yelling, the noise. She was angry when the black mold in our rat-infested house gave me an aggressive allergic reaction, she screamed at me when the Benadryl wasn't working, "YOU THINK I TOOK YOU TO THE DOCTOR FOR NOTHING?"

I won, though. I ran away 3 times, the third time it worked. I had developed friends online, the only place I could, I developed my own religious and philosophical beliefs, and I ran. I ran to my boyfriend and I married him. She never came after me, because in my note I told her I would go to the police if she ever tried to hurt me again. I'm 19. I'm applying to medical school. Next year, with any luck, I'll be there. My husband and I celebrated our second anniversary, one year of it spent while he was in Iraq. I have friends. I tell people what I think. I went into therapy.

And still, I hear the screaming when I think about it, and I don't know what to do with the hate. I hate my mother. I feel no love, no connection to her. She told me many times she was going to kill herself, so when I was 8 I came up with my plan for when she did it--threatening suicide was just one of her guilt games, but even so, I felt it best to accept that if she died it would only benefit me. She didn't want me, anyway. I found out she wanted to abort me but didn't because my father begged her not to, and that she was on drugs that she bought with the divorce settlement. Sad, really, because I read some poetry she wrote before she got the drugs, and she seemed like a nice person. I look at children and I think how strange for them to be loved, I look at pictures of the house I grew up in before my mother kicked my father out, and I think, what a house, with a father who loved his child, a house that soon became a den of pain, the backyard filled with trash and the rats from the infested walls. I want no children, but I want to help children. I want to make a difference.

Maybe medicine is the answer to all of that, but I feel like there should be more, that I should do more...but I don't know how.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Mark1

by Mark
(Iowa, USA)

Was abused when I was a child: 
I was beaten from my dad with a belt or anything he had in his hand like a wrench—I was abused by my Boy Scout master, that I thought was a person you are suppose to look up to for advice, or a person you should be able to trust. He raped me many times, over and over. He said it would be our secret. He put me in his Will, gave me gifts. I was too afraid to tell my parents about what he did to me. I never told anyone for many years.

He took me on vacation with him to see his brother, which then both of them raped me together. My mom & dad thought he was a great Scout master.

I went into hard drugs and started drinking, tried many times to commit suicide just to relieve the pain I went through for so many years.

I'm 53 years old now and been married for 31 years, got 2 kids which were adopted. I watch them like a Hawk—everywhere they went, who they were going to see, made sure I met their parents.

I'm depressed, angry, have problems with high blood pressure. I think about suicide every day. Lost my sex drive, never want to have sex with my wife after what happen to me even many years ago. It's hard to let go and move on with my life. Hope nobody has to go through what I've been through.

Mark

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Sarah A

by Sarah A.
(Ontario, Canada)

I can't remember how old I was when the first abuse took place. I think I was 3 or 4, just a baby. I only get vague flashbacks of details. My mother had left my father and we were living in a small apartment with only one bed. It must have been one of her boyfriends. When she dumped me with one of my aunts, I was very sick and had some severe emotional problems.

They took me to a babysitter during the day. She was in her living room most of the day watching TV while the kids where in the garage, which had been converted into a play room. I remember "playing" games which involved touching each others' genitals. When they found out about this, I was taken to a counsellor, and there I guess I had revealed some disturbing things.

At the same time, I started visiting my father on the weekends. He was very depressed and on drugs, I think. He started French kissing me and told me I reminded him of my mother. He would kiss me a lot that way and it felt wrong, but it was the only attention he had shown me. I also remember he had me rub his penis with baby oil and put it in my mouth. I can't remember if he actually penetrated me, but I do remember lying in front of him naked as he rubbed his penis against me and saying something so disgusting that I won't repeat it. I am so disgusted as I write this but I have to get these horrible things out of my head. This abuse happened when I was 5 and has had damaged me so bad that I am now struggling with alcoholism and depression. The thing that makes me the most angry is that my family knew about this and let me live with him after the abuse. They had me lie to social workers to protect him.

I have very little contact with him now. I got out at 16. He has 4 small kids now that he gets to see on the weekends. I pray that they never get abused in any way.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Sarah A" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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Child Abuse Story From Jillian Part 2

by Jillian
(Kentucky, USA)

Seventeen and confused Again: 
I read everyones stories over and over again but yet this is only my second entry. My last one explained how emotionally and physically abusive my moms husband was, He was a drunk.

Things have chillled out alot and he has stopped drinking finally. But the thing now is that he watches me and waits for me to do even the tinyest thing wrong and jumps all over me for it. My mom and I are trying to figure out what his deal is.

He is a coal miner and works thirds. So during the day he sleeps. I hardly ever see him which is great but when i do he just seems to b**** and even when I dont see him he gripes to my mom about all these things I do that are horrible and i should get in trouble for. Im not a bad person at all. And most of the time i just blow if off. But lately it is getting bad.

Idk what to do about it. I graduate in five months and soon will not live there. But til then I don't know what I am suppose to do.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Lonely at Heart Part 5

by Sandra
(Tampa, Florida, USA)

I wonder if am going to live in fear for the rest of my life? I hope that I don't but right now I am afraid of everything that has happened and once again I can't help but feel as if I am that scared little girl (teenager) that had NO CLUE what to do...but I am searching for that light at the end of the tunnel and when I find it...I WILL BE COMPLETELY FREE!!!

I know that I have to go to counseling and I know that I have to do it for me and no one else. But, if it's hard for me with just a few written words how is it going to be when I am in front of someone actually talking about it. I did the other day with my sister for the first time sit face to face and I think I did good when it came to holding it together. But then again, I try and hold myself together all the time in front of family. So I don't know if it was just that...habit...or if she could see through me straight to my pain.

Pain...there are others in pain today and although they may never say it, I KNOW they are in pain. And although my heart tells me to ask for forgiveness...I WILL NOT!! I have NOTHING to regret...you cannot hide the sun with your hands and enough is enough. Myself and my family have been dragged through the mud for years by Juancho (see below for links to Part 1, 2 and 3 of Lonely at Heart's story) and my aunt and I am sick of it!! I know one day I will forget OR simply LEARN to live with how everything has happened but I can't right now. The wound has been opened again and a bottle of lemon juice has been poured on it, as I was made to feel once again like I AM THE RESPONSIBLE one for what happened to me!!

Through email words and disrespect between two adults who were raised as sisters (myself and their eldest daughter), I made it a point to end the BS with a punch to the gut...and responded to sarcasm, attitude and fake wishes, with: "I HOPE & PRAY THAT YOU AND YOUR FAMILY NEVER HAVE TO ENDURE WHAT MYSELF AND MY FAMILY WENT THROUGH FOR THE PAST 17 YEARS DUE TO YOUR FATHER RAPING ME FOR 9 YEARS!"

And Oh Lord, all hell broke loose...please know that the person that received that response KNEW about THEE incident and remembered everything that happened with her father when she was a child. So, why continue pretending and talking in code....NO!! ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!! I know in my heart that the responsible one of this whole ordeal is HIM for taking advantage of me, and my AUNT for covering it up and NEVER EVER thinking that or saying to herself...."My kids are older, they understand more, I need to talk to them, so that my 'OLDEST DAUGHTER' (as she always called me) can get the help that she needs...I know this must be hard for her..." But NOPE, she couldn't do that....she had to cover EVERYTHING for him as she always does!! I ask myself, how can you look in the mirror, knowing that your ENTIRE life is a LIE and be happy with what you see?? What gives you the right to talk, make fun of, pick on, ridicule, call names, and laugh at someone else's expense when YOU are the joke!?!

I was called MISERABLE yesterday and it hurt a bit but not as bad as being told that I am a LIAR!! Yes, there is a saying: MISERY loves company...not me...MY AUNT...oh yes...she wants everyone to be just as miserable as she has lived, and to tell you the truth...it's SAD. But it's life, she chose to stay with a rapist and she chose to sleep with him AGAIN AFTER SHE KNEW WHAT HE HAD DONE TO ME and she had another child by him. They are still together...well then, be happy and let others be happy as well!! Stop worrying about what others do with their lives and worry about yours...I stayed quiet for so many years because I didn't want it to be me, the one to break my cousins' heart...but had I had a crystal ball and known that regardless of ANYTHING, I was going to feel or be blamed for the "SECRET" coming out...I would have followed through with my case in NYC when I was 16 and HE would be in prison right now! My aunt would have NEVER been ABLE to talk about ANYONE!! With what face, if her husband and father of her kids RAPED THEIR OWN NIECE!!

I GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO STAND UP WITH YOUR HEAD HELD HIGH AND OPEN YOUR BIG MOUTH, TO TALK AND RIDICULE ME AND EVERYONE IN OUR FAMILY...I GAVE THAT RIGHT TO YOU...DO NOT FORGET IT! BECAUSE WITH YOUR HUSBAND BEHIND BARS, YOU WOULD HAVE NOTHING TO SAY ABOUT ANYONE, BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING WORSE THAN A CHILD RAPIST!!!

DO NOT PLACE BLAME ON OTHERS FOR WHAT YOU AND YOUR HUSBAND MADE HAPPEN!! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN KISSING MY FAMILY'S FEET FOR YOUR HUSBAND'S FREEDOM!! BUT NO, YOU THINK THAT 17 YEARS OF YOUR NEGATIVITY, INSULTS, RIDICULE, CONSTANT FIGHTING AND PUTTING "D, K & J" AGAINST ME AND MY FAMILY WOULD BE ACCEPTED??...A PERSON GETS FED UP AND I AM BEYOND FED UP!! IT IS TIME FOR ME TO START LIVING MY LIFE!! AND I WILL, WITH MY HEAD UP HIGH WHERE IT SHOULD HAVE ALWAYS BEEN...YOU CAN CONTINUE TO SAY ANYTHING THAT YOU WANT TO SAY ABOUT MY FAMILY AND ME...FACT IS...WE ARE GETTING MUCH CLOSER AS A FAMILY LIKE NEVER BEFORE, MY ISSUE IS BEING SPOKEN ABOUT AND THEY ARE HELPING ME THROUGH IT AND BY THE TIME WE ARE DONE, OUR BOND WILL BE STRONGER THAN...YOU...HAVE EVER BEEN!!

I WILL PRAY FOR YOUR SOUL BECAUSE YOU WILL NEED ALL THE PRAYER IN THE WORLD...AND I WILL PRAY THAT MY COUSINS WILL ONE DAY THINK FOR THEMSELVES AND PLACE BLAME ON THE RIGHT PERSON...NOT ME! AND THAT THEY FIND IT IN THEIR HEARTS TO FORGIVE ME FOR ANY WAY THAT I MAY HAVE WRONGED THEM!!

See Part 1, Part 2,Part 3 and Part 4 of Lonely at Heart's story.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Second Grade Girl

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

I am no longer in second grade. I'm in my thirties and I can't hardly remember what happend. I can and am going to share my story here since things are starting to surface. I have read some other stories here and am deeply touched by the courage and survival of these other people. The aggressors are dirty not the victims but we are the ones who feel dirty.

My memories started coming back as feelings first. I have a half brother who came to visit recently. I have a three year old daugher and when I saw him playing with her I was uncomfortable. I felt he was touching, tickling and kissing her too much. My spouse felt the same way. When I saw that it made me remember some things.

As a child in second grade I was sent on an airplane by my dad and step mom to visit grandparents half way across the country (usa). My heart is starting to pound as I write this so I know that something did happen there. I remember at this age my bedroom had posters of pink unicorns and I like my little ponies. It was the summer. My grandfather was showing me around his house. He showed me his bedroom alone. He showed me his bathroom alone. He showed me the basement alone and this special little closet with lots of toys and games. He let me play with these special paper dolls that were my aunt's. (It turns out she remembers as an adult how she was being sexually abused by him as a child). I remember he showed me his work barns in his big back yard and made me a swing which I remember. He had me sleep in his daughter's old room...the one he molested.

I don't remember seeing a lot more than that except I have this weird memory of a penis. I get pain in my pelvis when I think of this. I also feel like he penetrated me with himself or something. It is hard to talk about this and I feel like I might be making a story in my head. But my step mom told me and after she told me I remembered something. She told me that after I got back from that trip I was different. I would lie on my bed naked and wouldn't move and was acting like a baby. This went on for a while. I guess they did not help me. I remember that. I remember when I got off the airplane from that trip I was crying and screaming and running to my step mom. From that time on I did not like attention from men. I had detention almost the whole year on third grade and couldn't do my math. I had violent nightmares where I'd kick the walls and scream. I woke up with my legs bent up or open.

As a young adult I was drunk a lot and had many sexual partners. I have some type of damage on my cervix. I often find myself not being able to know that I am an adult.

When I talked to my dad about this (the son of my grandfather) he dismisses it and says it never happened. And when I told him that I didn't like the way his son was acting toward my child he accused me of doing something wrong. Now I find it impossible to talk to my dad and I don't know why. This issue has me hiding from any contact with him to resolve the issue of his son's behavior. I am happy I don't remember whatever happened. I got a BA in psychology and I am glad I did so at least on books I know how to have a healthy family. My husband does tell me I am weird about sex and honestly I have a difficult time with it and feel like it's dirty and that men are pervert pigs.

I feel like apologizing for some reason right now and I know I shouldn't.

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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed10

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

Trapped Somewhere in the Past: 
Children should be seen and not heard.
Respect has to be earned by children.
Children never argue with adult decisions.
Whatever means it takes to control a rebellious child is okay.
Children aren't really people until they grow up.

I can remember these words being said many times through the lifetime of me growing up. My first memory of any sex abuse was at the age of four. The memory is very fuzzy too, but I remember a lot of blood and my aunt (whom we lived with) watching from a chair nearby. Afterwards, she took me to her bed until I could once again walk. I don't remember much after that.

For years and years my sister and I endured countless beatings and sexual assaults at the hands of my father and his sister. I enjoyed the sex with my aunt because they always ended with lots of hugs and gentle stroking. I guess anyone who enjoys that gets what they deserve.

My sister left and married at the age of 18, running away in the middle of the night. By this time my father's sister had passed away. I was left with this man who was crazed with the idea that I was going to leave him too. I was pregnant soon after my sister left, which ended in an abortion (another sin I have done).

When I was of age, I found my own apartment but not before informing my father where I was living. The last sexual attack between us was about 6 months ago. Being that I am in my thirties, the idea of my innocence has faded away like the feeling of childhood innocence faded long ago. I have pressed charges finally, at the insistence of my husband of many years.

I am alone. I am sad. And I don't know how to bring myself out of this sea of despair that I have brought upon myself. My father is a very violent man but as violent as he is, I still care for his well-being more than even my own sometimes. He has always been very forceful in his sexual acts. But as an adult, I should have done something to change it long long ago. I just don't know what to do. I don't even know if I care enough to do it anymore.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed10" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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Child Abuse Story From Kennesaw Poem 3

by Kennesaw T
(Georgia, USA)

And so we Fight on 
And so we fight on,
remembering days long gone.
Staring through the fog and rain,
It's hard not to think of the pain.
Every single day,
Is still a fight in some way.
Every single night,
In sleep we search for the light.
We live, we learn, we love,
but deep down we never really rise above.
We're troubled or trouble and misunderstood,
most of us bad, but some of us are good.
We watch the world around us as normal passes by,
we know not normal, but still we must try.
We wonder why,
why we still must cry.
When young you try to fight all the evil that others do,
Then you find out, they don't arrest them, they arrest you.
You go on living watching mothers and children die,
You watch the news each day and in front of everyone you cry.
Your children do not understand,
to them you'd never raise your voice or hand.
You see them in your church, your school, on the street,
you see the abuse in the eyes of many children you meet.
You want to believe it's over, that it's time has past,
but the numbers prove it lives on and that it will last.
So you figure out a way to fight,
a way that society thinks is right.
And you fight on,
you fight on with a poem, a book, a song.
You speak with hail and brimstone as often as you can,
you scream out to the world, abuse me if you can, I am a man.
Others fight the fight as well,
people who never lived the hell.
You hug them, thank them, bless their hearts,
because they are where the end really starts.
And so we fight on,
with an army not alone.
Will we ever stop it, no way.
but we make a difference every day.
We're out there still shivering, scared, trying to survive,
we're counting on all of you to save us and keep us alive.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From The Lonely Girl

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

I am a victim of emotional abuse. Not so bad, no marks no pain right? Wrong. Never being touched can be just as hurtful.

No hugs, no love. They tried, my parents did; to love me. But they just didn't know how. They didn't grow up with it either. They are very angry people, and their anger often got the best of them. Which meant that I got it.

Yelling was something I heard daily. My parents had endless issues with their marriage. Saying horrible things that just shouldn't be said, whether married or not. Even as a six-year-old I'd try to intervene and beg them to stop saying such horrible things. This would only result in ME getting yelled at.

Sure I got battered around sometimes, mostly just to scare me. But what hurt most was their words. Saying I was worthless and that they regret ever having me. That'd if they had more money they would send me away forever. And even though at that point it was what I wanted, it still hurt to hear my own parents, the people who created me, say things like that. I didn't know why they did it though. I would try to figure out what I was doing wrong. All I could come up with was...they were angry.

I was quiet in school. Teachers wondered but never asked. One even recommended I talked to the school counselor because I'd sit silent and alone at recess. In second grade I remember going to school with a bruise on each arm. I shook my teacher's hand good morning as we did every day. I saw her eyes linger on my arms and her lips parted to make a comment but then closed again. "My daddy did it," I told her before she asked. "Oh," she replied with a grimace, but said nothing more. She didn't want to get involved.

I told law enforcement when I got older. But they didn't care about all the things my parents said to me. They cared about all the past physical abuse I suffered. I told them time and time again that the physical things didn't matter. It was their constant cruel words that left the scars. But that wasn't their priority.

I'd cry every night in my loneliness, curl up in a ball and imagine myself melting into the mattress and dissolving. All I ever did was read, to escape my own world. Wishing I could be in any of these books. I'd cut myself then run through the icy cold rain until I was numb, out of breath, and couldn't feel anything anymore. That's how I liked to feel: numb. Never liked drugs, the feeling scared me. I simply wanted to curl up and disappear. I attempted to drown myself a few times, but I realized I didn't want to die. I just wanted the pain to go away. So now I endure it. I am getting through it day by day. Suffering the feeling of being unloved and not wanted.

Psychologically I'm messed up. My idea of love is thrown off. I don't know what it feels like. I'm now 15 and a sophomore in high school. I push away anyone who tries to get close to me and open me up. I've tried having friends and boyfriends, but in the end I tell them I just can't do it. I tell them it's not their fault but that I just can't handle it right now. I'm always alone. It's hard for me to be around people. When people try to hug me I retreat. I just never experienced affection and am kind of afraid of it. In a little over two years I'll be able to move out. I promise myself if I get out of there I'll start over and learn how to love and be loved. I won't give up.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

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Child Abuse Story From Shayla

by Shayla
(Alaska, USA)

When I was younger, my mom and dad fought constantly. They were both alcoholics and drug addicts. I remember as a little girl, my mom always having people over. Guys would come in my room at night or I'd be sitting on the couch and random guys would feel my legs and rub on me.

My dad raped my brother numerous times.

My mom was violent. I remember one time she took me and my cousins to this lake. She had been drinking and it was late and cold. She shoved me in the lake and held me under the water for awhile. I kept trying to get back on the dock. She'd let me get halfway up then push me back me in.

My mom would abuse my dad sometimes. He was terrified of her. Me and my brother were watching TV and we saw my dad run passed us and we looked down the hall and my mom ran after him with a butcher knife. She started stabbing the door trying to get to him. He jumped out the window and broke his leg and took off down the street.

I rarely attended school. My mom was always too drunk or high. Me and my brother would leave and walk around the neighborhood all night. I came home from school and it was pouring rain. My mom locked me out of the house and said I couldn't come inside until I was dry.

When my little brother was born there were five of us living in a nasty motel room. My brother was 3 days old being fed a bottle with Dr. Pepper. My mom would yell and scream at him for him to shut up. She would call my aunt and say that she was going to throw him through the wall if he didn't stop. The social worker that was supposed to come and check on us would get drunk with my mom. I finally got out of this situation. It still affected me.

I have PTSD, depression, trauma-induced seizures, bipolar, ODD (Oppositional Defiant Disorder). I have to see counselors to cope with life. But even though I had a rough life, I'm making it on my own. I'm about to graduate from high school, have my first child, and I'm healthy. I don't do drugs or drink.

Don't blame what happens to you on the problems you have. You make the choice to be like that. You can be better than whoever it was that did you wrong. I am...

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Justin T

by Justin
(Houston, Texas, USA)

My abuse started from the time I was born. I have a twin and two younger siblings. Around the time I was old enough to talk, my dad was verbally and physically abusive.

My dad always reminded me how much he wanted my mom to get an abortion. How I and my twin were worthless and pieces of garbage to him. That I was "a nobody" and "better off dead."

He made me watch and sometimes videotape him beating on my mom. Treating her like a dog or a slave. He also made me watch him rape her. He called it "Man Lessons 101." From then on I had a twisted sense of how to treat a woman.

Sometimes he would molest my twin sister and make me watch after a severe beating. I would be so tired from his punches that I couldn't even rescue my sister. I felt responsible for everything going on.

By the age of thirteen I had found a new calming method. Cutting myself and drinking and doing drugs. Dad also taught me how to do that stuff a while back when I was little.

When I was fifteen, Dad shot me multiple times in the chest. I was put in the hospital for over a year.

Now I'm seeing a therapist and my girlfriend since high school is helping me live. I have been very suicidal since the shooting. I have lost contact with my family in fear of them blaming me for their childhood problems. I'm afraid that I caused everything, including the shooting incident.

To Justin T from Darlene: I have written a comment for you, but a temporary glitch may be preventing it from going live on the site. If you don't see your comment below, please be patient. I am working at getting the issue resolved.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Santagirl Part 1

by Santagirl
(Canada)

It's A Sin To Destroy A Child's Innocence: 
When you see me now i look like a normal kid, trying to create mischief and avoid school, experimenting, never backing down from a challenge. A friendly kid, always willing to help, and yet always complaining about her chores. I'm 14, I'm not the It girl (only cuz i don't like being popular tho, if i were to be popular i would get waaaaay too much attention), although people say I'm hott, or beautiful or whatnot. I never listen to them. They wonder why, sometimes I'm quiet, sometimes i can't seem to shut up soon enough. What only two people know tho, no one else can see.

One person saw it on me, saw how i seemed to be afraid of him a bit when i met him, also he was reading me from this book, which was like totally insane how accurate it was, than after a couple of drinks we were talking about abuse, rape, neglect, and he was like you've been abused. Just like that. No question, and he didn't ask me to elaborate, for which I'm grateful. Another person knows cuz i told him, after like 8 years of hiding it i needed some sort of release.

My mother and my dad got married when i was two, and divorced when i was 4 because my mother started using again. My dad thinks she might have used while she was pregnant with me. I went with my mother. She is a meth addict(and much else besides). She also sold her body to keep up her habit. The trailer we lived in was a dump pretty much. Her idea of hygiene was cheap perfume and hair dye. There was never anything humane to eat but i ate wat was there. I generally survived on secondhand smoke, toast, and mcdonalds. I washed my own laundry by the time i was 5, i always had to drag the chair from the kitchen to the laundry room so the i could reach. Parties were every nite. Cops showed up at least once a week. My mother told me they were bad men, ironically enough. Whenever they came i hid in my room cuz i was terrified of them. I remember one time i went out to get a cup of water and ducked just in time. A TV flew right where my head had been like seconds before.

I was always afraid, on guard, ready to fight for my life. My thought were generally pictures, rather than words at the time. Much like an animal. Just like my instincts. I never talked either. I hated people, come to think of it i still don't like people. A few times i heard guns being shot in the house. I don't know if they were the cops or otherwise.

Often when my mother went to her room with a man she tell me to go through his jacket pockets if he left it in the kitchen or living room or anywhere else not where she and him were. So i did. I would steal the money that he didn't pay her and anything else that looked worth something so she could sell it. Rent was always behind. I remember her yelling at her boyfriend that they had no money and how would they pay for it. Sooner or later i got bored of being stuck in my room all the time so during the parties i would venture out, see the people. That's when people became aware i was there. A vulnerable, young, innocent girl. I sat on peoples laps while they snorted a line of coke or something (at the time i thought that 'their noses made the sugar disappear') watched people heat up their spoon for heroin, weed was a common smell, cigarette butts were everywhere, as well as broken glass and beer cans and whatnot. Sometimes men watched me. When i got bored i would go back to my room. Eventually people would start passing out including my mother. And some man would come into my room. Music was still loud, if there was anyone awake to hear me scream. Any man could have any way with me. At first i screamed bloody murder i remember kicking and biting and pulling wat hair was left on their greasy head, i quickly learned not to make a sound. If i so much as quietly gasped i would get hit or whatnot i remember choking because guys would stick their c***s down my throat. It felt horrible. Have you ever tried swallowing a rough, hairy banana whole. Like that but a lot less pleasant. They would a** rape me. It hurt like hell. I remember not being able to sit down and being afraid to "do number two". I remember trying to tell my mother but she didn't believe me. I was just a little girl after all. Men would touch my 'girl parts' that my mother told me were mine and were precious. If i resisted, sometimes i knife would get put my throat, or i got hit, or sometimes the sick bas****ds what get pleasure from my struggling and allow me to continue. I remember them making the oddest sounds, almost as if THEY were the ones in pain. One time i actually got stabbed. I still have the scar. I never went to the hospital or anything. No one cared enough to take me. I never went to school. I remember going to parent teacher interviews one time in grade 2 and all the charts were full of stars for the other kids but i only had 2 stars and they were for bringing a lunch. Up until i was about 9 i thought it was right. I thought what had happened to me was normal. Somehow i understood tho that it was something people didn't talk about. No one ever told me not to.

Once i discovered what had happened was wrong, i was ashamed and scared. I thought i was a freak. I tried to drink myself into oblivion. This went on until i was about 8 or 9. I'm not sure exactly. By than i knew what alcohol could do to me and so i drank. A lot. No one knew what was wrong with me. I learned to hide my pain.

In grade 7 i tried coke for the first time. I was alone. I didn't know what to do, and i had just switched schools. I smoked dope since i was like in grade 4 or 5. I quit coke by the end of grade 8 but I'm still addicted to cigarettes and weed, and i get extremely flippin strong carvings for alcohol. I still crave coke occasionally.

In grade 8 i started to hurt myself. In anyway i could. I cut myself, i burned my self i did anything just to make sure i was real and still able to feel something. Now, i cut and burnt my arms soo much last year my friends was p***ed off at me so she stabbed my arm with a pencil and i barely felt it. Out of everything that happened to me tho, the feeling of being neglected, that no one cared, the things people called me has had the most effect on me. Even now, when i know its not true i look at myself as a whore, i only see a slut. Shameful, embarrassing, ugly. I still hurt myself. I have an alcoholic father, and the step mom from hell.

Continued in Part 2 below.

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Child Abuse Story From Aaron

by Aaron
(Location Undisclosed)

I am still surviving Child Abuse, but I do it to protect my sister Haley. My dad is the abuser, and he hits me, and if he ever touches Haley I fight him big time! He came home one night completely drunk and Haley was sleeping. He came inside screaming and throwing things everywhere. I told him to leave Haley out of it that she was dreaming happy thoughts that he would ruin, I probably shoudn't have because the abuse changed that night, now he makes Haley watch. Imagine being 5 and having to watch the person you look up to being thrown around like a raggedy anne doll, i know its hard for me but it's harder for her, she begs my dad to stop, but no he doesn't.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

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Child Abuse Story From Sara3

by Sara
(Atlanta, Georgia, USA)

There are often times where I think, and feel like I'm missing a part of me. I used to wish that I could figure out what made me who I am today. When I was younger I would do strange things, things I'm ashamed to mention... Around a very young age I would rub myself against things for pleasure, play with dogs, imagine myself killing people, play games with my stuffed animals, not as a hero but a villain, or engage in things with a step-sister or step-brother.

I don't remember much from my childhood. When I think about it, I know only scattered bits and pieces. Mainly of things going wrong. I loved my father but he doesn't and didn't deserve that title. As for my mother, she was having it hard trying to raise three kids, and deal with everything my father put us through.

Some of the things I do know about my past make me think, "Why couldn't I have forgotten this part too." I've been told things someone as young as I was shouldn't have been told. I've known my mother was suicidal. She didn't hide it at times. Once she had told me she wished she would get into a car wreck while going to work so her life would just end. I didn't know if she'd come back that day from work. I worried endlessly.

She has said she never goes through with it because she has us. Once she almost succeeded. I love her, very much...I hate blaming her when I think back on different situations. I don't want her to hurt anymore. We were the only ones she had to talk to, but some things she spoke of weren't something I as a child wanted to ever hear about. I feel like I should be able to understand what it's like to have no one considering my present life. I should be proud, no, I AM proud of how amazing and strong she is.

Nowadays, I can't remember what I was like in school, things I've said, people I've met. I've been told I do a good job of blocking things out.

Can you imagine people around you...showing them things you've given to them, telling you times you've spent with them. But you can't seem to grasp any of it? I remember a few things about my school life. I remember a dear friend, my 'sanctuary' in high school at the time. I don't remember having to fake my emotions around her much. Then I remember how sad, how horrified and unattached to the world and people around me I was. How I'd sit in the drama room, behind the curtains, out of the way, away from everyone. I remember staring off into space, thinking about death, running away, drugs, sex. All of these things I mainly wanted to use as a release. I see that now. I wanted something to change about me. I don't remember a time where I didn't resent myself. Change was something I held very close, whether it be something as small as my hair, clothing, or the people around me.

Around that time, I started having thoughts that I was sexually abused at some point. I was afraid of all men. Every guy I dated, tried to be normal with, I would leave once they tried to go farther than a hug, or to a make-out. As if once they tried, I lost all the interest I had in them. The thought of them even TRYING disgusted me. Men scared me to no end. I was paranoid every time one walked past me. Yet somewhere in my head I craved this fear. I never understood what made me so afraid...slowly I connected things, the things from my past, and the moments from the present that made me who I was.

Every time I think too hard about remembering what happened to me, my head begins to pound. I begin to tear up. My heart aches, and somewhere in my mind I tell myself to stop. I beg myself to stop. I feel so desperate to know what happened. Though I've been thinking...lately. That maybe I don't want to know after all...if the feeling gets so strong, and feels so wrong when I try...if I blocked it out...it must have been too much. Could I handle it if I knew? I don't know anymore. Am I strong, or do I just play pretend all too well? The questions I have are endless.

As time went on I remembered parts. This would be within the last year.

At times, when I think too much about it, I've seen myself crying, my throat burning, tears streaming down my face, shaking, the aches in my chest. My shoulders being grabbed from behind...the hands that grab me didn't feel rough but they made my skin cold. I go emotionless. After that I'm blank, and my expression is about the only thing I can see, and it's gone. It's disappeared.

I've always been so weak, so quick to give up. I realized that must have been a time where a part of me had died. I feel so empty at times. Emotions I have I feel like I have to force out or plan ahead of time always make me so sick and disgusted. I can barely handle Christmas and my birthday. When they give me a gift I just don't know how to react. I'm happy, but I can't seem to show it unless I plan ahead my every word and smile. I often grow tired of being around other people. Smiling actually begins to hurt.

I want to remember. I want to get back that part of me left behind the wall, scared, helpless and alone...and I want to hold it close and make myself whole again. I feel like until I do....I'll always feel this empty, this alone and unattached; what if I can't handle it? What if remembering makes it worse? What if I lose what sanity I DO have? Or worse, what if the me behind the wall takes the me of today with it, and I lose myself even more? When I think about that...I tell myself I forgot because I couldn't handle it. Maybe it's best to keep it that way; that sounds like I'm just running away again.

I'm eighteen years old, and I don't know who I am at times. I feel like I'm getting worse. Already I'm at a point where human physical contact, whether hugging or shaking hands, can scare me away. So whether knowing kills me inside...or fixes me, knowing will change who I am...that alone should make me fight within myself for an answer. So why do I still beg myself to stop? I'm very confused with all of this. I don't know what to do with myself anymore.

I did recently start a journal. It's helping me take things slow when I have memory flashes, and its helping me cope with my recent nightmares.

My past controls me in every aspect of my very being. It's killing me. I need help, but I can't bring myself to talk to my mother about any of this.

I apologize. I've never asked help before on this problem and this letter is probably jumbled...I wanted to get so much more out, to talk about everything...but I can't type anymore, I'm exhausted....

Thank you for your time.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Eleanor

by Eleanor
(USA)

I am so glad that I've made it. My mother worked days when I was young, and still does. My father had a day job. He was lagging in work so he was fired. Instead of accepting that he wasn't working hard enough, he went to alcohol to solace himself.

I was three when it began. My dad would get mad for no reason and he'd hurt me. I didn't know what was wrong and I thought that I must've done something bad. No one saw symptoms at all until I was 7. My older sister heard my dad having a tantrum and she apparently told my mom she saw Dad 'grab my arm and slap my face.' My mom saw marks soon and knew what it was. She told him that if he didn't stop his drinking, she'd divorce him. He couldn't give it up.

I am so fortunate for my loving mother and now, my equally as loving step-father. I am especially grateful for my sis though, if she hadn't seen it, who knows, I might not be 16 now.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Tawnya

by Tawnya
(Oklahoma, USA)

It was horrible frightening. I was 3 and a half when everything started. I was beaten and battered over and over! I ate dog food! It was like a nightmare to me. As I watched my mom do drugs with people I did not know. I watched my brothers and sisters opening their gifts and blowing out their candles on Christmas and on birthdays. I slept outside with the dogs and cats in my underwear freezing and hoping something and someone would save me from that horrible place I was in! Day in and day out I suffered. My butt was always bleeding. I could never sit down. I hurted so bad!!!! I prayed to god hoping he would do something for me, like a miracle.

My dad never helped me. He would sit there and watch my mom hurt me again and again! I hated when she pulled my hair and dragged me across the house. Why my brothers and sisters watched her and helped her I do not know. My life was a dreadful one to me.

I am 15 years old. I am a freshman living on, and not thinking about the past! My mom is in prison for all the horrible things she did to me. I am a cheerleader and I pray for the kids in this world that are getting abused that you speak up before you life is over! I did and I am glad I did too! Please help the children out there if you know that they are getting abused. Please help them by saying something to a grownup. Nobody, no kid wants to experience that, especially go through it. It is tough! God bless you all.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Kelly1

by Kelly
(Canada)

I'm not exactly a child anymore and my sister certainly isn't. I guess I'll start with what's going on in my life at the moment - child services has called my sister down to a doctors office to be examined two times now for bruises. They've talked to me and to her.

My father never hits me. But he does hit her sometimes. I've lied to the social worker and though I truely do want to tell her the truth I never can find the right words. My sister says it doesn't matter and that's its really not a big deal. She even has fun making up stories for the bruises.

She says she's leaveing for college in a year and that i'm leaving in 2 years. She says it's just not worth it.
But to me the bruises look like they hurt really bad. She's not allowed to drive and shes 17 while me and our step sister are younger and are allowed to drive. He likes her to stay home and gets angry when she asks to go places. I don't know if I have a right to tell about her abuse.

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Child Abuse Story From Casey1

by Casey
(Australia)

When I was four my father used to play sports. It was a whole family event. I was showing off my handstands when a neighbour who played on my dad's team asked me to come to the changeroom with him as there was too much glass around and to not 'cut my hands'. He promised that after I showed him my handstand he would do a back flip for me. He locked the door and placed me up on the sink and proceeded to digitally rape me. A knock came on the door and the offender freaked out, unlocked the door and started doing his promised back flips, but my parents were already alerted. I remember my parents, especially my father, get really angry and tried to kill the offender by placing his head in a hot BBQ. Naturally I was terrified and did not want to talk anymore on the issue.

Later in life, I found out an uncle may have sexually assaulted me in younger years than this first instance, but there was no proof to my allegations and I don't remember it at all.

When I turned 9, my nana remarried. Unbeknown to her, he was a registered and repeating pedophile. I always blamed myself because I was the one who initiated it. Young and naïve, I asked him to tell us an adult joke when we were all alone, and then that is how it all started.

My parents were both working so my nana and her husband babysat me and my 7-year-old cousin Candy, and my younger cousin Ken and brother Bob. Candy and I coped 2 years of sexual assault from him. He always maintained that we wanted it and seduced him. He often masturbated and did foul acts to us, making us do things against our will and telling and showing us bad things. I was older and knew better, and when I told him we would not do something, he would tell my parents I was naughty that day. I would cop it later on. I told my best friend everything about this, as I didn't trust my parents. She told my mum everything one day over breakfast. I locked myself in a bathroom, ashamed of myself and scared. Again the violence started and my dad went to pursue my nana's husband. He hid and called the police. My cousin's family and my nana didn't believe us. Candy lied and said nothing happened and the boys were just one and two. My cousins continued under his care after me. She only lived next door! It took about a year for the family to reject the husband and come round and believe me.

I did the whole court thing and that, but my relationship with my parents just got worse.

My mother, the youngest child, losing her parents before 18 is a lost, unstable, shallow, self-conceited woman who is especially violent when she isn't on her meds or is drunk. She can be sickly sweet, but with me she only communicates by screaming and lashing out and often plots arguments. I have always responded by ignoring her, not hitting back, not fighting.

She always provided for me, but we never hugged, kissed or played together. To this day I secretly harbour hatred towards her. She would beat me, pull my hair, slam my face into a wall, threaten me, humiliate me, tell me I was a little slut who wanted to get molested, and then apologise for it later. But I hated feeling her strange empty hugs.

My dad was and still is a drug addict. I feel for him. His mother was un-nurturing and often left him on his own at a young age, favouring his half brothers. My dad went from parent to parent and ended up living on the streets at 12, where it wasn't until he joined the army at 16 that he got his life on track again. I watched him cultivate, smoke, drink, fight violently with my mother, cheat and later in life saw him try to hang himself. He showed me more interest as a child than my mother but would flog me with a belt sometimes and buy toys just to put them up on a shelf and watch me cry for it for weeks. He thought this was funny. Frequently he would tell me I was an accident, a mistake, that he loves me as his child but he hates my guts.

When I was 4 or 5, I started regressing and soiled my pants. They would scream, "DO YOU WANT A WIPE A FACE" and rub my soiled undies in my face like a dog. Fifteen years later they still tell this story and laugh. As I got older my dad just started to pretend I didn't exist, and in drunken heated arguments, just punch the daylights out of me. Though he never did, sometimes I have horrible nightmares that he is raping me.

I still live at home now and I've gone through depression, suicidal thoughts and actions. I take drugs and drink alcohol till I black out and violently lash out at friends, police and family when I am in this state. Just recently I came home drunk on 2 bottles of vodka and my mum, brother and father forced me home and beat me until my eyes were black and hemorrhaged. I think I had a breakdown. I tried to get out of the house, injuring myself for hours and screamed out for god. They kept hitting me but I apparently deserve it. I'm 22.

I'll set some personal goals and get help one day. I just need someone to talk to. I'm ready for help, for the next step. Thanks so much for letting me get years of turmoil off my chest :)

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Ann

by Ann
(Location Undisclosed)

I was raised in an affluent suburb by two alcoholic parents. My sister, 10 years older, and my brother, 8 years older raised me for the first 8 years of my life until they went to college or thrown out of the house for "protecting" me.

My mother was jealous of me, I know this now. She would burn me with cigarettes, refuse to feed me when no one was around, verbally and physically abuse me. My father would physically, verbally and sexually abuse me.

My siblings protected me and loved me as much as possible. They didn't suffer the abuse that I did since my parents didn't start drinking until my mother found out she was pregnant with me. And, yes, she drank during the entire pregnancy according to family.

From the age of 8 until I was kicked out of the house at 16, I took care of myself. My brother and sister would call in "code" so that I could run upstairs to the other phone and answer it before my parents did. They wouldn't let me talk to them. Those 8 years alone with them was hell. The school pretended nothing was wrong. My teachers would see the burns and bruises and just get this sad look on their faces. The cops would bring me toys and candy when the neighbors couldn't handle the screaming anymore. No one did anything, though. It was a "nice" town and you kept to yourselves. Besides, things like that only happen to trailer trash.

I'm 44 now and still suffering from the long-term effects. I've finally "given in" and settled down with a man I truly love, but don't know how to. I've tried counseling in the past with disastrous results. A high school "therapist" called my parents after I begged him not to and my father convinced him I was a "lying whore". Later in life, I tried again, but was so annoyed by the "warm fuzziness" of the counselor so I just walked out. It's not something that can just be talked away. So...I deal with it on my own...poorly.

I was lucky to have my brother and sister around and was also lucky to have a few understanding teachers in school. Though they never said anything about the abuse, they would find things for me to do after school so I didn't have to go home until my brother got home. They would find things that interested me to occupy my time during the times when I was alone with my parents.

The one thing I want to say to everyone is, the pain doesn't ever really go away. But, you can overcome anything with faith in yourself. Be especially aware of the relationship you have with your children. While raising my son, yelling wasn't allowed in my house. If I became too upset with him, I would tell him to go for a walk or go to a friend's house (sending him to his room was a punishment, and I never punished him for having opinions). Be extremely conscious of the similarities in your behavior to your abusers. Guilt is a learning mechanism. If you think you've been too hard on your child, talk to them. Acknowledge that they may have done something improper, but that your reaction was also improper. Children are much more intelligent than we give them credit for and respond to honesty with trust.

My son is a 26 year old Marine now and an amazing, mature, responsible, fun-loving adult. He knows about my life and he and I worked through it for 26 years. There were hard times, but we survived. He taught me how to say, "I love you". Protect your children from your past, but don't hide it from them.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Larrisa

by Larrisa
(Ohio, USA)

When I was 7 I was forced to do things that I did not want to do, and then severely beaten if I did not do them. It caused me to become very low. I felt that each day I might have died or worse. My mother would humiliate me and say shameful things to me. I would cry and wanted to die. She would burn my legs and kick, punch, yell and curse at me. It got so bad I would cut myself and drink and do sexual acts I knew were risky. I ran away at 17 1/2 and I got free, but now I wonder: what will happen to me now? This is a factual story and I feel it helps those in need to learn and understand you're a victim...get help.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kimberly Part 3

by Kimberly
(Location Undisclosed)

There is huge favoritism in my household. My parents let my brother get whatever he wants because he's their perfect little boy. My parents have spent over $300 on him for stuff he didn't need and then told me they didn't have money for me to buy lunch THIS YEAR! They spend so little money on me and get my brother everything he desires. If there is something going on for my brother and for me at the same time, my parents fight over who gets to go to my brother's stuff, no matter how important my stuff is. I'm always the person that no one in my family wants to go with. I'm always the last person to be taken anywhere because according to them, I don't matter.

Now I'm just a person looking for love and support. Everyone is parents to me except my own. I learn lessons from friends rather than parents and it's not a good feeling. Because of the fact that I've never been good enough for my family, I'm very ashamed of myself and who I've become because it doesn't meet their standards. I also have no confidence. I look at myself as terrible because they look at me as terrible.

I'm frequently verbally attacked by my family. I'm told how worthless I am and how much I don't matter to people and don't matter to life. If I show any kind of feeling other than happy around my family, I'm called a wimp and a big baby. This is why I don't show emotion in public or tell how I'm feeling because I'm so afraid of being attacked and told how much of a big baby I am. It hurts me so terribly to know that I'm living a fake life. I've created my shell to cover my feelings that are going on and have saved them for when I'm alone and no one can see or judge me.

Because I've been judged so harshly by my family, I hate being judged (obviously). I am always afraid of saying something that will make people think that I'm a bad person.

Also, because I've never had anyone to depend on but myself and learned from my parents that I don't matter, I always feel like a burden to people because I don't want to put too much on you because even a little was too much for my parents. I hate being a burden, because every time I was to my parents, I got a lot of crap for it. It never ended and it never will.

I don't know if all of this classifies as abuse or not.

But to this day, I'm being emotionally abused. So many people have told me to get out but I can't. I still have another 3 years to survive in this house before I can be free. I live in constant fear that my parents will start the physical abuse again. I live in fear of most people. So far in my life, I have been lucky to be able to trust two adults. I have so many issues that people who first meet me have no clue about. Every day I live is a struggle. And up until this point, I really don't have anything to do about it. I've put so much stress on my friends because I don't know how I'm supposed to handle this or help myself through it all. I believe the lies my parents tell me. I know they are lies but I still believe them because of how much they've been crammed into my head. And now, I don't know what to do but survive and struggle through each and every day of my life.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Luka1

by Luka
(Location Undisclosed)

I don't know if you could consider this abuse, but it has wracked me for years, and makes me feel so dirty, so disgusting. I had gone to stay with my aunt in Arizona for a vacation. My cousin is two years older than me. We got along great.

One night we shared a bed, because we were only little kids. Well, he kept touching me and got me to touch him, and we were like mutually touching each other. He even got me to kiss and lick his "privates".

Then when I was ten or eleven, he made me show him my underwear, and pull up my shirt. It's hard for me to be around him. I mean, I have forgiven him, because I mean, what choice do I have? We were only kids. At the same time, I don't like to be alone with him. He provokes me into fights with him. Then one time I was messing around, and he slapped me across the face and shoved me to the floor. I was 13 at the time. I don't know if I'm just being stupid for feeling awkward. We see each other at family events, and have to be around each other. Neither of us mention it. But I can't forget. I feel so disgusting every time I think about it.

On another note, my brother and my sister and I were all abused by a babysitter. We were all around 3 and 4, and my dad had to work so he left us at the babysitter. I am a picky eater, and when I didn't want to eat what she made, she locked me in a dark bathroom with her pet snake. When my sister got sick and threw up, she beat my sister with a spatula. She constantly spanked my brother. I hate her for hurting us.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Katrina Part 3

by Katrina
(Canada)

this is an update from 2 years ago, about me being molested by my father, well recently i found out that it wasnt just my dad who molested me, his father did it too, when i found out the second part i didnt know what to say , or do but i have since then been going to see a therapist to help me out

i would just like to say thank you, for giving me great advice, i am know living a great life i have just been giving a manager to become a singer i am loving my life know, once again THANK YOU! :)

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Note from Darlene: If I have not left a comment on your story, please understand that it is not personal; it's just that my hectic schedule no longer permits me to do so.

I hope you'll follow me on:


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Child Abuse Story From Ohio Jessica

by Jessica
(Ohio, USA)

I grew up in a small town, but in my house as a child it was like living in hell. You didn't know when to laugh, smile, or cry. You were never sure when you needed to go hide. As a young child I can remember my father beating me and my sister and our mother so badly. I had got the last beating. My face was smashed in to a windshield of a car over and over again. I was kicked in the leg till my hip had popped out of place. I was beat with a stiff chicken net across my face, to where you could play checkers on face. I had crawled to the house about 200 ft away from our barn. I finally got inside and made the frantic phone call to my grandfather's who lived just 5 miles away. I told him to hurry, Daddy was gonna kill me. I seen my father come up the stairs and I hung up the phone. At least I thought I did, until he walked by and the off the hook sound began to go off. My father turned around and then picked me up over his head and slammed me into the living room floor, where my grandfather had found me laying there so helpless. He held the gun to his son's face and asked him what the hell was wrong with him. My grandfather was crying as he looked into my dad's eyes and said look at her, she is 7 years old just 7. No one deserves this. My grandfather came to my rescue and rushed me to the hospital.

When my mother returned home she had no clue what happened. She asked my dad where I was and he said, "The hospital. I think I killed her." My mom called the cops and had us removed from the house. They finally got a divorce. The thing I don't understand is my father never touched any of us again. The courts granted him supervised visitation, than to where he could have us every other weekend. My father became the most caring and loving father anyone could have? What I still don't understand is why did it have to come to that. And I can't ask him because 7 years later on May 5th 2004 my father was killed at work. He fell over 90 ft, straight to his death. I never had the chance to say good-bye.

Now I live with this awkward feeling inside my heart. I do love him, but I hate what he did to me and my family, and I often wonder what our life would be like today if he was here. It's a hard thing to live with, and I'm still grieving after 5 years, just because I'm so scared to let go.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Jason Part 2

by Jason
(Forest Park, Illinois, USA)

Before my mother met this man my life wasn't good. I can say that when the abuse started it replaced the other parts of my life that were bad, but it must have gotten severely worse because it seemed to go on forever. That's the part of my life I remember. It started so fast it's all I can remember.

Before, my grandmother was always verbally abusive and physically abusive. She manipulated me and lied about me to other people. I also have memories of a time when I was about 5 years old of being beaten by a stranger in our apartment that only my mother my sister and I lived in.

I went to school hungry and no one ever made sure that I had something to eat.

I have to say that reading the stories here have helped me remember a lot of my life and helped me explain it.
The man that abused me and my sister became my stepfather. People will have a hard time believing this, but it happened. There are two times I remember him making me go to school late. He said to me that he wanted to beat me. He said he wanted to beat me for no reason at all. He went to the hardware store and bought a piece of wood specifically to beat me. I'm sorry that this has happened to other people. This just keeps coming back, and all I do is feel worse when I hear about these things happening to other people.

Every time I think I have some control over my life, just more and more bullshit keeps coming back to me. I don't know if I forget what happened to me or if I deny what happened to me, but it just tears me apart when I remember these things. My biggest fear is that I don't know how to live because all I can remember are all the things that hurt me.

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Child Abuse Story From K2 Part 4

by K
(Location Undisclosed)

I wonder if it's normal for someone who was abused as a child to try to reconnect with family, even if they know it isn't safe. I am almost 20 years old now, but I started to try to reconnect with my family after I turned 18, only to find out that one, my mother hadn't changed a bit, and two, my father had only gotten worse. I feel stupid for trying to reconnect, even though I knew it wasn't safe. But I felt trapped by my family, despite not even living with them, and what makes it even harder was that I am considered an adult now, and I was not living with them, but I still felt trapped by them.

I, as an adult, should have known what to do to protect myself, but even my own family, my father's side, told me that I should stop acting like a child and grow up. This was a conversation that happened before I even chose to see my father again. They wanted me to see my father, who had hurt me as a child. He molested me when I was a child, but he went to jail for it. Only from 1998-2001. He admitted to part of what he did, but he never admitted to the full extent of what he did. He admitted to hurting me and my cousin one time. But he hurt more than just me and my cousin and he hurt us more than one time.

He was supposed to be in jail until my cousin and I were 18 years old, but he got out when I was still only 11 years old. He wasn't allowed to see us, or talk to us or anything, or even to be around children younger than 16 years of age especially while he was on probation, but even though he broke the stipulations of his probation, they never could prove it, and they never could do anything about it.

Well, as hard as this is to say, I was stupid enough to see them again. Even though I was told to stop acting like a child, grow up, forgive and forget, pretend like nothing ever had happened, and stick by his side no matter what, I still had the choice to go or not. I went, over vacation, and he hurt me again. Only this time it went further. He raped me with an object and he also digitally raped me, comments were made, and this sort of stuff happened 3 times in one week. The week before going back to college.

I feel like it has to be my fault that it happened, because I knew what he was capable of, but I felt trapped by my family, regardless of whether I lived with them or not. I mean, the conversation that I was told to stop acting like a child I was also told if I didn't have a relationship with my father then I wouldn't have any family. I was told that if I didn't stop acting like a child and get over myself then I would lose my father's family, not just my father. And I only went to see him because of this conversation, and because I thought that maybe my family was right. He had served his time, and he had gone to counseling and everything, so maybe nothing would happen. The conversation was sometime in the fall of 2008, I think. But it still stuck in my mind weighing heavily on my decisions with my family. I wanted a family, and I thought that maybe I could rebuild a family, but when I was with family, I felt like I was losing part of myself, and when I was thinking about what it would be like without a family, I felt like I would lose part of myself that way too. But after the thing that happened about a month ago, I was forced to try to look again. How much was I really losing either way? I only chose that I didn't care if I lost my family anymore, because I have to think about others...what if he is hurting others? I don't matter, really, but they do. So what am I really losing by sticking by his side? I am losing my power and ability to help others. I know all of this is a bit jumbled up, but I wrote it as it came to me in my head. My head is scrambled up a lot right now, so that is why this is all scrambled up. I also keep thinking about what will happen, when I tell, all of the turmoil I will be creating not only for me but for the rest of the family, and what if nothing can be done, because I didn't go to the hospital? And so much more things that are running through my brain, and I feel selfish for feeling this way. Because stuff like this has never affected me like this. I feel dirty and ashamed and I can't get any of it out of my head.

I know that this site is about child abuse, but in a way this sort of is about that. Because it isn't about what he's done to me any more-it's about all of the people and all of the ways I have been hurt as a child and as a new adult, a young adult. It is about me feeling like a child, and not feeling safe anywhere or with anyone anymore. It is about so much more, even what I haven't put into words yet. And I feel so stupid, and dirty and ashamed and all of the other things that I can't even put into words right now.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Shannon5 Part 2

by Shannon
(Ontario, Canada)

Broke the cycle of violence: :
Over the weekend, my boyfriend and I were out for dinner, and I told him a few stories of my life. I sat there after and thought to myself... Holy Cow, I did break the cycle because my girls have NEVER ever felt fear of me... thank god!

My mother and I use that word loosely, while giving me a bath would hold me under the water and scream at me I hope you drown. She'd have her hands wrapped around my neck choking me and holding me under the water, and just before I'd pass out she'd lift me up... I remember screaming for her to stop... please.... under that water I'd go again...

Another time, her and I were sitting across from each other at the dinner table... she had made sausage (now I know why I was such a nut when it came to cutting my kids foods into tiny pieces)... anyhow I remember putting a piece in my mouth and I started choking on it... the piece was too large and it got lodge in my throat. I was gasping for air, clawing at my neck trying to motion that I couldn't breathe... she sat across from me, no expression, no nothing, just looking at me, saying "I hope you choke, I hope you die." Very VERY calmly she said this over and over. I reached for the milk and tried to swallow over and over... somehow... someway... it finally went down.. My throat felt stretched.... as she just sat there and snickered at me....

Another time, I would have been.. maybe 4ish... and well... if she found a dirty pair of underwear in the laundry, dirty meaning, little kids don't know how to wipe their bums all that great. Well, if she found them, she'd make me kneel on top of the stairs with my underwear on my head, and would put the crotch part right at my nose, and would scream, you're going to wear these until you learn how to clean your A$$... I quickly learned to hide my dirty panties under an old car that was in the yard that had been there for years and years....

I use to run away all the time... I mean... weekly... I was about 5ish... I went to one house a fair bit away from where I lived and knocked on their door and a lady answered and I asked her if she'd like to buy a little girl, that she could have me for 10 bucks... this lady of course asked me if I wanted cookies... and then called the police... they came... my father had to come and get me, and the officer told him if she does this again she'll be taken away... at that point they had a little file of me already... I'd ran away A LOT... and not one person thought... there just may be a reason as to why this child keeps running... there are so many more stories... these are just a couple that are vivid in my mind....

Thank goodness I am the mother to my two girls that I wish I would have had....

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kathy

by Katherine
(Los Angeles, California, USA)

My mother always lived the "happy life"...meaning she left my sister and I alone most of the time. We were lucky if she took us two blocks away to my aunt's house. She always had different boyfriends...some who we liked and some who we hated.

When my mom couldn't handle being a "mother" she would send us away as far as possible...that's when my story takes place...living with a family member...an aunt, her husband, and their daughter who was 8...my mom was living in Los Angeles at the time.

It was two in the morning. My sister was in a room. I had fallen asleep on the living room couch, when I woke up to my "uncle" touching me in an inappropriate way. When I tried getting away from him to go to my sister he grabbed me with so much strength...I was only 6 so I couldn't fight him...when I tried screaming for my aunt or for help he slapped me and told me that if I screamed it would only make him mad and it would only make it worse. He raped me 3 times that night.

The next morning I told my sister what had happened...she hugged me so hard...she told me she was sorry for letting me fall asleep in the couch...she said she would tell Mom what had happened.

The same week when mom came to visit us, my sister told my mom...Mom asked, and I said it was all true...but she had asked him first...he denied it...my mom didn't do anything...she got along perfectly with the guy who raped her 6-year-old daughter.

The second time, I got molested by a cousin of mine when I was asleep...and while my mom was outside in her boyfriend's car having sex.

Luckily, I am a strong 20-year-old lady who didn't allow those events to affect her life and her happiness!!! I may have nightmares about them still, but I wake up the next morning with a smile on my face.

Writing this story helps me feel better.
I feel the more I talk about it the more it fades from my memory!!!!

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Anonymous35

by Anonymous
(Location Undisclosed)

Pretty much, I was abused physically and emotionally as a child. Both my parents did it (but mostly my dad) because they thought it was a good way to punish us for things we supposedly had done wrong. This has impacted me psychologically. I have 4 siblings and they have gone through the same type of abuse, but not as much as me and my older sister except baby Ray. There has been lots of incidents that have happened in this family that I will probably NEVER EVER FORGET.

Now I'm just a person looking for love and support. Every adult I know are like parents to me, except my own. I learn lessons from friends rather than parents. Because of the fact that I've never been good enough for my family, I'm very ashamed of myself and who I've become because it doesn't meet their standards. I also have no confidence.

But to this day, I'm being emotionally abused. So many people have told me to get out, but I can't. I still have another 3 years to survive in this house before I can be free. I live in constant fear that my parents will start the physical abuse again. I live in fear of most people.

So far in my life, I have been lucky to be able to trust one adult and that is Ms W. I have so many issues that people who first meet me have no clue about. Every day I live is a struggle. And up until this point, I really can't do anything about it. I've put so much stress on my friends because I don't know how I'm supposed to handle this or help myself through it all. I believe the lies my parents tell me. I know they are lies but I still believe them because of how much they've been crammed into my head. And now, I don't know what to do but survive and struggle through each and every day of my life.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kara

by Kara
(Grand Junction, Colorado, USA)

What Made Me Who I Am: 
Most of the people who know me see a happy 19-year-old girl. They don't know what I've been through. Or even think "she's been abused." Well I have both abused and neglected. My mom was the one who was the abuser. She didn't care that I was only a child.

My grandparents wrote down most of what happened to me and only told me enough to write this. They wrote down every time I came over with some new burn or bruise. Mostly it was burns from an iron. My mom would say I grabbed it or something, but most of the burns would be on my back. I remember one time she made me mac and cheese, but when I wouldn't eat it she turned the bowl over on my head, then tossed me in the shower and turned the water on as hot as it would go. She wouldn't let me out til it was ice cold.

Another time she broke a plate 'cause I wouldn't eat plain hamburger meet for dinner.

Most of my memories of both my mom and dad involved them fighting, both getting physical. My dad only ever hit me once but I won't go into that.

My life was ok after our family moved to Grand Junction, Colorado. My parents still fought but they left me and my sister alone. After they spilt and my dad took us with him to Denver is when the neglect started. He and my step-mom were having problems and he became depressed. This is in no way a good reason for him to neglect my sister and I, but he did.

There was never any food in our house. I had to wear the same clothes for weeks before they could be washed. And in the winter we didn't have heat cause he never paid the bills.

When he went to jail for abusing my step-mom I called it quits with him. That summer I moved in with my aunt and uncle in Grand Junction. I wouldn't go back, and without me there my sister is very well taken care of. Now that I live with my aunt and uncle I have graduated high school with a 3.1 GPA. But the biggest change is I have become a Christian. God has a plan for my life. I won't be my mom or my dad. I won't repeat the cycle. After 4 years, I can tell my dad I love him and I forgive him, the same with my mom.

Many of you reading might not understand this but the way I look at it this was that it was the worst part of my life and I don't want it to rule me. And the only way to stop it from doing that is to forgive and let it go, but no one should ever forget. I know I won't. Only by remembering can I help others. So if you've been abused don't hide it, share it and let others know they are not alone. I can't say it was easy the first time I told this story, and it still isn't, but it must be done.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Jo2

by Jo
(Illinois, USA)

For a long time, I just thought my parents were strict. I also thought that there was something wrong with me that I couldn't understand since I was so unworthy of love. It was easy for me to believe since my parents acted as though they were right about everything. They also were very well respected in our upper middle class neighborhood. Everyone thinks/says that I came from a good family - but that's not the truth.

My brother and sister were pretty well treated and loved, but nothing I did was right or good enough. I'm pretty sure I was abused even as a little kid because my dad still teases me about running away when I was a toddler. My mom brutally rejected gifts I gave to her when I was a kid - I'll never forget how she screamed at me for giving her something that she was allergic to. I didn't know! But she said I had done it on purpose to make her sick. It was the first time I had bought something with my own money. She told me to take it back and buy her something that wouldn't make her sick. I didn't. I just threw it away.

As I got older, the abuse got worse. I was belittled a lot, contradicted and controlled all the time and made to feel stupid and ugly by both of my parents. They often accused me of thinking or doing things I'd never dream of. It was so painful because I always tried hard to be a good kid. I never got into trouble, not even a detention at school! The only bad thing I did (which was horrible) was attack my sister for a long time. I was as ruthless to her as my parents were to me. But one day (I think I was in Jr. High), I walked past her and she was just looking at a book and I got so mad, I wanted to claw her to shreds. It was then that I realized how unreasonable my anger was. Under the positive influence of my grandmother and a couple of good middle grade novels, I stopped. I have never been abusive since.

But the abuse kept coming from my parents.

One time, I was telling my brother and sister something I had learned in school and my dad didn't believe me. "Don't listen to her, she doesn't know what she's talking about!" he told them. It's always that way. Even if I say something now (I'm almost 40) that he can't remember or disagrees with, he'll flat out tell me I'm wrong. I laugh now and can dismiss it because I don't respect him anymore. I wish I could get to the same place with my mother, especially as she's much more cruel. With her, she can be loving and nurturing, but you never know when she'll stab you in the back or the heart.

When I was in college, things got really, really bad. My mother picked fights with me all the time. I remember writing in my journal that I didn't like who I was when I was at home. How could I? There, I was told I was a burden and that because of me, the family couldn't eat the expensive foods they wanted. My mom often screamed things like, "You only think about yourself, what do you do for other people?" She always pushed me to be who I wasn't - trying to make me more social and yet telling me that no one wanted to hear what I had to say. I kept trying to be someone they'd want, but I could never do it. I couldn't be pretty and I couldn't be smart and I couldn't make friends - I was a social outcast at school too.

When I earned the first good grades I ever got (all A's and one B) I called home from college with the good news. Considering all the times she'd posted my bad grades on the fridge so that everyone could see how stupid I was, I thought she'd be elated. Nope. "But you have no social life," she said and hung up. I dreamt about suicide a lot during those four years. Especially after I came home for the holidays and my brother told me quite frankly that no one was glad that I was home. I was devastated. I don't blame him very much. I know that my dad probably ranted and raved at the dinner table, wondering if my college would keep me. And my mom, I think complained about me too. From all of this, I got very ill that year with bad GI (gastrointestinal) stuff - and I'm pretty sure that stress was the root cause of it. I was convinced that I was a horrible person, and it scared me that I couldn't figure out why.

I think it's a miracle that I survived it all - and graduated from college. I don't think that deep down, that's what my mother wanted. I don't think she realises it, but I think she wanted me to fail. I'm also so proud that I stopped the cycle.

I blame my parents more and more as my children grow older - because I can't imagine saying and doing the things that they did! I can't imagine not celebrating a child's accomplishments! I know now that when my mom says she loves me (and she does almost every day on the phone), she does mean it, but her love is very warped and unhealthy. That has helped me somewhat, but I still battle anxiety and depression and low self esteem. For years, I felt guilty when anyone loved me - and waited for them to find out that I was unlovable. After a decade of marriage, I still ask my husband (who is wonderful!) to reassure me that there are reasons to love me. I have a hard time making decisions and often look to him for help. He's very patient - even when he goes to events on my side of the family - especially as my parents didn't want me to marry him. They were pretty ugly about that too. What a surprise!

Thank you Darlene for this very helpful website!!

Jo

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Jess D Part 4

by Jessica D
(Jessica D)

Ive confronted my enemy! The monster that did this to me. I finally had the guts after 28 yrs to say something. It was not easy, I acutully prepared myself to say what I had to say, do what I had to do!!! I went to his house wit my mom setting up the (APPOINTMENT)!he said he did not remember, he never denied he was too drunk, or too f***** up ) to remember! I said detailed, I said spcific s**t about the things that happened and he sat theresaying"if I was too drunk sorry I don't remember"I felt like s**t. I felt like y lie? Y say things things? He ended up in the hospital that nite n again in the hospital 3 times witin 2 wks! He was neva in the hospital eva before. So y now? Well to my conclusion he felt scared! He felt terrified!he did notknow what to do becuz I confrontd him! He knew wat heppened so many yrs ago and knew that now that he is (54yrs old 12/10) wat can I say!

I told him detailed about all the things that he did too me, the things I still think about, the things I will never forget....yet he still sat there and said he does not remember!! I said things over and over and he just kept saying the same!

I mentioned a case of a women of 2004 and he said he does not remember anything! But of course. He was accused of rape just 5 yrs ago and still not locked up??? So what the hell is wrong with this f***ing system? You got away once!!!!You got away twice!!!!!! And yet again 3 times on 2004??? Y? What the f*** makes you so luckly? I am so grown now but yet pissed off that he got away more than once. I have written to many people of the state and I get a call back and now they are working on the case but what if its too late? What if my guts came out too late? What can I do next?

I feel so alone he did so many bad f***ed up things in my life that I can never forgive him! My sister the best friend I spoke about in the past will never be the same. I lost someone who I thought was there for life,...someone who I could go to if I needed something. But because of who he is and she is his daughter she will never look at me in the same picture!!!I feel like a piece of s**t! I fell like he made me a women before I was even thinking of it or even before I was even ready! My first real woman expirence was with him! As f***ed up that that was no was knows what I went through! I life was always suxed and my lifewill never be the same because he tooked my soul! I was never trust a man in my my because he tooked that from me and and no one will ever get that back! (sorry for those of u who r inocent)!

I just want him to pay for what he did. He ruined my life! I really with all my heart want justice! Its not easy to sit here and pour your heart out, its something that I have tried before and was unable to do something that many people will never do! I ask that if you have a story (talk) say something to someone you trust or say something to this site!!!

This site has acually saved mylife in alot of different ways... I still think of suicide.... Its not a easy way out but I say more now than I have ever said before in my whole life!

Thank you again for reading my story... Contact me.. Leave me a comment to know what you are thinking!!

I really need help before I do something stupid... Help me write to me I need a friend! I feel alone! F my guts came out too late?

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

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Child Abuse Story From Carter Part 2

by Carter
(Boston, Massachusetts, USA)

My dad's sexual abuse and physical abuse had taken a toll on my emotional state and physical state. I would sometimes go days without eating or sleeping. I would have terrible stomach aches and headaches. I would do marijuana with my friends even though I didn't enjoy it. I only did it to dull out my reality. Alcohol was another big problem that I had. When a person drinks, he can forget what is real, if only for a little while. I could forget about what would happen when the day turned to night. I could forget the feel of his fist whenever he got mad.

I had never considered when my dad called me stupid, dumb, or "retard" as abuse. He would call me other names I dare not repeat. He called me retard, one of his favorite words, because I stuttered, and it got a lot worse whenever I was around him. At school, I could talk pretty well without anyone noticing a little slip here and there, but around my dad every word was screwed up. And he used this to make me feel bad. Everything he said about me, I believed. I really felt stupid. No matter how good my grades were or the fact that I was valedictorian of my class ever raised my self esteem. I was very good at hiding this however. I had a lot of friends and none of them ever noticed anything was wrong with me or tried to get that close to me. That is until college. I met Roxanne, who I mentioned in my earlier post. I sometimes refer to her as my "earthly angel." She saw through every barrier I had built and forced her way into my life, though not in a bad way. She said she didn't like to see people suffer and saw that I was suffering and needed help. she didn't sugar coat it. She just said it plainly. It was something I needed to hear. Before her I think I would have considered myself an atheist. I didn't necessarily believe in God or any higher power. I never had anyone to teach me because my parents were in no way religious. God was just this spiritual "being" people had made up for comfort. At least that was what I thought. Roxanne taught me that Christianity was not about some higher being sitting in the clouds being a dictator over people. He loved everyone and everything. I asked her once why if God loved us so much, did we have to suffer? She looked me straight in the eyes and said, "If we don't suffer, how can we appreciate the good times that come?" I had never thought about it that way and of course it makes perfect sense. That was before I had actually converted over to Christianity. The coolest thing about Roxanne was that she didn't try to force her religion on me. She would bring it up or answer any questions I had but she never forced it upon me. She says that that is what Jesus wanted his people to do. To teach his word and spread the good news. But he also says you can't convert someone who doesn't want to be converted. That's his job. God dealt with me. I was still a little stubborn on the idea that the "guy upstairs" cared anything about me. I was "damaged goods," as my father said. I was too messed up, and had done too many horrible things. How could he love me? I saw the peace and joy Roxanne had but I didn't know how to obtain it. I knew I wanted it badly but I couldn't surrender my heart to something I didn't know.

Then I had a dream that changed my life. I was standing in the middle of nowhere but there was a screen with my life on it. I saw all of the bad things that had happened to me and all of the bad things I had done. I was ashamed looking back on it. Then I heard this voice saying to me that everything was going to be okay. God loved me no matter the sin, which seemed so big to me. He cared about me. I wasn't "damaged." To him I was perfect in my imperfections, no matter what I looked liked to the world. The feeling that came over me is indescribable. When I woke up I felt for sure that God had brough that message just for me. That night I resolved to give Jesus my life. I was 19 then. I didn't go home my whole freshemen year, the summer, or the first half of my sophomore year until Christmas. When I did, I felt that nothing could get me down because of my newfound faith. My self-esteem was higher and I had stopped doing drugs and alcohol. My dad no doubt noticed the change in me. And he resolved to break it. He told me that he didn't like my "attitude problem." I was being disrespectful to him and my mother. His usual attack of verbal abuse to bring down my self-esteem. To make me feel like I had no self worth. It worked. When I got back to college Roxanne noticed something was wrong. I had to overcome this trial I had encountered while at home. At that time she didn't know about my dad's abuse though I think she suspected but was waiting on me to tell her. She also looked at me in a way only she could and said that I had to forgive. She never brought up that again in our last two years of college together but I thought about it continuosly. Could I forgive my dad? And my mom?

Well, my story is getting long again and I'll have to finish the rest later. May God bless you and I hope you got something out of this second part of my life.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Chrissie

by Chrissie
(United Kingdom)

My mum and dad split up after my mum gave birth to me, to find my dad in bed with her best friend. He use to hit my mum before she had me though. So that wasn't the best start to my life. However, my mum still stuck by me and let me have my dad in my life. I'd get to see him whenever I wanted, go shopping just going out and having a good time, the normal thing to do.

I would stop at his place on the weekends. That's where it started going wrong. I can't quite remember just how old I was, maybe about 10 until the age of 13 when it completely stopped for some reason. We'd watch movies, go on the computer, usual stuff. Until bedtime. I'd lie with my eyes closed but still wide awake, waiting and praying maybe not tonight. But it always happened and I did nothing to stop it, just froze in fear. I made excuses. I'd wake up really easily if I heard a noise, I went and took my dog down many occasions and said if any one comes near me at night she'll bark, but he never stopped.

I didn't confide in anyone, and even to this day no one knows, apart from my ex boyfriend who I was with for 4 years.

At first I didn't want to let anyone know. I thought I'd be blamed for not fighting against it, for not stopping him. I tried to ban it from my memory but it'll never fade away no matter how much I try.

I turned to self harm for comfort. Wasn't a great idea because it's a drowning spiral. I hated me for his tortured sick mind.

I didn't really join in much at school, especially in P.E. because of my bandages and plasters I always wore. I felt out of place everywhere I went, and as though everyone knew.

I didn't and still don't communicate with people very often about my feelings and have more trouble socialising with others.

I tried suicide on many occasions, like overdoses and cutting too deep, but then I'd panic. That's when I realised it's not fair on my mum and family that are here and I do want to live. I still get down like that sometimes, but then I think I can overcome this. I just have to try harder.

So over all it did happen and no amount of trying to forget and erase it will work. It's just something you have to live with I suppose. In the end it has made me stronger.

I don't trust people as quickly, which may be a good thing. I haven't talked to my dad since I was 15. I'm now 17 nearly 18. He got with my best friend's mum and was too occupied with his new family, which I don't mind. He never really wanted me anyway. I've got my mum, stepdad, sister and the rest of my family and that's all that I need in life...just can't give up
xox

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Louise1

by Louise
(London, England)

Humiliation and Struggle: 
Where do I start?! I don't really remember absolutely everything of my childhood, but I now know that the way I was treated sometimes has really affected me emotionally and psychologically. Till this day, I feel guilty typing this down because she (my mother) always used to put the blame on me, so I grew up thinking EVERYTHING was my fault. A lot of it I remember was when I started high school.

I was growing up, being a teenager and for the smallest of things she would shout and call me names" 'idiot' 'stupid' 'you have no common sense' 'stupid cow' 'fuksake' 'forgodsake'. Her aggressive shouting used to scare me and raise my heart beat. She used to push me wherever we were in the house. I remember being pushed into the bath and then she used to make me feel like a wally cos I was sitting in the bath half hanging out! She used to pull my hair, scream, point her finger in my face, kick me sometimes, lock me out in the garden for hours, scratch me on my face. She would shout for hours on end in front of my face that her spit would just land on my face every few seconds. After the argument was over (well now I know it was never really an argument it was her emotionally and physically abusing me, making sure she knew she had put all the blame on me) I would pluck up the courage to apologise and make things better, and half the time she didn't want to know. She would turn her back on me, wouldn't want to kiss or cuddle, or make up. Or sometimes she would console me and cuddle and say sorry, in a way that she knew she was wrong for hitting me. (Which to be honest confused me, because I forgave, but then the next week, it would happen again).

One morning we were arguing and I was in my pjs, hadn't had a wash, wasn't dressed appropriately for going outside. I was crying, hot, distressed, I looked a mess, I remember the feeling as if it happened 2 minutes ago, and she threw me out the house. I didn't have nowhere to go. I was in my pjs and I was too ashamed to go to a friend's to explain what had happened. Eventually, after a few hours she would then let me back in.

There are hundreds and hundreds of stories that I remember and think about every day, and I wish they never did.

I am really looking for a way to overcome my anxiety. I am living with my boyfriend now and we are really happy, and this feels odd. I find it hard sometimes to keep happy, arguing to me is normality and to him it is not. I am extremely defensive. Some days I hate myself, in fact most days. Her screaming voice haunts me and the worst thing now is she wants to make it up. She knows what she did is wrong, so now we have a fake relationship. I can't tell her face to face that it really is too late to make up now, and play mother and daughter the way it should have been 6 years ago. It's too late now. The damage is done. I know she will stay mentally ill till the day she dies. But I know there is some hope for me to get better.

I have always seen a light at the end of the day, and that is what has kept me going. I know there is a lady inside of me that is dying to come out, that is not defensive, happy, and is a loving mum. Which is what I am most frightened of happening. I am expecting my first baby and I want to be the most loving mum I can. Totally the opposite to what I have experienced, and what I can remember. I love my mum dearly, but I don't think I will ever forget my horrible experiences.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Katie3

by Katie
(USA)

When I was 2 or 3 years old I was molested more than once by my cousin, Jamie, who was 10 or 11 at the time. Jamie had been molested by her older brother, and may have even been raped, before she hurt me.

I dont exactly remember what happened to me, I only know what happened from stories my mom has told me in the past. My mom was close with her sister, Jamie's mom, when I was little. We were over at their house, which was also my grandparents house, a lot. Jamie would take me into diffrent rooms for hours at a time, but my mom never thought anything of it.

Everyone in my family would praise Jamie for how good she was with little kids, but diffrent incidents started to occur though that made my mom question that. One incident was during a family party. The party was held outside in someones backyard, a barbeque of some sort. Nobody was inside, there was no reason to be because the weather was so nice. There were quite a few kids there along with myself, again I was 2 or 3 at the time, so my mom left me alone to play with my cousins. Well, time went by and suddently my mom realized I was nowhere to be seen. She frantically asked realitives if they had seen me, and searched everywhere in the backyard. Pretty soon everyone was looking around for me, people even left to look up and down the streets. About 10 or 15 minutes after everyone started looking for me, Jamie walked out of the house holding my hand. My mom asked her why we were inside, and Jamie told her we were just playing. Nobody thought anymore of it, but my mom still couldn't understand why we were inside so long during an outdoor party.

Another incident was when Jamie actually endangered my life. My mom and I were at their house, and my mom wanted to go into the other room to talk with my aunt so she asked Jamie to watch me for a few minutes. My mom also warned Jamie not to let me go up the stairs. She explained to her that I knew how to crawl up the stairs, but didn't know how to get down. Jamie assured her she wouldn't let me go near the stairs, and with that my mom left the room. But sure enough several minutes later she heard me scream and came running back into the room to find me at the bottom of the stairs. Jamie had let me walk up, and I had fallen back down. My mom screamed at her, wanting to know why she let me go near the stairs, but Jamie just ran to her room crying.

Although I could have been hurt, I was okay. Other than that Jamie never physically hurt me, but my mom soon found out she was doing something just as horrible as physical abuse, she was sexually abusing me. One day my mom was in the kitchen cooking, and when she glanced down she saw me doing some innapropriate things to my doll, things a todler would not do on their own. She asked me what I was doing, and I told her that was what Jamie does to me. She then told me that what Jamie was doing to me was wrong, and tried to explain to me how it was wrong.

After we talked she called my aunt and told her everything, but Jamie denyed it all. My aunt sided with her daughter, but my mom knew I was telling the truth. She talked to my dad, and although my dad didn't think I needed it, they decided to take me to a child psychologist. I dont remember any of this, but the psychologist talked with me, and with my parents, and explained to me whats right and wrong and how what Jamie did was wrong.

After my mom found out Jamie was molesting me, she never let her around me again. We stopped going to their house, and didn't go to any of the family parties she was at. Infact my mom became very distant with all of her family members exept her parents.

When I was 11 and in 5th grade, I saw Jamie for the first time since I was a todler. It was at a party that neither of my parents were at, and the only reason I was there was because some cousins from out of state were in town and I was dying to see them. Anyways Jamie had showed up. I was nervous at first, and kept my distance, but throughout the party I managed to get a few words in, and before she left we even hugged goodbye. I chose not to tell my mom I met her, but being so close with my mom I couldn't keep the secret for that long and told her a few weeks later. She was upset at first, but I helped her get over it.

Im now 15 years old, and have seen Jamie a couple times since I was 11. I forgive her for what she did to me. I understand that she was a little girl who was hurt once too, and I am at peace with the whole situation. My mom saw Jamie about a year ago at a funeral for the first time. She even went up and talked to her first. Although my mom does not fully forgive her, she no longer keeps me away from her. Our familys are no longer close, they never will be again, but I can say that the hatred is gone.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From That Lad

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

My story: 
When I look back at my first ever smile, it was with my abuser. I said my first words to my abuser. Well, let me tell my secret. When I was 5 my mum left me and my dad.

My dad drank a lot and never had much time for me. He would go the pub and leave me with the babysitter. He was one of my dad's friends. This guy always was very nice to me, something I wasn't used to. He used to play games with me a lot.

On my sixth birthday my dad said he had to go get my present, which meant he was going to the pub. I smiled and said ok. I was glad in a way. I knew I'd get to play like I normally did with the babysitter.

This time when he came would be the day I will always remember. It started out as normal. He made me laugh and he gave me a little cake and sang me happy birthday. He made me happy. He told me he had a game for me, what was only for us, and he had made it up. We always played games so I said ok. I remember he kept saying it's just for us and he had made it up for my birthday.

He said this game would make him really happy and if I was good at it he would take me shopping and buy me something nice. I said ok and smiled, as I thought he's like my father figure, as my dad was always out drunk somewhere. Well, he told me to get on my knees, so I did. He pulled his pants down and looked down at his penis. I had never seen a big penis before and started to cry. He said don't worry. He asked me if I wanted to make him happy. I said yes. He came over and put his hand over my head and said let's see how good you are at my new game. He put his penis in my mouth. He started to pull my head towards him. I was so confused. It hurt so bad. As he pulled my head harder towards him he was moaning saying I was good at the game and he was going to treat me and if I swallow what was going in my mouth I'd win soon. After, I found out what he meant, he came in my mouth. He took me shopping like he said. All the time I thought that was the end.

I didn't know the night after my birthday he would rape me. The next night came. Dad was gone again. He said he got another game. I said I didn't like the last one. He said if I didn't like it this time we would never do it again. I smiled and so ok he says. This game is different. He took my pjs off and laid me on my belly he took all his clothes off. I started crying, saying I don't like it. He said after the game is over, if I didn't like it then he'd never do it again.

When he put himself in me I screamed so loud that he put his hand over my mouth and carried on saying it will be all over soon. When he was done, my whole body was numb. I was so upset that he put me in the bath and washed the blood and cum off me, telling me he would never do it again. He never did, but he took my childhood away. I can't forget what happened, but I wonder who abused me the most: my dad or the guy who made me so happy but so sad.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Marlie

by Marlie
(South Dakota, USA)

I am 15 years old and I am looking for a way to report my abusive dad. He is only abusive to me, his step-daughter. He is wonderful to his three other kids. I have been looking for some way to report it, but I won't do it until I am absolutely guaranteed to get out of the house. I won't report it if my brothers and sister also have to leave. They have a wonderful life and I will not take that away from them, even if it means putting up with abuse until I'm 18 and moved out.

I need to protect myself and get out of that damned house. I will not report the incidences until I am sure to be out.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Marlie" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Lucy1

by Lucy
(Kent, England)

I would like to share my story to help other children, or teenagers, who are being abused, or have been abused. I am 14 years old. I was abused when I was the age of 8-9. My mum met a guy, and I didn't like him. I sensed that he was a nasty man, and from then on he turned out to be.

One day he was shouting at me for something that I didn't even do. He then slapped me. I ran off crying. Another time he tried to drown me. Where he lived he had this pond. He had a boat, and in this pond there was very big fish. I did not like the fish. He found it funny, so he got my head and put in under the water for a matter of seconds. It was so scary. My mum had NO knowledge of what was happening.

After all this I'd had enough. I wanted to go and live with my dad, so I did. After a while of living with him, my mum came round and said, "No, I've made a mistake, I want you back." Well of course I wasn't going back after the abuse that I had suffered. I refused. This all ended up in an argument between my mum and dad. It was horrid. There was pushing and shoving. I didn't like it. Mum and Dad went to court to see who I would live with. My mum won. I was horrified when I found out. I didn't want to go back to that horrid man, but I couldn't tell my mum. I was too scared to, because he said that if I told anyone he would kill me. I refused to go back with Mum, and Dad stood by me.

One day Dad and I came back from eating out. We pulled up the driveway, and he came round the corner in his car. He punched my dad. I ran out the car screaming my lungs out, and crying. After a few days he was arrested, and my mum got rid of him. I went back home to live with mum, but I still haven't told her, until this day, today. But my mum faces going to court now, all because I haven't been going to school for a long period of time. I feel terrible, but I have a reason why I haven't been going to school. The man. He is in my head. He's controlling me. I see him in mirrors. I hear his voice in my head. But my point to this story is to anyone who is being abused or has been abused: PLEASE DO TELL SOMEONE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. You won't regret it like I did. If I could go back in time and tell my mum when I should have done, I would do anything.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kimberly Part 6

by Kimberly
(Location Undisclosed)

I've written here many times before to help cope with the abuse I've suffered and the effects it's had on me. Well this time, I want to take a more positive route. I've began taking my power back from my family.

The last time I trusted a teacher and a school counselor was 4th grade. I told her about the abuse and nothing was done. I thought that I would never be able to trust a teacher or a school counselor ever again.

I was seriously wrong.

It all started at the state marching band trip. Because the marching band was going to be gone for 2 nights and 3 days, I used to opportunity to escape my parents attacks so I texted my mom a couple times just to give her basic information. I completely avoided my dad. While on the way back, my dad left a voice mail on my phone telling me how much of a piece of sh** I was. I got upset about it. A band parent on the bus came and talked with me about it and helped me fight through the tears and cope. It was nice of him. About a week later, it got back to the band director. He called me into his office and we had a conversation about it. He tried to push to find out what happened. Because of my trusting issues, I naturally shut him out and only mumbled that it was normal. He realized that and quickly gave up. This started a bunch of thoughts for me. It was at this point that for the first time, I realized he really cared. So 2 days later, I texted him telling him that I would trust him and explain what had happened but only if he kept it confidential. He told me he would if it didn't involve things that he had to by law report, like physical abuse and such. The next day he took the opportunity to talk to me. I opened up to him and told him about the bus incident and about the verbal attacks I receive. He was amazed. He told me that he wanted to help but would not tell my parents. He told me he would prefer having a school counselor there but I told him that trusting teachers was really hard and that school counselors were much worse. He understood.

Throughout the next couple weeks, I talked with him and continued to give him more and more information on what was going on in my home. I also told him about my depression.

At this time, many friends were also being very supportive of me. Along with him pushing me to talk to a school counselor, another friend was doing the same thing. So I agreed but only if they both would come with me to talk to her. They both agreed. So it was scheduled.

I talked with the school counselor about the verbal attacks at home first. She told me that it was indeed emotional abuse. I already knew this but it was good to know that someone else had figured out the same thing. She told me it sucked but couldn't report it because CPS was still focused on kids being neglected, sexually or physically abused. I said that was ok. I told her about my depression and we talked about options to be me into counseling without my parents knowing which was possible because I am above the legal age to do that. So we talked about various options. I then got courage and asked about reporting things like threats and abuse in the past. She told me she wasn't sure but would ask.

I continued talking with the band director afterward and it kept bugging me that because of the questions I asked, he had a hint but didn't know specifics. So this past Friday, I sent him an e-mail containing most of my stories posted on here. I knew that he would have to report it but also knew that more likely than not, it would just be documented. He read it Monday morning and forwarded it on to the school counselor. I started the reporting process that same day. The reporting was started. It was hard but I knew that it had to happen.

Overall, I'm so amazed that in a span of about a month, I went from only trusting 2 adults, to trusting a teacher and a school counselor as well. This is a major success. And now my physical abuse in the past will be reported. I just wanted to share the success.

All I needed was just to have people there to support me and tell me they care every day and to continue to help reverse the messages my parents have given me.

I'm taking my power back. It's a long and hard process but I'm doing it. With adults and many friends at my side, I will recover. I will heal. It may take years but I am ready for the long and hard battle ahead. My abuse will no longer control me.

Thank you Darlene for this site. It has helped so much.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Paola

by Paola
(West Los Angeles, USA)

I'm a 15-year-old now and I'm a sister of two. Ever since I was growing up I never met my biologic father so my mom married a guy when I was 2 or 3 growing up near a guy that wasn't near to being my father. He would only hit me and my mom and I think he had hate on me cuz I wasn't his daughter! He would hit me with anything. He'd make me feel useless, a piece of s**t. He would treat me worse than a dog. One day I said, "You're gunna regret all this." He said, "I never will." My mom would never do anything so I told my cooking teacher, Ms P. I love her. Thanks to her. She is my hero. I told her and that night my stepdad got arrested. He came out the next day and he hit me and told me he was gunna hit me to death. I was scared so I told my mom we had to move. So we moved.

I'm happier and I don't feel that I'm pressured or anything. I'm glad we moved, but he has custody of my 2 other sisters, like one weekend yes and one weekend no! So I don't go. I don't want to remember anything of the past, and like I said, he did end up kissing ass but I'm scared that one day he will want to take revenge! :( I just hope he doesn't!

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Aaron Part 2

by Aaron
(Location Undisclosed)

Everyone seems to try and help, and i thank you all, but it isn't that simple. He follows me every where i go, I only want to be there for Haley. I've tried to tell someone, but they never really listen. I've told all the people i could think of, and every time i try to tell sombody in the school district, my dad seems to be there to pull me out for the day. I'm still attempting to tell people who really care about me, and so far i've come to my girlfriend's older brother. He would give the world to protect Haley, and especially me, i am just debating on wheter or not to get him involved with my dad, and even though i am sure he already knows, i am going to tell him as soon as possible, for Haley, and for Myself. Thanks again guys for all the advice, and i am really considering most of it. Merry Christmas, and i hope yours was better than mine!

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From BeckiLou

by BeckiLou
( Location Undisclosed)

Oh my, where do I start?

BACKGROUND - Wonderful parents, 3 brothers, 2 sisters, very close to father, I mean 150% "Daddy's Girl"

ABUSE - When I was 12 years old, my uncle and his wife asked my mother if I could come to his trailer and keep an eye on his 2 children. My mother said "yes" but she would be down during the day to help me with the children. For the first week everything was fine. The abuse started out small with snapping my bra or reaching up under my shirt and undoing my bra. Then it progressed into him sneaking into the room at night time. He would go to the bathroom and then get on his hands and knees and crawl into the room where I would sleep. He then had VERY wondering hands, everything but raped me. He would make me sit on his lap with a "Hard-On", he would make me feel him and as I stated before he would feel me up one side and down the other - inside and out.

This went on for about 2 to 2 1/2 years and then I finally had had enough. I was tired of living my life in fear, and having to worry about every little thing I did and said in fear of telling on him. He always said "You know that your mom is going to believe me over you so don't waste your breath on trying to tell her what I have been doing to you." Or, he would simply state that he would hurt me if I told anyone. I finally told my friend what was going on. I was 13 and she was in her early to mid 20's. She told her husband and then he told my mom. My mom walked to my uncle's house and hit him so hard that she knocked him out of his recliner backwards.

My mom, dad, brother and I were put through HELL! After the law was called and after the investigation started I went into DEEP depression. I was taken out of school because of the depression. It took the court system 2 years to finally sentence him but, the whole 2 years he was behind bars I was able to get a grip on life.

What he did to me had affected me in SO MANY ways. I was scared to death of my dad. I was a daddy's girl and that tore my dad apart. When the case was being investigated, Children Services came to our house and went through my closet to see if I was "PROVOKING" the abuse. They questioned my own brother to see if he was doing any abuse to me. As stated above, my family went through HELL with me.

With the way he treated me and the things he did to me, I felt like I was worthless!

Today, I am currently married to a wonderful man who has blessed me with 4 amazing children. I have graduated from college with an Assoc. in Applied Science, Social Services. I told my dad that I wanted to grow from what I was put through, and I feel I have made my daddy very proud of the person I have became out of the abuse.

Are the effects life-long?

Everyday I live with the fact of what he did to me. Sometimes I still cry and still feel disgusted because of what he did to me. I am scared of the dark because every time he did something, it was dark. I fear men in general. I have to have a hanger hang off of my bedroom door because that is what I did back then. When he would try to sneak into the bedroom the hanger would rattle off of the door!

My wish is for this story to reach out to someone in need! I want to be able to help someone cope with the pain and heartache and feelings of worthlessness. If my story only helps someone feel better about themselves, then my wish came true!

My God Bless all who read my story!!!!

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Lonely at Heart Part 7

by Sandra
(Tampa, Florida, USA)

I remember walking out of school one day heading to the bus stop with my friends, when I noticed the van. Every curse I knew at that age ran through my mind, in both English and Spanish. I walked up to the window, and with a smiling face he said, "Come on we are going out." I asked if I could leave with my friends, and he said with a sweet voice that he had been waiting for me and that he had something really nice to show me...we went back and forth for a little bit and then I had no choice but to leave with him. Needless to say that I was furious and I let it show...well, he didn't like that! He said that with behavior like that we were not going anywhere, so he took me home! YES!! I said...I got out of this one!!

Well, as we walked through the door, he told my grandmother that he had found me in the corner of my school making out with some boy and smoking and that all my girlfriends were all with boys as well and that when he asked me to go do a job with him I answered him with 5 stones in my hand, in front of all my friends...he made such a BIG deal about a LIE...my grandma did not believe me and I got a spanking for being a whore and for being disrespectful to the person that was taking care of me and giving me all I wanted like if I was his own child!! (I LOVE my grandma, with her strong hand and all I LOVE HER & ALWAYS WILL...SHE was being MANIPULATED by that A**HOLE)...Always the same lecture, over and over and over again!! All because I didn't want to go be with him...the more I sat in my room and thought about it the angrier I would get...the more my rage grew...until he walked in the room and told me "DE ALGUNA MANERA TE VA A GUSTAR"..."ONE WAY OR ANOTHER YOU ARE GOING TO LIKE IT."

I will NEVER forget those words....at first I was confused and in my anger I was not thinking right. All I thought was how am I ever going to like getting beat?? But the next time that we were "together" he asked it to me in my ear: "DO YOU LIKE IT NOW?? ISN'T IT EASIER THIS WAY??" All I could do was just lay there and take it...close my eyes and cry...

He always did that...LIE...if I didn't want to be with him or if I didn't fight him and we were late to go somewhere it was still MY fault!! I remember one day, I had to go pick up 2 of my girlfriends to give them a ride to school...I had my cello and my girlfriends had the bass and viola. Well, we left the house about 15 earlier so that we wouldn't be late to school...well, I remember to this day it is CLEAR in my mind how I just saw "N & R" standing there in front of the building waiting and we just drove right by...when I questioned, he said that we were going to get breakfast and we would be back for them...well, you can imagine breakfast and we never went back for them.

When I got home I was upset 'cause my friends were mad at me and they didn't want to hear it...they had been late to school. Well, my aunt got a call from my friend's mom expressing how upset she was that her daughter was late and such...so I got in trouble at home because I hadn't told him that we had to pick up my friends...that got me so upset that I started yelling saying that that wasn't true, that I did tell him and that he said that we were going to get breakfast and then pick them up...he was laughing and was like, "Why would we get breakfast if she had breakfast here...I dropped her off in front of the school and left to go to work."

Then like 15 minutes later the phone rings and it's my school notifying that I had been late to school!! Well, he didn't know why I was late if he dropped me off just in time. Where the hell was I going to go with a damn cello??? Well, my aunt didn't want to hear anything that I had to say because lately I was becoming more and more of a LIAR...so...there goes another beating and hair-pulling and name-calling and more lectures and lectures...it was a long long day for me every time I got in to trouble because I didn't do as HE wanted...it was a LOOOOONG day for ME...while he laid on his bed watching TV in his boxers...as if HE HAD NOTHING to do with what was going on!!!!

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That's all for today! God Bless!

See Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 and Part 6 of Lonely at Heart's story.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story from CM

by CM
(Malaysia)

I was 5 or 6 years old when a teenager living in my neighbourhood came by my home offering candy every time I was home alone.

He came with candies every day. Then one day he said let's play a game. But I must never tell anyone about our game. He touched me, he made me hurt, and I never knew it wasn't a game.

Until one day I bled. My mom was angry when she saw my bloodied garments. She kept asking, "What have you done?" I wouldn't tell, because it was our little secret. Then Mom got so angry she pinched me to get me to tell. It hurt so bad, I wasn't sure it was because of the game or because she pinched me so much.

In the same year I was punished and beaten in public by a lady for accidentally cutting her child's foot. The audience of my punishment aged from 5 to 30, male and female, just stood and watched. They wouldn't even let my brother come to my aide.

I was never the same child ever since. I had always remembered both incidents, but never in detail. I suppose it was my own way of protecting myself, and not wanting to deal with it.

I am now 23 and on the route to recovery and healing. It seems like such a long journey, and I still have self esteem issues, anger management issues, but most of all, I can't get over the fact that my mother hurt me further despite the signs.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From CM" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Emily2

by Emily
(Location Undisclosed)

When I was 3 my brother was born. My parents were both addicted to drugs. When my mom would go out to get the drugs, she would be gone for HOURS. Then my dad would beat me and my brother - badly. He almost killed me 3 times. He made me watch as he beat my brother. And he made my brother do the same thing when it was "my turn".

I remember one time he took my mom's brush and he beat me and my brother with it so badly, we had black and blue marks all over us. That went on for about 2-3 years.

I got put into foster care for about 2 years. Then my grandma finally got me and my brother.

I have told my mom what my dad did, and she believes me. I told the rest of the family and they just think I'm making it all up.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Emily2" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Greg Part 2

by Greg
(Colorado, USA)

"I wish you were never born" was yelled at me by my mom as I was growing up. She blamed me for her not going to college and dropping out of high school after becoming pregnant with me. When I was doing my homework or reading out loud to her she would tell me how "stupid" I was and would get so upset with me she would walk away in disgust. I never heard the words "I love you". Instead I heard: "The sight of you makes me puke", "I don't even like looking at you" (because I looked like my dad). "You lazy ass. You're just like your dad."

The worst is when she encouraged my step-father to "beat him like he's never been beat before." I was 10 years old then, and had smacked my 4-year-old half-brother when he hit me in the face with a rock which might have broke my nose. (Wonder where I learned that behavior). Bill didn't disappoint her. She didn't even help me with my bleeding, probably-broken nose before I was beaten into submission. I woke up from this beating with my step-brother helping me with my nose and my backside.

I felt like I was just a thorn in her side until my step-father left. After that she treated me better, but I never really felt I was loved by her. I think she treated my step-brother and I better after Bill left because she needed us to take care of our younger brothers, not because she loved us. Oh, by the way Mom- I graduated from college while working full time. Guess I must not have been that stupid!!

It's a good thing I had an older step-brother who encouraged and taught me and was there to help me throughout my life. Without him, I would have been lost and would not have known what it means to be loved. We talk about our childhood and wonder how we became who we are. We formed a bond throughout the years and believe neither one could have made it without each other.

See Part 1 of Greg's story.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Phyllis

by Phyllis
(Michigan, USA)

Old woman and still haven't forgot: 
My earliest abuse memory is when I was 3 years old. My dad came home drunk and put me and my 2-year-old brother out of the house late at night. My mom did nothing to protect us. I took my brother, still in diapers under the house to the chimney where the fireplace was and we stayed there until daylight, huddled to keep warm. Even as young as I was, I knew we had nobody to protect us or to go to for help. Even after I heard my dad get up and leave for work my mother never came to check on us or help us. Yet to this day I cannot depend on anybody to protect me or help me. I won't let my guard down enough.

The horror we lived through is unbelievable. My dad cursed and damned every bite of food we ate each and every day. I tried not to eat but my stomach would hurt so bad I couldn't hold out more than 3 days at a time. He never bought us clothes. We barely had one outfit at a time. If people gave us clothes he would burn them. They would buy my brother clothes but not me. If I cried because I didn't get anything they would whip me for being jealous. I never thought to begrudge or be jealous, I just couldn't understand why I didn't deserve to get clothes. I would put cardboard or rubber from a tube in my shoes to keep my feet dry in winter. And I was only 6 or so. I became very self protective and independent. Somehow I was able to build a self protective shell around myself to help me handle the violence, abuse and physical hurts.

I can remember telling myself if I worked and studied real hard I could get away from them and be safe. I taught myself to read before I started school. I was one determined little girl. By the time I was 10 or 11 I started working for people and neighbors, sometimes for 10 cents a day dusting furniture and all those stupid little what-nots. I would save and save just to be able to buy a pair of panties, or a skirt at the used clothing store. Even bought used shoes at a shoe shop.

By the time I was 12 or so my parents began to call me dirty names like whore, tramp, slut. In the small little town I lived in people believed my family's lies, never judging me by my behavior or character, only by my family. I hate to admit it, but my family was a bunch of liars, thieves and a drunk. Yet to this day I hate being judged by what my brother does.

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Child Abuse Story From Rebecca

by Rebecca
(United Kingdom)

When I was 7/8 my sister sexually abused me. She was 13/14. We would play a game and it would somehow lead to me laying on the bed naked and my sister performing oral sex on me. I remember being confused because I felt like I should be enjoying what was happening but often it hurt and it felt so weird that I got myself into a real panic. My anxiety attacks started from this abuse but only affected me to the point that I couldn't move until I was safe and in my own room and able to break down. My heart is racing right now and the anxiety could almost crush me like it always used to do but now, through therapy I can control it a little more.

I don't remember when I found out about child abuse but somehow I knew that I had been abused. It was such a strange situation that I had no idea how to even start thinking about what was happening let alone telling someone. I wanted to tell my mum but it was difficult, and I wanted to ask my sister what was going on but it's hard to come out with a question like: "Did you just abuse me because I think you did?" or to tell your mum "Why does N kiss and touch my privates, Mum?".

My sister and I used to play a game that is similar to mums and dads where we would pretend to get married and I was always the girl and my sister was the boy. I don't remember the first time it happened really, but it happened a few times but I didn't know how to stop it. I kind of thought that I had made up what was happening in my own head and it was my imagination making it feel like it was really happening. I was scared and it made me anxious and upset. I have very recently linked that to my chronic anxiety attacks and my great phobia of snakes and my phobia of rape are linked to the abuse. I had locked away the abuse so tightly that I convinced myself that it was a dream and the longer that I couldn't decide if I should ask my sister the harder it got for me to think about asking her and this has carried on for years now.

I loved my sister and I still do now. I am very close to her in a healthy way. The one thing I wish the most is that I could have the strength to ask her, just for confirmation because I know it did happen, that it did happen. That yes she did abuse me.

Only a couple of months ago I told someone what happened. I am 19 and my whole life has felt like a great burden and I have always felt guilty for taking up peoples time or that I wasn't doing what they wanted which meant that I was a teacher's pet and a daddy's girl and the rest. I am one of 4 girls and my oldest sister in particular hates my strong relationship with my parents and all the people I love, but I don't think she would be jealous if she knew why I am such a people pleaser.

I would love some advice. I am gradually getting better through therapy and at accepting what happened to me was wrong and not something that I deserved, but I am still confused. I don't know if I should tell my mother at the risk of hurting her. I don't know if I should pluck up the courage to ask my sister what happened at the risk of damaging our sisterly relationship. I have told my partner of 2 years. He was the first person I ever told, and he was very supportive. It felt so good to tell him because I don't like to keep things secret and I would love to release this burden but in reality, the fact that a person has been abused will never leave them, it will only ever be easier to handle! Or am I being pessimistic? I know what I have been through is drastically less than what some people have been through but I have felt tortured through all of this.

To all of those who are in the same boat, I am glad that there is a place that our secrets can be spoken without fear of judgment to others who understand. Thank you.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Mark S

by Mark S
(South, United Kingdom)

I came from a good family,both parents loved me,had 2 older sisters pet dog and cat.I was just another happy 5-6yr old you would see playing in the street.

My parents used to go out like any other mum and dad did and they would get a baby sitter or i would be taken to a family friend house.i dont remeber many details of where i used to go or when,day or night.

All i remeber is wot happened to me as a young 5-6yr old,knowing wot was happening was wrong but at the same time thinking it must be ok or it would'nt be happening.
Groming,games,roll play,you call it wot you like,it was sexuall ABUSE no matter wot they called it.

She was in her 20's i think, some one i should of been safe around.Little do i no what was going to happen next.her making me rub her boobs while smiling at me.her touching my penis and me feeling very confused by it.she used to take my hand and rub it over her privates,asking me if i like that,my comment to that i cant remember.Making me put my fingers inside her and her placing my penis in her mouth.I was told by her it was our secret and if i told any1 that i would be taken away,i didnt want to be taken away from my mummy and daddy,so i kept my mouth shut.i remember afterwards looking out the window and seeing the christmas tree in the window over the road,thinking why cant i be there instead.im now 33 with a great lady and 2 children,but the lady who abused as took all the happiness out of my christmas's.as soon as i see a xmas tree going up,all i think about is wot happened to me around that time of year1982-83 looking at that christmas tree wish i was there instead.this is the 1st time i have wrote about my abuse and to this day i have never told my parents.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

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Child Abuse Story From G and G

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

No one cares

We are not hungry any more, There are no locks here
There is no bedroom door

There is no more smoke and no more fires.
There are no drunks here and there are no liars.

There are no endless time outs, our clothes are all clean.
Here it's safe to be heard and safe to be seen.

We were safe for a while away from you.
Why did you call us? What did you do?

We were safe all four in the foster home.
If only you would have left us each alone.

You both didn't want us, we were in your way.
Why you called us back, still you will not say.

Our dreams are gone, while your life goes on
still no one knows what it is that you've done.

We were vulnerable and dependent entirely on you,
Yet you kept us locked up while you did what you do.

We are victims, who will speak for us? Who can we tell?
Or should we just wait to see if you and dad go to hell?

I'm sorry that I hurt, making this appear disrespectful.
The truth is I just want you to be remorseful, a little regretful.

I don't want anyone to feel those fires like we did for an hour and more.
Not for a minute and not for eternity, on account of you locking our door.

BUT ...You took our future, we will have no wives
there will be no grandkids you took our lives.
How many generations did you make die?
How long will you both continue your lie?

So tell me please, what should I do?
Should I leave this alone? I bequeath this to you.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From MK

by MK
(Location Undisclosed)

My Past, Present, and Future: 
I'm 15 years old and I have been having a long suffer with emotional abuse and physical abuse. Before I was even born, my father who is 52 now, put emotional abuse and physical abuse on my older siblings. I remember my brother telling me he and my sister would be playing Legos, and if they were too loud my father would throw a shoe at them. He always swears and tries to put us all down.

My father is an alcoholic, a drug user, extreme bipolar but refuses to take medication, and is a very big hypocrite. He would always come home late from partying or high on drugs. He would always put us down; nothing was good enough in his eyes no matter how hard we would try. I would always wake up to him talking in his sleep like he was talking with the devil himself; it scared me. He would always go in the bathroom and lock the door and take drugs. That all backfired on him when he got Hepatitis C from a 'drug buddy'.

I thought it would be all over when he suddenly started going to church and praying for a while there. But then he got back to his old ways.

My mom will always have faith he will get better but my siblings and I think otherwise. The drugs will always be calling forth for him; dormant, waiting to be released.

He always criticizes us harshly about every little detail possible even though we are all working hard.

My brother is an electrical engineer but in his teens he had depression and thoughts of suicide. My sister is a nurse who also had depression in her teens. I myself have depression, but luckily will not have thoughts of suicide but it's always in my mind the lack of affection he always had toward us.

He became very violent years ago when my sister was my age and one day when she was sick and did not want to go to school he hit her with a mirror and it smashed and cuts and blood were all over her arm, making her go to school; but we kept it a secret.

My friends would always ask about my dad and say how they never saw him when they came over. I would just say he worked night shift; that was not the case. I would hide my emotions which made me even more depressed which resulted in computer addictions, sleeping disorders, and also eating disorders. My friends then knew something was wrong so I finally let go of all the secrets. I never went to a counselor, not because my family told me not to; it's because I'm afraid of what will happen. I am shy at heart which made me not want to do it.

I realize to this day that my mom might not want to divorce him; but if it wasn't for her I would be out on the streets or dead. She cares deeply for us and she is my everything. I might not have the burden of my father off my shoulders; but I've had a weight lifted off me from the amount of support I have had from my siblings, my mom, and my friends. I am a lot happier than before. What my father says now means nothing to me and I ignore it. That is what I cope with best. I won't let him ever get the best of me. I have learned to never lose faith, because it will be worth it in the end.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Shane

by Shane
(USA)

I am 21 now and I feel as though this has scarred me for life. I was physically abused from elementary school through middle school.

I always thought my family was normal. I am the oldest of three, and I always just assumed I was supposed to be the responsible one. Every bad action I did as a kid resulted in severe punishment. I thought it was how it was supposed to be though. I was so stricken in fear that I became afraid to disappoint my dad. I was afraid of the punishment. It seemed as though every single thing I did was wrong, everything. There are many events that will always be stuck in my head.

One major one that I keep returning to was when I took a Powerade from the fridge. There were a lot in there for my brother's baseball team. My dad came home from work and noticed one was missing, and yelled for me to come out to the kitchen. He always had this furious face that makes me tear up just thinking about it. He yelled at me for taking the Powerade, and I begged that I was sorry. He raised his hand and I cowered in fear as he hit me to the floor. He then began kicking me repeatedly with his steel-toed boots as I was crying. After a while he just walked away as I lay there, beaten and crying.

Another time I was on a Boy Scout campout. He was a scoutmaster. On the last day, my patrol finished packing and we were looking for flattened coins over by the railroad tracks across the field. When my dad noticed, he yelled at me specifically and ran all the way across the field and hit me down and began kicking me in front of all my friends.

He has also done things like pushed me off the unfinished deck, in the gap between the deck and house; knocked me on the ground out of a camper right in front of my friend; along with many others.

I cringe and flinch a lot whenever someone raises their hand quick, and I noticed that I am very submissive, have drastic mood swings from happy to sad, become very emotional easily, have been extremely depressed, disassociate with all people, late bloomer with relationships, feel like I'm never good enough, afraid of disappointing people, have extreme trouble dealing with my girlfriend's sexual past, have contemplated suicide in the past, and I am extremely lonely.

I feel like these are all side effects of the abuse. My dad only targeted me with it too, neither my siblings nor my mother. I feel like an outcast in the world. The sad thing is, I didn't realize anything was wrong with me until more recently.

I try so hard to be successful, but these things always want to drag me down. If anyone would like to talk with me I'll greatly appreciate it.

Thank you for reading and caring!!!

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From S

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

I'm not sure when the abuse started...my earliest memories of something being wrong was when I was about 8 I think...

My Mum and Dad split up before I was born and my Mum met my abuser when I was 3 or 4. I remember feeling upset because he always shouted at me...I remember trying to be good but always getting shouted at. We moved to another country for a year with his work when I was 4...I was very upset to leave all my family. I remember he used to come into my room just before I fell asleep and check if I was asleep - I don't think anything happened then...I just remember being frightened of him.

We moved back home when I was 5 and things seemed ok - but I don't remember much at all until I was about 7 or 8. He used to tickle me a lot but it hurt sometimes...he liked being domineering. I used to sit on his knee watching TV and that's when he started putting his fingers between my legs. All I remember thinking was that it hurt. He used to do it when my mum was in the room - and I had to stop myself from wincing so my mum didn't see. This happened quite regularly - then I remember one day he told me to come upstairs after he'd gone to bed. I remember lying to Mum saying I was tired. I went upstairs and he did things in bed...I can't remember much, but remember him making me hold his penis. All I wanted was for it to stop, I felt so guilty as Mum was downstairs. She'd already gone through an awful time with her first marriage breaking up - I didn't want this one to fail...my younger brother was only about 2...I didn't want him to not have his father around like me.

The next morning he would come through and say what "we" did was wrong and I shouldn't say anything to Mum. I agreed but felt so guilty. Eventually after this happened a couple times more I told Mum. She was really understanding...but I just didn't want to tell anyone else...I didn't want them to split up...I just wanted it to stop.

It did stop for a while...then when he was drinking...he'd start getting all amorous. I don't remember how long this went on for...he made me kiss him sometimes...and sometimes held up my top and touch and kiss my breasts.

I think one day though...maybe when I was about 14 or 15...I had enough...I told him myself to stop and stood up to him. I talked back, which he hated...he shouted and glared at me...but I was determined not to let him get to me...

So...it all stopped, I grew up more...went to University...started having sexual relationships...it was always sore...I just felt useless...damaged goods.

Eventually I started telling my close friends what had happened - bit by bit over the years...and it has made it better. I no longer feel ashamed of it...

My mum and step dad split up a few years back...and there's a whole other story behind that...but I am closer than ever now to my mum and brothers...

I don't blame my mum for not leaving him. We had no money and now we have all made a fantastic life for ourselves...I have a really successful life and so have all my brothers. My step dad however, is just a sorry state of affairs.

I feel that I have healed a lot from my experiences...the only thing I still feel I struggle with is intimacy. My longest relationships have ended up being platonic after a few months because after the initial lust wears off I struggle to form more intimate bonds. I would cry having sex and it would freak my boyfriends out because they didn't want to hurt me. I have found someone now though who is really really supportive - but I still struggle to enjoy sex for what I want, and not just to make him happy.

There are times when my boyfriend tries to start sexual contact and I freeze, feel like I just want to throw him off...if I try to ignore this feeling and get into it, it's fine and I really enjoy it. However, it sometimes makes me feel like maybe I don't want to have sex, etc. It's started to cause issues...not with him as he's been very supportive, but with me.

I think I need to learn to stop feeling responsible and guilty for everything...I will get there...and I think just writing about this today has helped. I'm not sure I will ever be one of these people who just gets carried away with the moment and throws themselves wholeheartedly into a relationship or situation because I am always just too cautious.

The best advice I would give anyone having been through this type of experience is to talk...and not feel ashamed. It's not you who is weird, or wrong...it's your abuser. They may never be able to heal themselves as they take out on others...we can heal - I promise. x

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Santagirl Part 2

by Santagirl
(Canada)

Continued from Part 1 above: 
I just got in trouble for stealing my step moms morphine, selling it, and snorting it and dating a guy whose 21 who i love very much who is also getting charged for being a sexual offender and supplying minors (me) with illegal substances and booze and cigarettes. I'm p***ed off as s*** and am going to explode soon. I had a choice: stay home and get charged for drug possession and trafficking and for theft OR move 3500 miles away from anything i've ever known. I cant have any of my old clothes or anything.

I, obviously , chose to keep my crim record clear and try to change. I've been sober for a couple of weeks and i've only had one cigarette in the last week. My life is presently hell. My mind is doing the play-stop-rewind thing about everything, all the abuse, anything hurtful anyone has ever said to me and all my mistakes and anything i've done to hurt other people. I can't turn it off. It hurts. I cant stand the fact that I'm only 14 and yet i can tell you stuff about sex that's insane, i can tell you stuff about drugs that are insane, i can tell you trade secrets to selling drugs and i can tell the difference between hormones and the real thing. I hide behind a shell that portrays me as sweet and innocent,i can't bear to see someone hurt and part of me wonders how i can act with so much towards other people that have hurt me so much, i haven't known love the way a child should, and i don't know the meaning of the word trust, and to trust blindly, to me, is no different from jumping off a cliff 200 meters in the air with sharp rocks and raging white river at the bottom.

I don't talk too much about sin, but to destroy a child's innocence is a sin. No child should suffer what i've been through. A mother who doesn't care and is a meth addict. A father who's an alcoholic and a used to be opium addict. A step mom who believes everything should o her way and cant give a rats a** about what you think or how you feel and makes you clean her house all the time while she sits or spoiled rotten a** (god! Almost sounds like Cinderella). Friends who only like me while i have the connections they need to get drugs. A past of mistakes and I'm only 14. Its sad. Sometimes i wonder how i can not want to kill every single person who ever touched me or took advantage of me, but i think I'm not the victim. The people who hurt me are. If they were in such a low place in their life that that's what they had to do, they truly are the victims. Victims of a society that spends all its time ignoring any pain or imperfection. I'm just happy that it happened to me instead of someone else. A lot of people would find it near impossible to withstand the pain. I know i have. I've attempted suicide cuz of it i've tried any drug in the book except meth and heroin pretty much. It doesn't make the pain any less but as long as i live second by second, I'm somewhat OK, at least I'm alive, i'll survive the soundtrack in my mind...play-stop-rewind-play-stop-rewind-play-stop-rewind....

I had to tell someone this, i cant tell my family, they don't care. I can't really tlk about it otherwise, this is only the second or third time i have ever talked about, and release is good. It'll take a long time for me to ever trust or love the way a normal person does but hopefully i'll get there someday. I know this is really long but it's sadly true.

Thanks

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Child Abuse Story From Alice2 Part 1

by Alice
(Massachusetts, USA)

I am 25 years old, originally from germany I have now lived in the states since 2005.east germany, 1989: my first childhood memory is my father and mother screaming at each other and arguing, he wanted the car keys and she didn't want to give them to him , keeping him from leaving somewhere, I was must have been 4 years old. My brother and me were crying and didn't understand what was going on, just wanted them to stop. He pushed her and she fell onto a little plane my 1 year older brother had built and she smacked her heasd on the furniture.

After that, next thing i remember is evrbody was crying and we were sitting on my fathers lap on the recliner, my mother in the kitchen crying.. Next flash. She was throwing our clothes into a big black trashbag,and we left to go to my grandparents house. I remember waking up at night once, i peed in the bed, i was so emberrased, now beeing an adult i understand that it was the effect of what happened at that time, the awfullness started to take it's toll on me.

Next i remember going back, my father had left, a new man came into our lifes, beeing so little and needing love we grew on that man very quickly... Next thing i know they broke up and she was with somebody else, we also loved him, he was a nice man, i do remeber he hit us sometimes, i dont know why, he was a nice man, my mother said we misbehaved, we were used to her smacking us, it was normal back then, i always hated to be smacked though.. I mean who likes that right? In that time the other man still saw us, he waited on our schoolway home and gave us presents and was so nice and always cared how we were doing. He missed us. It was weird to see that as child, not understanding why he does that. Feeling guilty almost.

He soon was back in our lifes, my mother broke up with frank and michael was back with us. My father had moved on with a new girlfriend, we liked her, but when she had their first child everthing went down from there, she didn't seem to like us anymore beeing around and we felt unwelcome at their house, needless to say my mother hated his guts and made sure we knew about it and saying we don't feel welcome at his new wifes house was seemed to be a triumph for her and michael. Michael, was a psychologist, working at the jail together with my mom, she worked there as a nurse.

I don't remember exactly how my sexual abuse started but i know i must have been 5 or 6. And as a child i masturbated, i know my brother did it too, why i don't know. Maybe we just figured it out ourself, a lot of kids do that. I guess.

But i now think that he must have walked in on me doing it and telling me its ok and encouraging me. Because i remember times that he would come in at night and wanting me do do it while he was there touching me. It felt wrong and gross and i was ashamed but i didn't know what else to do. My mother was always at work at those nights. I hated that. I wanted her to be home.

My brother and me shared a room. We moved into a house were i had my own room and michael never wanted us to be in a room together. He started to turn us against each other. Also started to brainwash me and my brother, like he is useless and my mother loves him more than me and he will be on my side always and protect me. He was playing a sick game. He started to try to put a big rock between us and the entire family making sure we are not close to anyone. Started to turn my mother against her own family. He accused my uncle of having sexual relationships with my cousin, his step daughter, while he was sexually abusing me himself. It grew into a relationship between him and me, i was a child for gods sake how could he do this to me? When my parents married, he said we were marrying and he wants to leave my mother one day to be with me. How sick is that?

I don't want to go into details but everybody will know what i had to endure throughout the years. You just start to give in and do things yourself willingly just so he wont make ur life hell. Whick later one makes you suffer from guilt because you think you wnated to do those things because you just did them.

He also made my brother and me do things to each other. While he was watching. He also made us feel guilty saying we are doing things together in the abstinence of my parents making us feel like perverts making my brother feel like he is sick. Also accusing my mother of having sexual relations with my brother.

Why didn't she wake up back then and leave that sick bastard? She was brainwashed, made dependent on him, useless without him. She often said that she would hang herself if she would lose him. And he would always say to me he would kill himself if i would ever say anything, i was protective of my mom, didn't want her to kill herself because of losing him, and i dind't want her to lose the house or our family falling apart.

I grew older and realized what he is doing, and often threatened him and told me to leave me alone, he made my life hell, turning my mother against me. I couldn't live with that and gave in, gave him what he wanted.

I was disgusted with myself. I had no way out. I always acted and pretendet i was amoviestar and there were cameras around while i was doing vertain things i felt uncomfortable with, that was my way of seperating him and everything that came with it from me. I swore to myself that he would never be able to brake my spirit.

When i met a boy at 17 years old, he knew i was sirious about him and i wouldnt let hm take that away from me, like he did before when i had a boyfriend,. I was never aloud to sleep over anybodys house except of that of my best friends and he even hated that. He always asked me if we were doing things and if i saw he boobs and talking about trhe development of other girlfriendsi had, i thought it was so gross. We were a team though , when i gave him what he wanted i got what i wanted too. I used that. I turned into a two faced person, an actress, a user so to say. But only to him. He used me, i used him.

Back to my boyfriend that i met, he was so pisse that he said to me he gives me a week of notice to let them know where i am goint o be living. I didn't give in like he expected me to do, instead i saw my way out and packed my bags ans moved in with my boyfrined who was living withhis siter who was going to the same school to do her apprenticeship with me. He never stopped harrassing me and brainwashing me and wrote me letters downtalking my boyfriend, psychologically analysing him, he's always done that with me and everybody i knew. Our relationship failed of course and i was back at my parents house after a year and a half, i was devistated and wanted to get the hell out of there. My stepfather made my life living hell while i was gone, loosing so much weight looking like a scelleton making everybody think i a a monster who puts her parents through hell because i left them.

They didnt know my reasons. I soon moved back with my ex just to get out of there and the whole thing started again. I remember my grandpa yelling at me how terrible i am and how i can do this to my parentd, how i can cause them so much pain. I cryied and yelled that he has no idea what is goin on and one day he will know why and he will be sorry. At that moment he realized something was terribly wrong and they soon had their suspicions of things.

I hated beeing back with my ex, i couldnt stand him, remembering laying with him and bed and crying after we had intercourse, feeling like i am dead and disgusted and wanted to die.

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Child Abuse Story From Samantha G

by Samantha G
( Indiana, USA)

I'm currently 13 years old. I've been through a lot in my life. The only time someone talks to me in my house is whenever I'm getting yelled at. It hurts me inside. My nose is broken. I have cracked ribs. I cut. I pop pills. I have had both my arms broken. Every night I go to sleep wondering if I'm going to live the next day. I feel that I'm going to be sexually abused.

My mom has this one boyfriend. He's a very big pervert. He stares at my ass and at my boobs all the time. I feel like he's going to rape me and my older sister one day. Because I'm a minor he can't do anything. But when I turn eighteen I'm scared I'm going to be raped. I don't want to live in this house anymore. I have been abused for a total of 11 years of my life. All the abusing stopped when I ran away and didn't come back for a week.

When I was first born, my father asked my mother to marry him. She said no. So he hit her. And then grabbed me out of her hands and picked me up and threw me against a wall. He pushed my sister down three flights of stairs. And he said he wanted to teach our family "a lesson". So every night my mom would go to sleep with a bloody nose, or lip or a knot on her head. My sister protected me. She would always pick me up and take me out of the room so I didn't get hit. And whenever I was about to, she jumped in front of me. And she got hit.

One day when I was about 4, I was in a stroller. And he pushed me down the driveway and a car was coming. The car hit me. And after that my mom, sister, and I left. Then we moved in with another man named Randy. He was close to abusive as my father was. He would sexually abuse me and my sister. Me and my sister would cry and hold each other in my closet in my room, waiting for Mother to come home from work. Those 8 or 9 years of my life were hell. But my whole family and people around me wonder why I'm so protective over my friends and family. And they wonder what I've been through. It hurts so bad to talk about. And I have so much anger and rage inside of me. People ask themselves, why did she get put on probation? Because someone said, "You should get hit again!" And when she said that, I saw my dad's face. Then I hit her. And when I did that I felt I had crept down to his level. Watching her bleed, like he did to my mom, sister, and me. I just want my father to go and f**king die!!! and rot in prison!

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Larissa1

by Larissa
(Pensacola, Florida, USA)

I'm actually in the process of writing a story about my life. When I had the guts to tell people about my life most say Wow, you need to write a book about that. My healing process started when I was ready to sit myself down and write about my life.

As far as I can remember my father had started sexually abusing when right around the age of five. My mother was abused herself. She too had a fear of my father. Every time she had tried to leave he would threaten to stalk her and find her and then kill her or me. As I got older he became very physical towards us. I remember being thrown against walls, choked until I just about passed out, punched and slapped around like a rag doll. He mostly took his anger out on me when my mother was away at work. She didn't know about the sexual abuse. I was afraid to tell her. I knew in the back of my head there was nothing she could do to help me. I remember hearing her scream and cry at night, and I would look under the door of my bedroom and watch in fear as my father beat her over and over again.

I soon started to cut myself. This was a way for me to deal with the pain. Sometimes he would pull out his huge leather belt and pull my clothes off and strike me with it over and over again. Most the time I would lose count after 11 or so. I still to this day can feel the burns of the leather strap against my skin, and I have some scars to remind me of how much it hurt.

He got so bad that my mother had gone to work one night and he placed in some dirty movies and made me sit and watch them with him. At one point he became so violent he had ripped all my clothes off and made me have sexual intercourse with him and perform favors to him. I was about ten by now. Seemed like the more I fought to get away the worse he would become with me. I feared him so much and knew that one day he would be capable to killing one of us if not both of us. He sometimes would walk the house at night carry that gun in his hands, all of us scared to death.

I often blamed myself for the things that took place and no matter how hard I tried to tell someone it always seemed to backfire on me. I'm proud to say that after 16 years of torment and abuse my mother finally had the guts to call the police on him and he was arrested. After a week of trial in court he was charged Guilty of many counts! He was then sentenced to nine years in prison. In the year of 2002 he had escaped from his parole officer, and now as I had spent many of those years trying to recover I found myself living the nightmare once again. That's another story!

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed

by Name Undisclosed12
(Location Undisclosed)

If I write my name, he'll find this...sorry: 
When I was a little girl, my dad and mom divorced. My mom's landlord and friend became my dad's friend. I don't know when it started, and frankly I'm not sure it even matters. My dad, my 'uncle', and my stepdad all raped and molested me as soon as they met me. My stepdad began when I was 5, the other two had been slowly introducing me into their world, since toddlerhood.

This is so hard to do right now, I finally bit the bullet and am signing myself up for some counselling. I had major flashbacks today that make me feel very unsettled and nauseous. I have to remain strong for my children, so I shove it away til I have time to deal with it.

Today, I had flashbacks of my father and my 'uncle' raping me, together. I was at most 10 years old. By the age of 12, I'd experienced every sexual perversion you can think of, every kink, every fetish.

On top of that, I have smaller flashbacks (scarier) of being used by a handful of men in one room.

I already, before today, was aware of all the acts, the sex magick, drugs, pornography, torture, brainwashing, primary abusers, religious rituals, and how they've affected my life. But being 'aware' is as far as I've come in many of these so far (as of 6 months ago)

There's also the memory about my dad getting me pregnant, though through all the drugs, I'm not sure that'll ever be put down as a certainty or not. Though every part of me believes I was pregnant. I was 14.

I'm looking for a safe, open-minded message board to talk about these things on...I feel as though I need to talk to people who've gone through as much as I have, or at least can empathise with what happened to me.

I'm freakin' out right now...it's more than I had thought happened. I want to burst out into tears, throw up and I want to curl into a ball in bed and scream, just like I did as a little girl.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Giorgia

by Giorgia
(England, United Kingdom)

I'm 15. I live with my mum, dad, lil brother and sister. I have never really had a good memory, but I always remember every beating that I got.

A year ago we moved to a new area, only this time we had neighbours. We never lived in a detached house before. My mum didn't want us making too much noise in case of what next door would have thought of us. But one night, me and my mum was arguing. I can't really remember why we was, all I can remember was being in my room praying to god to calm my mum down or I was somewhere else. I got under my covers so at least when she would hit me it wouldn't hurt as much, but she pulled the sheets of me and started slapping me all over my face. She dragged me on the floor and ripped my pajama top and then one last slap got me in the eye. She stopped after that and told me to get to bed. My face was so sore, and when I woke up for school the next day my eye that she slapped was really swollen and bloodshot. I came down for my coat and she just said to me, "I never done that." I told her she did, and she made me swear not to tell the school. No teacher really asked me how I got it except one. He asked me if I had been fighting with another girl. I replied, "Yes."

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Grace4

by Grace
(Location Undisclosed)

I've been continuosly beaten since the time i was 7, from what i remember, but my older brother has told me it's been since i was 4. Over the years, as i've gotten more and more like my father, my moms gotten worse at it. It's progressed into something i have to deal with weekly. My fear is that it will turn into something more frequent. I have tried to escape, but my dad's $10,000 plus has obviously no use for the court, since that how much he paid to fight for full custody for me, and still lost. My mom worked into the court room and put on her best show, cried and said "I am the best mother i can be." that sold them. I guess the trips to the hospital having been stabbed didnt raise any questions. The old hag has stabbed me 3 times so far, and has still not stopped. My 23 year old brother comes over every weekend, and my mom stands in the laundry room for hours doing his laundry, but i'm 14, and ive done my laundry since i was 10. I recently had an accident, where my fingers been cut off, and now ive been stuck wearing dirty clothes. That's not all, but that's a minor example. Ive told guidence counslers at school, teachers, and even a therapist. None of those people believe me, or they just dont do a thing about it. So with having deal with 7 years of memories of it, 10 years of abuse from what ive been told, ive learned, the world is unsympathetic and cruel. The abuse is something i know i will have to live with until January 25th, 2013. ALONE.

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Child Abuse Story From Anonymous37

by Anonymous
(Location Undisclosed)

I don't know what happened: 
For starters, I don't know who it was, how old I was or what happened. All I remember is that it was dark and there was someone pressing down on me, rubbing against me. The next thing I remember is pain, such deep pain which I now know must have been penetration. Every so often these memories come to me. I still don't know what happened, as I think I was too young to remember it fully. It scares me when I think about it because aside from these memories, my life seems perfect. Maybe I'm just imagining these things but I had these memories when I was 6 and younger. No 6-year-old would imagine that, would they?

Now that I am older these memories often make me question my sanity. I find it hard to be intimate with people because of this dormant fear of what happened.

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Child Abuse Story From Marie1 Part 3

by Marie
(USA)

I was harassed and teased in school. By my teens it was really wearing down on me. I tried to confide in my mother about it. She just told me that she wasn't surprised. What did I expect with the attitude I had, and she said no more about it. Often growing up whenever I began to shed tears my mom would get really annoyed and go "What are you crying about now?" Crying meant that I needed to toughen up. Nothing was done to make me feel better.

When my dog had puppies there was one I really wanted to keep. I could have it if I would let them put my dog to sleep. I said no of course. Every now and then my father would threaten to kill my dog or to give it away. If we didn't keep the yard clean of its feces, or if he was just annoyed in some way.

One time when I was maybe 15 I was told to wash the dishes. Me and my brother were lazy and needed chores. Why they waited until we were 10 and 15 to start assigning chores I don't know. I tried to make it fun for my brother. I was laughing and smiling. My dad came into the kitchen and asked what was so funny. I said something like work is easier if you can make it fun. This for reasons I'm still completely unaware of caused him to start screaming about how work isn't fun. It's called work for a reason. Then I ended up slammed up against the kitchen wall, his hands around my throat.

From being very young until I moved out at 20 I heard the following phrases probably hundreds of times: you have no ambition, you have no motivation, you're going to end up a drug addict, that's what's wrong with you, can't you do anything besides read and draw all the time?

I remember participating in one of those grade school read as many books as you can to win free pizzas type things. As I sat on the couch with my stack of books I was accused of pretending to read. It was suggested there was no way I could comprehend those books. And I was told that I wasn't as cute or as smart as I thought I was.

When my report card said I was belligerent and lacked confidence my parents found the belligerent part very funny. My dad told me that I needed confidence. I asked what confidence was and how could I get some. He said if I didn't know what it was there was no way he could help me. I was 6 years old. He just demanded that my next report card not say I lacked confidence. What?

When I was maybe 9-10 years old my father took to watching pornography in front of me and my brother. He'd show me Playboy magazines. If a woman was engaged in sexual activity I was told "That's what you're for" and that I needed to know how this stuff worked. He would rent pornography and show it to me and my friends. He never touched us, but did once say something very weird in my opinion. We were watching a show where someone molested a child. "If I ever do that to you, shoot me in my sleep." One day my mom came home early from work to find me and my friends watching a porn with a vampire theme. Having been molested as a child she promptly freaked out. Everyone was sent home. My dad was told it was illegal to expose children to pornography. And she accused him of being a child molester and asked me later if he'd done anything. I don't even want to think much about this event. It sounds like he was grooming.

When I was about 23 I decided to demand an explanation and an apology for my treatment. I told him to stop treating my brother the way he was. Whenever I visited my brother was very upset. After my father said anything a little bit negative to him he'd tell me how he hated himself, how he was worthless, how he sucked. He'd sometimes punch himself over and over. And go "stupid stupid stupid". I obviously found this disturbing. I confronted my father. Told him to stop verbally abusing my brother and asked him why he did it to me? He did not apologize. He in fact laughed and said "It isn't my fault if you're stupid enough to believe everything I say." He seemed very proud of himself.

My brother still lives there. Is 28 years old. Has never had a job besides a childhood paper route. Never had a girlfriend that I know of and as far as I can tell does nothing but play online RPGs all day and night. I tell my mom get him counseling, make him get a job, take him into the world. He wants help. Nothing is done. Whenever I talk to my brother about it he gets angry and attacks me. I don't know what to do. It's really upsetting.

I've only ever had dead-end jobs. I'm 33 and have never made more than $12 per hour. I have no friends. I literally do not have one friend. I don't really trust anyone. I've had Cognitive Behavioral Therapy though and it's helped me able to leave my apartment and answer the phone, both of which still do cause me anxiety. I work because I have to, but if I were wealthy (from a massive lottery win for example) it would be quite easy for me to never leave my home again. When in public if I hear people laugh I feel like they are laughing at me. People look malicious. Like those commercials when PAXIL first came out, where everyone looked angry, hostile, and distorted like the reflection in a fun house mirror...that is how people often look to me. It's a real chore to interact with people and I need to recover from the exertion whenever I attend family functions or somehow get dragged to a party or bar.

I have a lot of rage in me. It's mellowed out over the years. I tell myself my father didn't know any better. I try to forgive him. But something is obviously still bothering me. Someone accidentally bumping into me in the supermarket doesn't call for me wanting to punch them in the face. Not that I have. Just get the impulse. After reading other stories on here, this might not sound like much. But it really impacted me quite a bit.

I've written these events all out of order. I'm married now with a baby of my own. I will never treat her the way I was treated. I guess I do have one friend. My husband.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

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Child Abuse Story From Joe2

by Joe
(Location Undisclosed)

Years of abuse: 
I am a 40 year old male that grew up in a very physically abusive household. Beatings from my dad were very common, and as a result of these beatings I have recently undergone issues with my back and neck. These injuries are directly linked to heavy blows I received to my back as a youngster by my father figure. It has now impaired my ability to live a normal life with regards to my job and my ability to support my family financially. MRI's and further medical testing have confirmed this, and I need to know what I can do for the sake of a normal life for myself and my family. To this day, he feels as though he has done nothing wrong and it was merely his way of discipline. I don't know what to do.

Joe

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Joe2" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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Child Abuse Story From Me2

by Me
(Location Undisclosed)

I was apparently something my father didn't want from the beginning because he dropped my mother off at the hospital and went home before i was born. As I aged I began to notice that everything I did was wrong to him. When I became a teenager I saw him as a cold heartless man that I was afraid of. He never showed any emotion other than anger when I tried to talk to him at all and this made me scared of him. If I made any kind of mistake his answer would be 'that's what you get' or do you see what you did' or if he was angry and yell he'd tell me 'it was all MY fault' and state this over and over until I'd cry and then he'd ask me what was the matter even though he knew why I was crying. It's like he provokes me and bullys me. I don't know why he does this to me and i'm extremely sensitive. I don't do things teenagers do to get in troubly and I barely leave the house. It doesn't sound like much but there's always more. Why does he blame me for EVERYTHING?

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Child Abuse Story From C XX

by C XX
(Glasgow, United Kingdom)

It all happened when I was 13/14. My friends and I started hanging around an amusement arcade, skipping school, drinking and being reckless.

The person who owned the arcade was a man in his late 40's. Soon we were in there every day and he became a frequent figure in our life. He began by offering us drink, giving us free tokens for the machine and allowing us to stay there after the arcade had closed.

He soon propositioned my friend, stating if she slept with him, he would give her £50. My friend had not lost her virginity, so he offered her £30 for a blowjob. There was about 5 of us, all in school uniforms, all the same age.

Soon he confronted me for sex, again offering £50 for full sex. I had lost my virginity and followed through with this, as did a couple of the others. What really annoys me is that whoever went with him, the money was then divided between us all.

I remember the pain I felt as he entered me, I only had sex once prior to this (which was far too young).

This went on for about a year or two. Then we moved and I lost touch with him and my so-called friends. A few years later, CID chapped my door asking to speak to me. Apparently one of my friends had told her friend what had happened, and they in turn told their mum, who went to the police. This is why the story came out.

I gave a full statement and had the shame of my parents knowing of the situation, which really hurt them. He then pleaded guilty and was sent down for 7 years.

I know what he did was wrong, but I was wrong for agreeing to it in the first place, and then for accepting money for this. If I had said no...I am sure it would never have happened.

I am now a settled 29-year-old, in a good relationship, but these thoughts still appear. I do believe I too was to blame because I and my friends all played a part in this.

C XX

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Shanelle

by Shanelle
(Iowa, USA)

My sister had her first baby at 13. After that I was always in trouble even when it wasn't my fault. My niece never did anything wrong in my mom's eyes, she was perfect.

When I was in middle school my sister's boyfriend tried to molest me. I remember a few times he would come into my room in the middle of the night and he would be naked. He would whisper my name and try to wake me up but I would ignore him. He would eventually go away. One night I distinctly remember waking up and he was pinching me on the bottom. I told him to get out and he did. Other than pinching my bottom he never tried anything more and I was grateful.

I became friends with a girl down the street from me and I practically moved into her house. My mom would come every so often and get me and make me try to stay home but I always found my way to my friend's house again. When I was in 7th or 8th grade I happened to mention something about what happened to me to my friend and she told her mom. A few days later I was called to the counselor's office at school. My friend's parents were there along with my mom. I didn't remember much of what was said but my mom never said anything to me about what happened after that.

The years passed and nothing was ever said. I started to hate my sister because I couldn't understand how she could stay with the guy after what he did to me. I never had the courage to say anything to my mom either. In high school I said something to my mom about my sister staying with her boyfriend after what he did to me. What my mom said after that I will never forget. She said in an offhand way, "I never told her." I was absolutely shocked. I kept thinking my sister's boyfriend, who she has 2 children with, tried to molest me and you didn't bother to tell her? I couldn't believe it and I've never forgotten it.

I've always been afraid to talk back to my mom. My mom has a temper; she would be upset and yelling one minute and then would be perfectly nice the next minute. She would pretend nothing had happened and she couldn't figure out why I was so upset. I always stayed to myself and read books. I never went anywhere because it would upset her if I did. I believe now it was because she did not want to be alone. She's the must ungrateful, selfish person I have ever met.

A few years ago after my son was born I developed postpartum depression. In one of my moods I sent my mom a message asking her why she never did anything about my sister's boyfriend and why she didn't tell my sister what happened. She had the nerve to say that she did. I've asked my sister about the whole situation and my sister truly didn't know about anything that happened. My mom never told her. I've wanted to talk to my mom about it but I realize now that she truly thinks she didn't do anything wrong. It's like she pretends that I never told her or maybe she thinks that what happened wasn't so bad. What my sister's boyfriend did to me was wrong and I should probably be upset about the whole situation. I've come to forgive him for what he did. The person I can't forgive is my mom; she did nothing to help me and then lied about the whole situation.

To this day my mom and I don't have a good relationship. I live in a town close by but I rarely go see her. She always finds a way to turn a situation around and make me feel bad about something. She never takes fault for anything and if she doesn't use it, or approve it, you are wrong for doing so. It was so stressful emotionally for me that I've quit going to see her. One day I might be able to forgive her but I doubt it. I've tried and tried but I just can't do it. I get so upset with myself because I can't forgive her or even talk to her about what happened. I want to be able to move past the whole situation for my sake and the sake of my husband and my children but I just don't know how. Maybe one day I will.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kara Part 3

by Kara
(Grand Junction, Colorado, USA)

Poems I wrote to, about, and for my mom: 
I don't know if she'll ever get to read them, but they convey my feelings. The first I wrote just a few minutes ago.

Was It Me? Or Is It You?

Would you listen if I cried?
Would you see the tears behind my eyes?
Would you understand my pain?
If I lay out straight and plane?
What did I ever do?
Why didn't you want me too?
Was I really that bad?
What if I just disappeared?
Would you be happy then?
What did I ever do?
Why did you push me away?
And never care for me the same?
How could you hate me so much?
Was I never worthy of your love?
What did I ever do?
Was it me?
Or is it you?

It's not the best, but I couldn't get the idea out of my head after my boyfriend wanted to hear my whole story. He's only heard bits of it before today.

This second one I wrote a little over a year ago for one of my classes.

The Rug

The lies you weave,
Lay like a rug upon the ground.
But this rug can not cover-
Who you are.
You told me I was special.
You told me I was your baby.
Like all of it meant something.
Like what you said was true.
I don't hate you,
                                     Not any more.
But to trust you again?
That I will not do.
You say you're sorry-
You didn't mean to do it.
But this I've heard so many times.
This lie, another thread-
In the rug,
You weave upon the ground.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From NBCD

by NBCD
(California, USA)

Lil Whispers: 
I think it started when I was about 3, maybe a tad bit older. It was a guy from the neighborhood. He was always high or something. I would be outside riding my big wheels around the block. He would always come up to me and I would feel such terror! He would manage to pull me off my big wheels. I always held onto the handles so tight but he was much too strong. Sometimes he would take me to the bike trail, away from where we could be seen. He would lay down on the grass and then put me on top of him and push me up and down on him. He never opened up his pants, nor did he pull down mine. But I could feel his erection. I would tell him to stop but he never listened. Seems like it would go on forever but it was only for a little bit.

One time, he dragged me into a neighbor's backyard (their fence didn't have a door). He did the same thing to me again. I called for help and he said, "No one is home!" I still called for help. I think this was when I was a bit older and knew when to shout to protect myself. None of the neighbors came out to see what was going on. No one! That is when I learned I couldn't trust anyone! I never told my parents because he never got into my pants. Yes, it's still molestation, I know.

There were other times in my life I was forced to suck on a boy's penis. He said he would beat me up if I didn't. Thing is, his mother was right on the other side of the window (we were out in the backyard). But she never saw anything. Then this same person took me to the side of his house and I know him and another person done something to me. I just don't remember what. They even tried to get his friend's brother in on it. But I think he saw how terrified I was and said no he wasn't going to do anything. How relieved I was!

I was once a very happy little girl. After everything I went through, I was no longer able to trust anyone and became withdrawn and shy. To this day, it takes me awhile to be able to trust anyone. My parents, God love them, never knew anything and they still don't. I found out the first guy who molested me died. I don't know how long ago. I was relieved to hear that. I felt a big sigh of relief but wonder who else he might have done that to. Or was I the only one? He seemed to target only me. Maybe because I was the youngest girl on the block perhaps?

There was one other time something bad happened. I had just turned 16 several weeks prior to this incident. A guy from school I had a crush on called and wanted to hang out. Cool! I thought. We walked up the bike trail to the park. It was dark. We went on the grass. I could smell wine or some kind of alcohol on his breath. Anyway, we talked for a bit of time and then he made his move. He started fingering me. Yes, I could have stopped him then. But to be honest, I was scared. Scared that if I tried to yell or get away, it would have been worse. I didn't know how much he had drank prior to inviting me on a walk. Then he made another move, he put a condom on and went inside of me. That night, I lost my virginity. What a way to lose it! Raped by someone I HAD a crush on. What made it worse is that the next day at school, he told everyone that WE had sex. No WE did not have sex. YOU had sex. I don't know why I never reported anything to anyone. Why I never told anyone about any incident. I guess I was just too scared and didn't think anyone would believe me.

I've been married to my husband for almost 9 years now. I am 33 years old. Sometimes I still have a hard time trusting my own husband. But you know what? He understands and is patient with me. He loves me for me unconditionally. He comforts me when the memories come back. God blessed me with a great man and I am grateful. I have learned to forgive all those who did me wrong. I just wish I could forget. Sorry this is so long, but I just had to get everything out. Thanks for reading!

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Child Abuse Story From KC

by KC
(USA)

I was about 9 or 10. My sister and I were sleeping in the double bed that we shared. A friend of the family, Tom, was staying over. In the middle of the night he snuck into our room on all fours. He came over to my side of the bed and started rubbing my back and my belly. He tried to go higher and lower, but I pretended to be asleep and kept turning back and forth so he couldn't reach anything. He was breathing hard, and I wasn't sure really what was going on. I don't think he was satisfied, but I was moving so much he gave up. I swore to myself that if he went over to my sister's side of the bed I would punch him in the nose, but he didn't. I've never told anyone.

I know it's not my fault, but I've always been MAD at myself for not doing anything, because knowing and feeling are two different things. I would defend my sister, but I wasn't brave enough to defend myself.

The thought of him still, over ten years later, scares and angers me.

I think I turned out pretty well, but reading these stories I can't help but remember, and wonder how this may have affected me.

There was another incident, not with him, that was weird, but I don't want to go into it.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kayla O

by K
(Location Undisclosed)

I am a college student right now, and for safety purposes, I am going to change my name and the names of those in this disclosure.

When I was a young child, starting from the age of 2 years old until I was 8 years old, my father molested me. He also molested my sister and my cousin, the three of us, and sometimes I would have to watch. But my sister has never remembered what happened, and my cousin only remembers what happened to her. I am the only one that remembers it all.

My mother has never really cared about me, because I am her first child, and she has always loved my only sister, who is younger than me, more. But when she found out about what my father was doing to me, she only did something because she was told if she didn't she'd be reported, and she cares about mainly only herself.

When she found out about what my father was doing, my father went to jail, and then my mother started to hate me even more. At first it wasn't frequent when she would get mad at me and hit me, or throw me across the room or yell at me and call me names and stuff like that, but it got worse and more frequent.

We have always moved a lot because people would start to wonder what was going on, and my mother for the longest time would tell everyone and their friends, and my friends and our family and my sister's friends what my father did, even though it was not any of their business, except counselors.

And when we moved the first time after my father went to jail, the upstairs neighbor was allowed to babysit my sister and I on occasion, and during those times, he would chase me around the house, until he caught me, and bring me into mine and my sister's room, with just me and him in there and lock the doors so my sister and nobody else could get in there, and then he would tie me to my bed and rape me, and this happened when he would babysit us from the time I was 8 until the time I was 10. Except he knew how to make it seem like nothing had happened, because he would tie me down with something thick between my skin and the ropes so the rope burns wouldn't be there, and he put garbage bags under me so it could easily be cleaned. Plus he would force me to wash up before my mother got home.

My mother has never been very good at choosing men, so they were always nice at first, until after a year, or once she married them. Then they didn't care what they did. So my mother's boyfriend that she had when I was 8 until I was 10 would throw things around and insult us and punch things and from there it escalated to hitting my mother, with my sister and I hiding in another room, watching it all. But at least this boyfriend, I will name George, didn't physically hurt my sister or me, or sexually hurt me or my sister.

Then, when we moved to another town when I was 10, my mother met this guy she liked, who seemed okay at first, and decided to marry him. This was the thing that I feel has hurt me the most. Before she married him, she let him live with us for a while. When he lived with us, he wasn't physically violent toward us, but when he and I were alone, let's call him Henri, he would make sexual advances towards me. At first it wasn't as bad as it got, and I was scared to say anything anyways, and even if I did, I had already tried to tell my mother about the other guy and she didn't believe me, so I didn't think she would believe me about him, either. So I didn't say anything to my mother about Henri, especially since he was threatening me with doing the same stuff to my sister if I told, and so I didn't tell anyone. But at first it was just the sort of stuff my biological father did, then he raped me whenever he could. But when my mother got married to him, it went downhill from there.

He was a "Christian", so he started reciting things from the Bible when he did it, and twisting it so it would justify what he did. And he knew exactly how to make it look like it was not even happening, which wasn't too hard, because my mother was almost always drunk, and even when she wasn't, somehow it was either my fault or not happening. I couldn't take showers without being raped or sleep without being woken up to him on top of me, and he would sing Christian songs and twist it to fit whatever he desired.

My mother and Henri would be naked and making love on the couch with nothing covering them when my sister and I came home from school or it was the weekend and they would say that there was nothing wrong with what they were doing.

And my mother would also get mad at me over stupid things like the dishes and throw things at me and hit me, and kick me, basically use whatever was around her that could harm me when she got mad, and I would be out of school sometimes, but vacations were worse than school times, because there was nobody that they had to deal with for suspicions arising. So things would be worse during times off from school and I would be allowed to heal before school was back, and whatever went on during school was hidden by makeup and clothing and what-not. Even now, my biggest problem being able to cope with life is hearing Christian music or Christian verses or anything about the Bible.

Henri raped me from the time I was 10 until the time I was 13, almost 14, when I was able to officially escape from my mother's house. But when I was 13, almost 14, I was at my next-door neighbor's house and a guy who was visiting there, let's call him Cory, raped me, but I didn't call out for help because I didn't want my neighbors who lived there to feel responsible, because Cory didn't even live there. And there were two young children there and I didn't want to wake or scare them, because the youngest was sick and the whole family was tired and they are good people. What Cory did to me only happened once, but it took me by surprise. He was the only one that took me by surprise. Even to this day I can't stop thinking about it all, because it all happened for 11, almost 12 years.

My mother still doesn't care about me, still doesn't love me, and I keep wishing that I could have a family that really loves me and didn't ever hurt me the way they did, but I don't think that is going to happen. I try to stay positive and all, but it's hard. I have more going on inside my head than I let people know about, and since they don't know what goes on inside my head, they think that I am resilient and a good person and everything, but I just can't seem to see what they see. I have been in counseling since I was 8, but I do not feel like anything has gotten any better, and I do not feel like the pain has lessened or gotten easier to cope with. In fact, I think in the last 3 years it has gotten harder to deal with. I have so much that runs through my brain, that the more I try to figure out how to lessen the amount of hurt I feel inside, the more I feel like turning to something that might get rid of it.

What I do not understand is how people can sit there and try to tell me that things will get better in time, that it will get easier to deal with. I have been trying to deal with it for 17, going on 18 years now, and it does not seem to be getting any better. In fact, it feels like it is getting harder to deal with.

I feel also like everything is my fault, like somehow I could've prevented it, even though I did try, like there was something more I could've done to stop it all from happening. I know not all people are bad, and I know there are more good people than bad people, but I have a hard time letting people fully in, and not trying to push them away. I just feel like I don't deserve love or happiness, or any of that stuff, even though I do want it.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Rachael

by Rachael
(Tennessee, USA)

I am about to be seventeen years old. It has been a little over two years since I reported my abuse the second time. My uncle sexually abused me for several years. I don't remember when it started, but it ended when I was between seven and eight. My mom asked if anyone had ever touched me or made me feel uncomfortable. I told some of the truth, but was scared to come completely clean. I felt like I had done something wrong. The police believed him because my mom had been abused as a child and he claimed that I was a mouthpiece trying to get justice for her. Nothing happened, except my mom moved my brother and me to another city.

I kept the secret for seven years.

My mom thought that it only happened once. That's what everyone thought. I was looking over my shoulder, scared of my friends' fathers and scared of male teachers. I tried to look happy so that I wouldn't have to tell. My uncle never told me not to tell, but I felt that I had done something wrong. My freshman year in high school, I went to the guidance counselor, but she didn't know what to do since it was such a long time ago. I got sent to therapy and it changed my life. But because nothing happened after my eighth birthday, nothing can be done.

I don't want anyone else to go thru what I went thru. If a kid says something sexual in nature happened with an adult, the kid isn't making it up. Yet people want to scoop it under the rug.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Leah B

by Leah B
(Arkansas, USA)

It is so sad: 
When I was three years old I was sexually abused by a neighbor. I did not know at the time I was being abused until my mom asked me those dreadful questions. Has anyone hurt you? It's okay, you can tell me. I promise I won't tell anyone else. I just remember my dad at midnight taking me to the emergency room and doctors and nurses all around me doing what they had to do. I felt so embarrassed. I could not believe what had happened to me. I just wanted it to stop and to stop right then. I cried myself to sleep that night and I will never ever forget that night.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Sofia

by Sofia
(Tamil Nadu, India)

I am Sofia and I am now 21. After reading the stories posted here I feel that these were much more than what I faced. I grew up in a home for children from the age of 6 to 14. After my mother's death, my father got married to another woman and he gave me to the home. The warden of the home had full control of the students. So whatever may be the problem it should be reported to him. Even for simple mistakes he would ask us to turn to a wall and ask us to pull our skirt up exposing our buttocks and he would cane us with all his might. It is a home for boys as well as girls. So it is a very humiliating punishment. The female warden also does the same thing.

One day the warden called me to his room. I went inside thinking that he is going to give the same punishment but this time he talked so softly and asked whether my skin under my underwear is paining or not. He slowly got his fingers under it. I was standing simply and didn't restrict it. He made me to undress and asked me to remove his dress also. He then pushed me to the bed and raped me. I don't know why I didn't shout or ask for help. After coming out of the home I came to know that almost all girls have been raped by him. Many a times the punishment was to stand naked and do erotic actions in front of boys. We were also shown porn movies which we watched along with boys.

Now I am far from that place and heard that the home was closed.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Trudy

by Trudy
(USA)

Don't know what to do: 
My mom works at night every other week. My sister and me are home lots of time with my stepfather. I was only 6 when she married him. I think this all started a couple years ago. Or maybe longer but I was too young to realize what he was doing. Now I'm almost 13 and my sister is almost 10, and it gets very humiliating.

He walks right in on me and my sister when we are naked and sometimes does it even when my mom is at home. I told her a couple times but she thinks I am being silly and insists he doesn't do it on purpose. At night he goes about the house in his underwear even when my mom is home.

He has come in the bathroom many times when I'm in the tub or shower, supposedly to get something out of the closet or medicine drawer. He does the same with my sister and never fixes the door lock that has been broken for a couple years. I didn't mind it when I was younger, I suppose, but now I am getting breasts and am very embarrassed when he sees me naked. He pretends he doesn't look at us, but I see him staring at me and my sister a lot. My sister isn't as shy as I am and I don't think she is that embarrassed yet.

We have both seen him naked many times and most of the time it's when my mom is at work. He has never touched me or tried to molest me, but I don't like him seeing me naked and I don't like to see him naked. He never touches my sister either; I already asked her if he did.

My mom doesn't understand how he does things to embarrass me, and I keep asking her to fix the lock on the bathroom door. Sometimes I put the hamper in front of the door, but he just pushes it out of the way when he comes in. Sometimes he stays and tries to talk to me, and I know he is looking at my privates and he just smiles at me.

Lately when he is in his bathrobe, both me and my sister can see he doesn't have any underwear on and can see his penis. My mom saw his robe open last month but just told him to close it.

I stopped going into my mom's bedroom a long time ago because he sleeps naked all the time. He is nice to us except for trying to see us naked. I am so afraid every time I'm getting dressed or in the bathroom. He has even walked in when me or my sister were on the toilet.

My mom thinks I am paranoid about it, but she doesn't know how humiliating it is for me. She said she spoke to him about it, but he told her he doesn't know what I'm talking about and he never does it purposely. I know he is lying, but my mom believes him.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Trudy" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed30

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

Child Abuse: 
My friend from the past year or so has been getting beat by his father. He just came out and told police after his father violently threw him across the room and threw a 2 liter of pop at his head. The CPS was called but no one is doing a thing about it. They just left him there with his father.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Holly

by Holly
(Wales, United Kingdom)

My mother hurt me soo bad: 
From the time I was born, my mother has never wanted me. She told me I was a big mistake and she would do anything to get rid of me. By the time I was two, she stood there and let her boyfriend rape me and made my sister sit in a corner and watch.

As I turned three, she shaved all my hair off and left clumps of it there. She made people think I had cancer...all of her boyfriends have done at least something to me.

I turned 7, and she had got married to a man named Ian. He was a horrible man. He hit me and made bruises on me and they would talk about sex in front of me. He would tell me if I told anyone he would batter me.

One day I couldn't take it anymore. I told my gran. She took me from my mother, but a year later I had moved back in with her. She said she had stopped seeing Ian and that I was her priority. But that soon changed. Before I knew it, she had kicked me out. I was only eight. I remember begging her and I cried and cried. I was asking her, "Please could you just choose me this once." She looked me in the face and said, "I can't."

From that day forward I have hated her. I have no feelings for her whatsoever because I went through 2 years of seeing a physiatrist and every day of my life I feel like dying. I go to sleep and hope to never wake up. She has ruined my life.

I find it so hard to trust anyone. The only people I can trust are my boyfriend and my gran...people don't realise what they are doing to their children. They only think about themselves and their feelings...well I'm 15 and I hate what I have been through. I would never wish it on anyone. Never.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Jon1

by Jon
(Location Undisclosed)

I was born to someone who did not want me. I was given up for adoption when I was 1 week old. Two guys (I will call them Ryan and Bryan) adopted me. I know it was not because they loved me.

From before I can remember we all slept in the same king size bed. It was me, Ryan, Bryan and my brother Steven, who was also adopted. And we were always very open about sexuality. Ryan and Bryan would have sex while Steven and I were in the bed. We were never allowed as children to be alone. We were always with one of them. This was mainly so we could be "exercising". What they meant by exercising was having something up our bottoms at all time. This is was to prepare me for the big game. This happened when I was 7. Ryan and Bryan both took turns anally raping Steven and myself. It was the most horrible thing that has ever happened.

One day when I was 13 we were out at the store and I started to bleed from my backside and a cashier called 911 because she thought I needed to go to the hospital. Ryan who was with me grabbed me and threw me in the car. The police followed us to the house. I now live with a lovely Christian family and am trying to work on my issues.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From K C

by K.C.
(Colorado, USA)

When I was 5 or 6 my parents got divorced. I don't remember much of my real father. I just remember a lot of yelling when he was around.

For the next year or so, we just lived by ourselves, my mom, my older sister, and I. The only father figure I had was my papa. He was always there and was always laughing and playing with us.

My mother got re-married when I was around 7. I was so happy. It made me happy to see that my mother was happy and that we had a dad again.

I don't remember exactly when the abuse started but I do remember one time when I was seven and my step-father picked me up and threw me across our living room. I got up and crawled to my room. All I remember is just being so scared that he would come and hit me again.

When I was 8, the sexual abuse started. I remember him coming into our family room where all of us kids were sleeping that night, my sister, my two stepsisters, and me He told me to go under the blanket and stick my hand out because we were going to play a game. Me being 8, I didn't know any better. I was just happy that my new dad was playing with me.

For seven years, this went on and on and on. He would continue to hit me sometimes. I recall once when he pulled me by my hair off my bunk bed. Whenever he would try to touch me I would say I was tired or that my stomach hurt and that worked for a while, until he figured out that I just was trying to make an excuse to get out of it.

My "dad" is a truck driver and one of us girls used to go out on the truck with him. Sometimes two of us might go. But, it didn't matter if someone was there or not, he would still try things with me. I remember one time when I was out on the truck with him and my sister, and he made me perform oral sex on him. When I grew into my teenage years it seemed to get worse because I understood what was going on. I just have such vivid memories that just hurt every time I think about them.

During all of it, I remember thinking that I was lying to my mother, my sister, and myself. I felt like a disappointment to everyone. My older sister once asked me if my dad had ever touched me before, because she said that she saw signs that he had. I told her no. He had always told me that if I told anyone that he would go to jail and that our family would fall apart. I almost told my mom once but she told me that he was her knight in shining armor and I just couldn't tell her that her knight was a rapist.

He told me the reason he did it was that he loved me and that that is what people do when they love each other and that I was his favorite. I told him that only moms and dads are supposed to do that with each other and that he wasn't supposed to have favorites. Countless times, he told me he was going to stop, and I believed him every time, but he just kept coming back and doing it repeatedly. When I was younger, I would look at myself in the mirror and hate myself because I was ugly and I thought something was wrong with me. In my teenage years, I developed self-esteem issues, depression, abandonment issues, and trust issues. When I was 15 the abuse finally ended somewhere around Christmas time.

When I got into my teens we would all drink as a family and I was like the family drunk. I mean I wouldn't be like so drunk I wouldn't remember anything but I would drink more than everyone else would. Whenever we would drink, he would help me get in my pajamas and he told my sisters that they couldn't help. He would have sex with me every time I got drunk. When I got into my teenage years I realized that I liked sex, but I even told him that I didn't want to do it with him and that it wasn't right. He would sometimes tell me that I wanted it and that he knew I wanted it. When I got older I would think of cutting myself or killing myself because it would be easier on me if I just wasn't there. He said that he was just teaching me and I told him I didn't want him to teach me. I once told him, for the millionth time, I didn't want to do this. His response was why? And I told him, because I know I will have problems when I am older and what will happen when I have a boyfriend? I always had a fear that if I had a boyfriend and we would get "close" that I would think of my "dad" when he would do that to me.

Maybe a year ago I told someone everything for the first time. Michael. He told me he had been sexually abused by his grandfather so he knew how hard it was to live with a secret like that. He was twelve years older than me and he lives in Texas so I thought it was safe to tell him. I was right, it was, because no one else ever found out about it. After a while, Michael told me that he was in love with me. I am very open-minded and thought ok just because he is twelve years older doesn't mean anything. I did many things with him that I am not proud of. But, he was like a safety blanket for me, I could tell him anything and everything, he was always there.

One day my sister and I were talking about Michael and how she didn't like him and didn't think he was a safe person to talk to and that she wanted me to stop. She knew that his grandfather had molested him. I told her that she didn't know how similar we were, and she said oh really, so you have been raped? I just shook my head. She asked who did it, because she knew I was lying. I told her it was our "dad". She said she had known and that she would take me to live with her. I didn't know what to do. She told me I needed to tell my mom but I was scared to. I didn't know how she would react. I told her and she started to cry and I started to cry, then I went to my sister's house that night and my mom told me she would talk to him about it, and she did. She talked to him and brought me home and the next day my sister came to get me and my mom told her that we needed to solve this problem within the family.

After that, my sister and my mom no longer talked. My mom asked me if I wanted him to leave. I told her no, because I didn't want my little sisters to grow up without a dad like I had to. My mother is still in a relationship with him, and not just a marriage relationship, but a sexual relationship too! She said that she didn't know what to do and that she would understand if I hate her, and I do in a way.

She says she believes me but she is disappointed in me for not telling her about it. I don't get it. About two months ago, my mom told me I wasn't allowed to talk to Michael anymore and I broke down and told her everything that happened between us. I continued to be depressed but my mom just ignored it as if it was nothing. A week ago my mom finally took me to the doctor and got me diagnosed with depression and now I am taking anti-depression pills and I can't cry, which sucks.

Just last Saturday I told my best friend everything and she told me I needed to leave this house and I told her I don't know where to go. All through my abuse I never believed in God because I asked Him to stop so many times and it just felt like He was ignoring me. Because of my best friend I started to believe in God because he gave me her and without her I would be dead right now.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Helena M

by Helena M
(Calgary, Alberta, Canada)

I am now 24 turning 25 years old. I grew as a tom-boy in an isolated community far up north. As far as I can remember, I was 4 or 5 years old when I started becoming sexually abused by people I thought were my friends (2 boys who were 4 years older than me). I could remember being forced to watch porn and do the things the girls on TV would do. This all carried on until I was 14 or 15 years old. When I finally started hanging out with girls in high school, it did not happen as often because I wasn't hanging out with the boys as much, though it would happen every now and then.

From grade 10 and on, I became a very promiscuous girl. I would go out with all sorts of guys just for the fun of it and to say, "I went out with this many guys so far." I never really had feelings for any of them. They were just another guy on my list. Then I got into smoking drugs and drinking heavily. There would be nights I wouldn't remember anything because I just got so high.

I got into a two-year college diploma program in 2004. I did well in the first semester, then I lost sight of my overall goal and got back into the heavy drinking again. I remember the one week I drank every night and never went to school. It was that week I had a one-night stand with a total stranger, and 1 month later I found out I was pregnant from a person who I didn't even know his last name. I only knew what he looked like. This was just before spring break. I decided to abort the baby during my spring break and did so before I returned back to school.

Now I live far, far away from home in a relationship. It's been 4 years now since I moved away from home and since I've been in this relationship. This man I am with knows of my past abuse and has been by my side through all my crying. He loves me unconditionally regardless of the fact that I can't even trust him or believe a word he says. I need help with not letting this abuse affect my relationship.

My last Christmas at home I confronted one of the two boys who are now all grown up. I spoke to the one with a family of his own: 1 girl, one boy. I now have closure for this guy because he apologized to me for what he did all those years ago. I told him never to let this happen to his girl because it affected every part of my life growing up.

The other guy lives in the same city as I do and I have never confronted him. I always worry that I'll run into him and not know what to do. I am always looking over my shoulder every time I go out. It is he I haven't confronted and why I think I cannot close this horrible part of my life. I've taken counselling for this and was told if I wrote letters to him just to vent, it would make me feel better and it has but I don't feel the closure I have with the other guy.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Kayla O Part 2

by K
(Location Undisclosed)

Secretly Deeply Hurting: 
To this day, I still have a very hard time dealing with Christian-related things, and sometimes other things bring flashbacks. Not to mention I have a hard time believing that I am a good person.

Everyone around me keeps telling me that I am a good person and I am very resilient, but I just don't see what they see. And I feel like there had to have been something more that I could've done to prevent or stop this stuff, even though I tried whatever was safe enough to try to escape and stop it.

People think how can I go through all of that stuff and still seem so close to normal, but what they don't realize is that I hurt so bad inside. I have more running through my brain that I choose not to show to the world so they don't have to deal with it, but some things I can't keep secret. And I know it isn't good to keep such bad secrets, but I don't want people to know how badly I am hurting inside.

People keep telling me that in time things will get easier to cope with and the pain will lessen, but I have been trying to cope with stuff like this for 17 going on 18 years, since it all started at the age of 2 years, and the pain only seems to be intensifying, and getting harder to cope with. I have been in counseling since I was 8 years old, but this hope people keep telling me to hold onto is getting harder to hold onto, and is getting harder to believe in.

I know not everyone is bad, and I know that there are more good people than bad, but I am having a hard time getting over my past. And there are so many people who tell me that the past is in the past and I should just get over it and move on with my life, but the harder I try to get over it and move on, the harder it is to do just that. I try so hard to be everything everyone thinks I should be, but the harder I try to be what everyone wants me to be, the more I feel like a failure and the more I feel like I am burying myself for the sake of the modern-day fast-paced world, this world that needs to slow down and smell the roses. I just think there is so much more this whole world could band together to fix, but choose to just put a veil over.

It is very hard for me to even force myself out of bed every day, and the more time that passes, the harder it gets, except nobody seems to notice how hard it is for me. They just think that I am doing okay, that I will be okay, but not everything is always okay, not everything always turns out okay, all hunky-dorey, and a lot of people don't seem to take everything in. I have so much hurt inside me that is deeper than anyone will ever be able to comprehend, that just seems to be getting deeper and more painful every day.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Greg

by Greg
(Colorado, USA)

I'm a 29-year-old male who is still hurting. My mom had me when she was 17 and I never knew my father. Before I was 4 we lived with my grandma and things were O.K. but then she met Bill who had a 7-year-old and we moved away from where my grandma and other family members were. I also have 2 younger half brothers who were born when I was 5.

My first real memory with Bill was in our new house in Austin, Texas. My step-brother and I were playing in the house and we knocked over something and broke it. My innocence was lost that night. Bill was screaming at us and I could see evil in his eyes. Ken, my step-brother had seen this before and knew what was coming. He made me sit on the couch while Ken stripped and was beaten with a belt for what seemed like forever. Then it was my turn. I fought and screamed like any 5-year-old. He grabbed the back of my neck and slammed me into the wall and gave me the first of many beatings throughout my childhood, but this is the one that haunts me in my nightmares. My mother, who I adored, watched this happen and didn't stop it.

Soon after this, while I still had scars and welts from the first beating, my step-brother Ken and I were playing and we did something that pissed Bill off. I remember that I felt I was blameless in some way and cried and protested that I didn't do anything wrong. This was the wrong thing to do with Bill, and made the beating even worse. This time he beat me until I passed out, and according to my step-brother who had to watch, he continued beating me after I passed out. After this time I did as I was told without question, and whether I did something wrong or not, I would take my beating up until age 12.

I remember during these years I was always in pain and my butt, small of my back and backs of my legs always had bruises or welts on them. It became normal and I just accepted it. You think someone would have noticed what my step-brother and I were going through, but neither one of us remember anyone questioning us, and Bill knew just where to beat us.

When I was 12 and my step-brother 14 and my half-brothers were 7, I guess my mom decided that the cycle had to stop. My half-brothers had never got a beating up until this point but were still forced to watch us get our beatings. We had all gone to the lake to go swimming and were very late getting home which was normal but we were even later than normal and this put Bill into a rage. Things went like they always did, first Ken, then me, but then all hell broke loose. My half-brother Jake was to be next but my mother told him no and started fighting with him and he smacked her hard and she flew across the room. She told him to get out and he left. He was out of the house for good and we only saw him from time to time until he died from liver cancer when I was 17.

This incident ended the abuse for me and my step-brother and prevented my half-brothers from getting beat, but I am still angry with my mother for not sticking up for me or my step-brother. To her, it was O.K. for Bill to beat us black and blue and beat us to the point that we passed out but it wasn't O.K. for him to do this to my two younger siblings? Does she love them more than us?? Were we not worth the same as them? I've dealt with these questions ever since that day. I have asked her these questions, and all she can say is sorry. Well Mom, that's not good enough. I know you were in a bad situation but you allowed this to happen to me and your allowing it to happen was condoning it. I can't get myself to the point to forgive her. It is just too much for me to handle.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Caleb

by Caleb
(Tennessee, USA)

This is not an easy thing to do for me especially since i'm about to bear my soul on a website so i ask for a little compassion and empathy.

So, i've been physically, verbally, and emotionally abused by my dad and my stepdad. It started with my dad when i was about 15 or 16 because he wanted me to play football in high school and i couldn't do it because the previous year at my middle school i was walking home and i was grabbed and raped and severly beaten up and left on the ground. I never found out who it was and i never saw his face. So with that in mind, i could not play football at my high school because of that reason and i had just started a new school and everyone hated me and i was made fun of and harrassed all the time about being gay and there were jokes being told in the locker room and everybody just went out of there way to beat the hell out of me but this wasn't the first time because back in about 5th or 6th grade i was harrassed alot and got into 2 fights and got beaten up pretty bad both times so being shoved into a wall by my dad wasn't the first time i had experienced someone's anger and wrath. My dad and me continued to have a bad relationship throughout my 16th year and i became more rebellious and severely depressed. During my 16th year, i met a guy at my school and he was the first friend i made after being in high school for 2 years and we became friends and one day he invited me over and molested me and made me watch porn with him. I continued to slide into depression and i began to hate everything. I started smoking weed and drinking alot. I acted out at home alot more because of my parents being divorced i had to travel back and forth between houses and it was like 2 different atmospheres. At my dads there was alot of tension and anxiety. My stepmom never talked to me. She suffers from bipolar. The only time i talked to my dad is when i was lashing out at him for divorcing my mom when i was just 2 years old and i blamed myself. At my mom's house everything was happy and loving. My mom and stepdad were wealthy so we lived in a nice neighborhood but i was ignored and left behind for my 2 younger siblings who got all the attention so i spent most of the time in my room crying and writing about how much i hated my life. I began to develop a severe hatred for my mom because she had basically abandoned me after the divorce along with my dad because i almost never saw him and i felt like my mom was more worried about her happiness than taking care of me. When i was about 17, my stepdad hit me for the first time and he along with my dad yelled at me saying awful things to me like "your not a good person" "you suck" "f**k you" "no wonder you don't have any friends". Things like that all the time. While my mom just stood there and watched it happen. In that same year, my dad became alot more agressive towards me, shoving me and punching me and pushing me into walls along with my stepdad. At the time i was taking ambien for insomnia and ptsd. I couldn't take it anymore and i downed a whole bunch of them i can't even remember how many and i just wanted to die. I oded. My dad found me and put me in the shower and i regained consciousness. I was extremely sad and lonely and just hurting so bad. During my 18th year, i attempted suicide at least 5 or 6 more times. Once more by taking antidepressants and the other times by putting a rope around my neck and just pulling as hard as i could but eventually my arms would get tired and i had to stop.

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Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Allie

by Allie
(USA)

I have two younger sisters. Now they're 12 and 9. I'm 15. About 5 years ago my mom and dad divorced. I was 10 at the time. My sisters were 7 and 4. They didn't understand what was going on with my mom and dad, and from then on we all grew really close to each other.

Not too long after that my mom brought a guy home. He was really nice to me and my sisters at first. He would buy us new toys and take us to fun places, and all of us trusted him. At the time my mom was working two jobs so she could pay for the bills. So her boyfriend would pick me and my sisters up from school and stay with us until 11 at night sometimes. That's when things really started to go downhill.

We had a little toy doctor's kit. We loved pretending to be doctors. One day my mom's boyfriend told us he wanted to show us a new way to play. We all agreed to it because we thought it would be fun. When we did, he pretended to be the doctor and we had to be the patients. He called me into the room first and instructed me to lay down on the bed and close my eyes. I did. That day I was wearing a dress. He pushed it up to the point where my panties were showing. Then told me I had to take them off. That's when I told him we didn't want to play anymore. He said we had to, then pushed me back onto the bed, held me there, and put one of his hands down my panties and he kept telling me we were still playing. I guess he was trying to convince me but it wasn't working. When he tried to put one of his fingers inside of me I basically screamed at the top of my lungs because of the pain, he ended up stopping because it was scaring my sisters (they were still outside the door).

I was scared out of my mind and never told my mom about it. Now over the same year things were just getting worse. He started getting really touchy feely with me. When I was 11 he forced me to perform oral sex on him in the shower for the first time. It happened many times after that in various places. He always told me this: "It's just a game. Don't tell anyone if you don't want me to play with your sisters too."

When I turned 12 the physical abuse was getting worse. He had me, as well as my sisters, scared to even come home from school every day. He would hit, push, and even kick us at times, whether we did something wrong or not. It all depended on his mood that day. If we knew something bad happened with him, we would try to avoid him. If that didn't work, I would always try to protect my sisters. They meant everything to me at this point.

My 13th year was by far the worst year of my life. He proposed to my mom, but luckily they couldn't afford to have a wedding, so they decided to wait until they could. But the really bad thing coming out of this was that we had to move in with him. His house, his rules. It was horrible. Every day I would go to bed praying that I wouldn't wake up the next morning. The abuse got so bad that I ended up having to wear long sleeves in the summer just to make sure my mom didn't find out. My second youngest sister's situation was getting worse also.

She was now 10, as I was when he first started sexually abusing me. She was getting the stares and the unnecessary touches. So I started keeping a close eye on her, and telling her to stay close to me when we were home alone with him. She understood completely but it really hurt me when I couldn't protect her. Soon he started doing the same things to her as he had done to me. He still came to me just as often but things with him started to get more painful.

He started putting things inside of me, and whenever I would cry because of pain, he would hit me, and tell me to shut up or he would bring my youngest sister in and make me watch him do things to her. I was so scared, and soon I would just start thinking about other things while he was hurting me. Sometimes I even fell asleep, which I was so grateful for.

Last year, exactly a week after my 14th birthday, he raped me. My mom was at work, my sister's were sleeping, and I was coming home from a night out with my boyfriend. We had set it up perfectly because he was going to be out of town over my birthday, so we agreed that the next Friday we would go out to the movies. When I got home, my mom's, still "fiancé" was furious. My mom forgot to tell him about my plans so he thought I had just snuck out. When he was sure my boyfriend had left, he knocked me to the floor and dragged me into my mom's and his bedroom. I fought him for a while, but that was getting me nowhere, and it seemed to just be making it worse. So that's where I was raped. Luckily I blacked out after a while...I'm happy for that because it hurt so much.

Maybe like 2 days later, I told my boyfriend. He was so mad that if I had let him, he would have gone over and handled him himself. But I convinced him not too. He comforted me and told me he would take me to see a doctor if I wanted. I really wanted to tell my mom though, because obviously I didn't want this happening to my sister either. I had let it carry on long enough and got my second youngest sister caught up in it too. I felt guilty and disgusting for ever letting this go any farther than the day we agreed to play doctor with him.

I ended up telling my mom. She broke up with this no good scum bag, called the cops, and now he's behind bars. :)

After all of this I felt like I had a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. I was so happy I came forward. And now that I'm sharing my story I feel even better. This experience has made me a stronger person. Although I do have to say while I was writing this I had to stop every so often to let out a few tears thinking about all that happened to me. Only because I've always tried to avoid thinking about these horrible experiences. But now that I look back at it, I think it's made me a better person.

Knowing that sharing my story could possibly get someone to come forward about abuse, if they haven't already makes me feel absolutely wonderful inside!

I thank everyone on this site for letting me share my story. ♥♥♥

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Maddy

by Maddy
(Indonesia)

I never had a chance to tell my story to anyone and I am happy to write it here. I don't know when it started, may be when I was 7 or 8. We moved to a new place and there were too many neighbours in that place. It was too crowded. I and my brother were very close and we always had great time. I did not have many friends in that place so I always played with my brother. At that time one of neighbour as old as my brother started talking to me. My brother got new friends and he always went out and asked me to cover up for him just in case Mom is early. I always did that. I don't remember being unhappy at all. It was when this neighbour came to me and told me that my brother asked him to take care of me. I was happy I got someone to play.

Initially he always played with me and I called him brother. He was 15 or 17, I don't remember. When my brother was at home we all played together. He was very close to my brother. Then one day he said we will play new game and then took me into my room. He closed the doors and started counting. He said if he finds me I would get punishment. I thought it was fun. Then I got caught and he told me I got caught because of my skirt and took it off. I was scared and ran again when he started counting. Eventually he took me down naked. Then pinned me down on my bed. I don't know and don't remember anything from then.

Next I remember is that my mom was waking me up. I don't know who put my clothes on and washed me. I remember soap smell was fresh on me. I told my mom what all I could, that he tried to pull off my skirts and all. I don't remember if I was vague or my mom was tired but she did not believe me. That was the last time I spoke about this.

He raped me many times. I still have certain fresh memories. Even before I realized what he did to me. He left the place and I was left alone.

Next incident was my cousin. She was a girl too, then why did she do that thing to me. Thank goodness it was only once in my grandmother's place. I stopped going to visit anyone from then on. I had to keep myself safe. There were many, too many doubts in my tiny brain.

Holidays were worst. No friends, no summer classes as we could not afford them. I was just stuck up in my room and my thoughts got even worse. I used to stare up at the sky and out of windows for months. I tried to draw and other things but still left me with a lot of time. I played and replayed all the incidents, closed myself and locked her up. Even today I don't like holidays, they are so blue. I like my brain filled with anything else other than these thoughts.

Later I hurt myself because I hated my body. I pinned it and burnt it. I distanced myself from everyone. My mom, Dad and even my brother. I always wondered why I was never asked, even though I was literally screaming. Can't anyone see that I am suffering and fighting a war. I had to get through the day with all these crazy thoughts in my head. I was a weirdo and I was a loner at an age of 12. I should act like normal people. That was all that went through my mind. I laughed and played but in the end I ended up crying at night. My grades went low. As a shy girl is easy to pick on. Certain guys tried to tease me in all the possible ways. I then realized maybe I was way too obvious. People pick on weak ones. I wasn't strong but acted like one. All through the day with my walls so high. I did not laugh too much and never cried. I later realized that I became numb. I was just frozen, unable to look back and afraid to move forward. Just stuck in a place.

I tried to suicide, tried to have drugs. They worsened and left more wounds. My family doesn't know any of these. I still can't control my anger towards that guy who did me so wrong. I know he must be living happy somewhere. My cousin who took advantage of me is happily married. I am now 20 stuck up here and not knowing where to go. I see him everywhere and in everyone. The situation is a bit better now. I got few friends who help me to express and all. I am still scared of men though. Have no memories of childhood except these flashes. Maybe my whole life till now is stuck in those flashes. I just can't forgive him.

But recently a crazy thought seems to engulf me. I want to meet that guy who raped me. Who played with me and gave me punishment. I want to see if he is married. If yes, tell his wife. I don't know if it's good idea or not but I still want to hunt him down. I want to punish him so badly. I just don't care what's going to happen to me but I want him f**king dead. Hope angels are listening to me. Sorry it was a long story. It still seems incomplete for me. Thanks for this site.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Dan1

by Dan
(Northern California, USA)

I first want to thank you Darlene for having a website where we can all write down our thoughts of what happened to us victims so that we can get some of the weight off of our shoulders...my story is a little different from the ones I've read in this website.

My story starts when I was 7 years old. My mom had a friend that would drop off her 3-year-old son at our house so that my mom could babysit him while my mom's friend worked her nightshift. I really enjoyed him being with us. I would help my mom take care of him. I played with him a lot and I even tried to show him how to play the Sega. I admired him a lot. He always made me laugh. He would even grab the 2nd controller of the Sega and say he was helping kick butt in the video game. My mom babysat him 4 days a week: Mon - Thur. By the time I was 9 and he was 5, I began calling him my little friend. We understood each other a lot and I was glad he was my friend, especially since there wasn't any kids in the neighborhood for me to meet or play with.

My mom still took care of him up to the time he was 7 years old and I was 11. By that time we were more than friends, we were partners in crime. Even though he was a little kid, he was always there for me and I was there for him through good times and bad times. We weren't bad kids I would say, but we did do typical boy things like egg houses on Halloween, play ding dong ditch, picking fights with other boys our age, and even secretly taking a cigarette from my dad and going behind the shed to smoke it and see what it was like. He looked up to me a lot and I did the best I could to be a good friend.

We bonded a lot. Both our parents were glad we got along well. There were times when he even took the blame for something that I did. I also started doing the same for him. For awhile I was the one taking care of him when his mom would drop him off at my house because he would always hang out with me. Things were great. But something happened one day that I never in my young innocent mind thought would happen.

One day my little friend and I were riding our bikes around the neighborhood. We turned into a corner and I saw something on the ground right off the curve. I picked it up and my little friend was right next to me. We look at the content it had on it. It was a pornographic VHS box with the video still in it. We both knew well what it was too. We were both more excited about it because of the fact that it was the first pornographic material we've seen up close. We both agreed on not to tell anyone we had this for we would get in trouble if we were caught watching it. We both raced home and somehow managed to get it into my room. I locked my door and played the movie. We were both thrilled and we even felt "cool". We would watch it every time he came over, and I would hide it in my Pokemon themed room when he was gone. But I think we watched it a little more than we should have.

After a couple weeks we started getting curious and wanted to feel what it was like. So we decided to "experiment" with each other. We started to do small things like showing each other our private parts which soon led to us touching them. We didn't think anything at first. We would just laugh and continue on. Eventually it led us to the part where we both took off our pants and underwear and started to copy sexual acts from the movie. This went on for about 2 months. I always assumed that this was something all boys did eventually at least once in their life. All that ended that same year when my little friend and his family moved out of the Bay Area. I didn't see him a lot then. Maybe once or twice every other month when they would stop by. Once I didn't see him for a whole year.

A few years later I was in the 9th grade and I had my first health class. We learned about what sexual abuse was. I remember that day I went home locked myself in my room and cried badly while I called myself a rapist because of what I did with my little friend when I was younger. I felt dirty, I felt guilty, and I felt like a criminal. The more I would learn about sexual abuse and how it affects people the more horrible I would feel. During my mid and late teen years I would see my little friend now and then. I couldn't look at him in the eye a lot because I was so ashamed. I always wanted to talk to him about what we did when we were kids because I want to know if he's ok, but I'm too scared to bring it up. Or he might not even want to talk about it. We never quite talked about what we did when we were kids neither. I hated myself for what I did and I do not blame my little friend for willingly participating in the acts we did. I always told myself that it was my fault for letting those acts happen. I was the oldest one; I should have known better.

Today I am 20 years old and I still feel bad for what I did as a child. My little friend is not so little no more. He's now 16. And I saw him 4 month ago when he came to my house with his mom. There was not one time when I did not pray to god for forgiveness for what I did. When we were outside we talked about how long we knew each other and he asked me if we were related. I told him we weren't. He replied by saying, "Whether or not we are, I see you as my big brother." I felt like crying. That really honored me. I would hope that my friend would forgive me if I ever got the guts to ask him. Even if he did forgive me, I don't think I'd be able to forgive myself. I want to talk to him about what we did because I don't want him to ever feel like a victim, but I am too scared and ashamed to bring that up. I don't know what to do.

Thank You

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Child Abuse Story From Carrie

by Carrie
( Ireland)

I guess I was never going to have a good start in life. My dad was 30 years older than my mum. She was still like a baby when they married. My mum grew up in a children's home where she was abused and raped by priests.

I don't really remember when the abuse started really, ever since I can remember. At first I didn't notice what it was. When my dad showed me his private parts I was shocked. I thought it was funny and even laughed, he had done it in such a normal manor.

After awhile he started to sneak into my room at night where he would start fondling me. He told me it would be our secret, that it would make me special from the others. I guess when he realised I wasn't going to tell he started selling me out to people he knew, including my half brother who was 16 then. When they started to rape me I knew it was wrong cause it hurt so much. I still didn't say a word, and then when I was 7 I was taken into care, only to be sent home because the staff couldn't handle my behaviour. I was a scared wild child who had never been anywhere but my house so I ran away. I lashed out at everyone until they were scared of me.

When I was sent home, my dad was still there and things went back to the way they were with him, but they changed with my mum. It was like she couldn't cope with having her other children in care so she started drinking a lot, which gave my dad and his friends more access. Things got really bad and I couldn't take it anymore. The abuse, my mum drinking, their fighting, so I started cutting. I didn't know what it was I was doing. I was only 8. My mum was pregnant again so had to give up drinking, but that didn't make things better.

I went back into care at 9, but wasn't there long as my dad was able to keep kidnapping me. Finally when I was 10, I was taken into care for good, but it was worse. I moved from place to place, still being abused by people. I even got pregnant once after been raped but I miscarried. I lost it then and kept trying to kill myself. I was then diagnosed with PTSD and was sent to a mental hospital after trying to kill myself 5 times.

Since then, I have been out of hospital for a year but I did try to commit suicide again 2 months after I got out. Every day is hard, even just getting out of the bed but I know I have to keep going and not let them win. I'm bringing my dad to court and hopefully he will never get out of jail and my story will have a happy ending.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Katie C

by Katie C
(Virginia, USA)

My two brothers: 
This happened I think about 4 years ago in 2005. I was 8 years old and I was pretty smart. I was very very close to my family, especially my siblings. One of my brothers was always mean to me but I just took it in day after day.

But then one day in January to be exact, it snowed and we didn't have school that day. My dad had to work. My stepmom, who was a teacher, just had to work half of the day. My sister, who was old enough to drive, went to see her boyfriend. So I think it was around 11 o'clock and my 2 brothers were playing dominos. I was just laying on the bed watching. After a minute or so one whispered to the other and I didn't know what they were saying. Then out of nowhere, the older one starts to pull down my pants and starts fingering me. At the time I didn't know what that was. It felt funny but good. He was rubbing really hard and I started to cry and he told me to shut up. So I just lay there trying not to cry. I looked over at my other brother and he was just laughing. This went on for about a week and then it stopped. I have NEVER told anyone this, not even my bestest friend, who I trust with all my heart.

I'm now 13 and have a boyfriend. The other day he asked me why I didn't want to go farther than make out with him and asked me what was wrong. He wanted to know if I have been abused before.

I am not sure what to tell him. I don't know if I should say, 'cause I didn't want to', or say, 'cause I was sexual abused when I was younger.' I am scared by putting this info on this website but I needed to get this off my chest.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING MY STORY!

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Vi Part 3

by Vi
(Maryland, USA)

I am sorry-L: 
Growing up I was abused physically, emotionally until the age of 15 when I decided that enough was enough and move on to a little better space. However the unhappy memories or the lack of continues to affect my life as I turn 53. I have my issues but I am writing this to say that I am sorry to a little 4 year old boy in Baltimore that I sexually abused when I was about 7.

I don't remember his name however he was a playmate who I used to fondle while playing. I don't think it happened to many times but 1 time is too many and I pray that I haven't destroyed his life as a result of it. So I am here to say that I am totally sorry to the little boy that lived in Baltimore, Md in the 1960's. I think your name is "James"

I didn't mean to hurt you and I suspect that I too was abused by someone in my life sexually to make me do such a terrible thing to you, however this is no excuse for my behavior and you will never know how bad I feel about it. As a 7 year old, I didn't understand why and what I was doing. I can never say "I am sorry" enough and I hope that you have been able to live a good life.

Because of the abuses I experience and the abuse I did to you, I never had children because I didn't want to abuse anyone else.

My life has been full of suicide attempts, failed relationships, marriage and loneliness. I am not writing this to make myself feel better but I hope if you are reading this that it helps you feel better and to realize that what I did "was not your fault".

James, I am sorry from L (the little girl/now adult) who was your friend.

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Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From MC

by M.C
(USA)

Soundless: 
It's a long story. Been thru many recoveries 'cuz of this but now I'm goin' into REAL recovery.

I'll just start with when I was 6. Mom married this awesome guy...OK, so SHE thought he was awesome, but I thought he was pretty nice. Soon enough he married her, when I WASN'T there. But as a tough l'il girl, I stood respectful to my new stepfather. He was nice at the start, but then he got really angry sometimes. He blew up from his ill-tempers and yelled; I never liked to see him angry 'cuz I was afraid he'd hit me or somethin'.

This story has been posted on this website almost 1,000 times, but this is different. My stepfather threatened me plus my mom a lot. Then I got a sibling--my bro. I loved him so much and as he grew, he cried a lot and wanted to be like Mom. This is the part where my stepfather gets really angry 'cuz he wants his son to be a TOUGH and GRUFF MAN!!!

Anyways, after a lot of fights and disagreements, Mom divorced my stepfather and we moved on, while my bro went back-and-forth from Mom to his dad. Meanwhile, my dad was in Austin, Texas and tryin' to recover from drug addiction. Sometimes I felt like it was my fault that he was addicted, but then I soon learned he had been that way even before I was born and my parents were married.

After 2 terrible years of tryin' to put up with my stepfather and a terrible school, we moved into an apartment with my mom's dad while my mom's mom was in Athens, Texas.

Foruth grade was my best year 'cuz 1) my stepfather was gone, 2) I had the best school and best friends, 3) I helped raise my bro like his own guardian. But then Dad moved to Dallas, even farther away from us. I hated it.

Mom even TRIED to fall in love with Dad again 'cuz she felt alone and she wanted us to have a man in the family. I watched my mom kiss my dad and sleep next to him in another bed, but then we left 'cuz it would never work out. Which hurt me even worse.

After 4th grade, Mom and I moved to another house with my grandmother and grandfather with my bro taggin' along. I started to go to a Baptist school which was really new since I was used to public and actually got saved in 5th grade. I became a strong Christian with a Christian singer/friend and lived a godly year but still felt alone inside. Just empty. Plain empty, like I needed someone by me. Not my friend/singer. God, but not JUST Him.

I stayed at home every day, doin' homework and watchin' TV all alone, still with that empty hole inside me. That summer, my dog Carlie got run over with me in the car so it only made me emptier. At least she's in a better place. But I soon realized my stepfather had made that hole inside me from everything he did. I was still scared.

After 5th grade, I decided to turn down another opportunity for Christian school and moved to the other side of the city and at a public school. I changed then. Transformed into someone different--I listened to secular music 24/7, got angrier, started readin' mature things, wrote mature things, fantasized 24/7, and became the dark outcast of the school. Mom started gettin' really angry at me and my bro, and even got really violent sometimes. She had kicked me in the rib, punched me in the shoulder, and cussed so much in front of me. Which made me even angrier. Now I cussed 24/7.

I felt alone. Dark. I loved the dark. I wrote the dark. I became the dark. No friends, just myself. Not even God. If I couldn't trust myself, I couldn't trust anyone else. Every day, I looked forward to my writings--poetry and short stories. But since I didn't have a solution to my own problem, I couldn't finish my short stories and novels. Mom got angrier each day. She screamed, she hit, she dragged, she ignored. I protected my bro every other day since my stepfather had him a lot, but since I was angry at everyone else, includin' myself, I was angry towards him. I had to stay away from him or else I would get violent. I looked forward to talkin' with my teacher, but then he started ignorin' me a lot. I felt isolated.

To sum it all up, I started buildin' muscle to prove myself that I could change. I worked out every day--ran, did push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups until my body was breathin' hard muscle. My bro started to notice this and even liked to test it out by punchin' me hard in the ab. It always hurt him. But I still felt terrible. God started to lead us to Cornerstone Church, but when I got there I felt helpless.

Until I met Kevin. He was my tall youth minister that I looked up to. Every Sunday, I looked forward to goin' to his night service. It was always fun, and he even grew curious about me. I always thought he could take me away, but I never told him...until one night. I ran away from my apartment, and...I don't wanna discuss it but he prayed for me, CPS didn't really agree, and Mom took me away from the church. It grew worse. I hated it. I hated her. I was so welled up with hate that I breathed it every day. I became Soundless, literally. I hated everyone, except Kevin. I even hated God 'cuz I was blamin' this on Him. I would pray to Him, Why did You put me here? I started to listen to Eminem and all the cussin'. I loved it. It made me release all the hatred.

I started to go to counsellin' at the church and I had fun talkin' all of it. I switched from Godly off and on 'cuz I would pray and go to church and praise, but then I would go back home and listen to Eminem. Mom acted like she hated me. EVERY DAY. I cussed, I thought bad thoughts, and I wrote terrible poetry. Mom cussed to. I always thought I wasn't good enough for her. Still do.

After a couple of months, I decided to write rap songs like Eminem since I couldn't write regular songs like a 'normal' person would do. I wrote 4 rap songs, and became a l'il famous over 'em. I even got Kevin impressed. I started to write cussin' rap songs about my life but then stopped with it (OK, SOMETIMES I write cussin') and wrote CHRISTIAN rap songs. Pretty cool.

So...this summer, I'm goin' to Church Camp with Kevin, and Mom and I developed a better relationship after she broke up with her ex-husband (my bro's dad) and came to me, thinkin' that her cussin', angry daughter could help her out. Well, I did. Now it's goin' to be happy. Not really. I gotta deal not just with my angry ex-stepfather, my drinkin'-and-drivin' dad and his crazy ex-girlfriend, and all the mean kids at school, but I gotta deal with MYSELF. And God. My Father is guidin' me, and I'm lookin' forward to it. My bro has looked up to me like a soldier and I've been a bad influence most of the time, but now I gotta set it straight. And I know I will.

"I'm supposed to be the soldier, who never blows his composure even though I hold the weight of the whole world on my shoulders/ I ain't ever supposed to show it/ my crew ain't supposed to know it..." --Eminem's "Like Toy Soldiers"

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Jess

by Jess
(Connecticut, USA)

It started at the beginning of 7th grade, from my mom. I didn't do anything wrong, and suddenly she was hitting and punching me. Once, I remember she threw my phone at me, hitting me in the head. I was very scared and it didn't seem like home anymore. I told one of my best friends and she said to tell someone. I told my cousin, and my two aunts. They talked to my mom. Now, my mom is too afraid to hit me. I'm just relieved I don't have to go through that anymore. Six months after it started, I'm glad I stopped it soon or else it might have gotten much worse.

Sincerely,
A 13-year-old

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Kirsty

by Kirsty
(England, United Kingdom)

I'm still a child and I hate it: 
I have always felt that I didn't belong, but I am 14 years old, and I hate my life so much, I feel like I would rather be dead. As I am in year 10, I have suffered from loneliness for about 3 years and it's tearing my life apart. I have always blamed my dad for who I am. Even though now, I would never dream of it, I have stolen, I lie as I know the consequences. I have been physically and verbally abused. I do have a disabled brother who is one year older than me. He has learning difficulties. I do try so hard with him, but sometimes I feel like strangling him (he's my bro, I wouldn't!!) Everyone thinks I am happy, but I am far from it. At 14 years old I am 12 stone 10 pounds (178 lbs.), how happy am I?????

The past 3 years my dad has hit me and my sister on the head and on the legs, he has kicked me up my bum, pulled me by my hair and thrown me on the floor. Verbally he has called me and my sister (my sis is 12, 2 years younger than me) names like fatty, idiot, stupid, fat cow, ****head, and has sworn at us and has told us to **** off. Even today he has said to me, "When you're sixteen your outta here." To be honest I can't wait to get out this madhouse. He has also said stuff like, "If it weren't for Dean (my brother) you (meaning me and my sister) wouldn't be here."

Although I love my mum, I still feel like strangling her to. When I don't do something she asks or tells me to do, she will get my dad, so we do it because he's always shouting no matter what we do. My mum has hit me and my sister, pulled our hair and kicked us. Verbally she has been insulting our weight and comparing us to other children (skinny, pretty, clever). There is not as much physical abuse than me and my sister used to get but it comes sometimes. Although it's my mum and dad arguing.

I hate my dad. I have thought about running away and killing myself. My dad is a pervert. Recently me and my sister keep finding porn magazines...IN his car boot, the garage, the top of his and my mum's wardrobe and the most recent one was found about 1 month ago. I found 2 mags in his computer desk. My mum said one was CALLED 'TEENAGE SEX'. For years when me and my sister are in his car with him, we drive past females that are from about 13 years old, hot young females. My father rejects me and terrorizes me.

As my brother is disabled, he is always screaming, throwing wobblers, physically abusing me, my mum and my sister. I have scars on my hands and down my arms from his nails. I have bruises still. When my brother doesn't get what he wants he makes a ginormous mess (tips toys and books over, moves couch and TV, throw plants and mugs on the floor). And I have had enough of it. My dad blames me for my brother's mess, and gets my sister to clean it up. Like I said, I AM 12ST 10LB, AND MY SISTER IS 12ST 12LB (180 lbs.). I blame my father for me and my sister's overweightness. He's the one buying the food (cakes, doughnuts, Mars bars, ice cream, too much cheese and milk). Three years ago I was bullied at school by students who were 3 or 4 years older than me. I was called a man, a fat pig, fatty. I still get boys in my year coming up to me and jumping round me calling me fatty.

I have always been shy. I rarely talk to teachers or other pupils. I would like to be a dentist or even get a job in the music industry, I love music. It's the thing that makes me happy, besides my laptop. Sometime in my twenties I would like to move to North America, somewhere in Canada (Vancouver), LA or New York.

BUT I NEED HELP TO KEEP POSITIVE.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Charlotte3

by Charlotte
(Location Undisclosed)

I have just turned 12. I didn't have a good birthday, as I only got some socks and some secondhand pair of school shoes. My nan said she would get me anything I wanted but my mam and dad would not allow it. They said I had too much stuff, and that was a barefaced lie. Soon as they said that, I ran to the bathroom and burst into tears. I thought this birthday is going to just like the rest, sitting up in my room, hearing my mam and dad arguing most of the time.

When my mam and dad have an argument, my dad went to the pub and spent £60.00 on drink. Normally when he comes back that drunk he mumbles.

A few weeks ago my mam locked my dad out and he threw a house brick through my window. I was in bed at the time. He missed me by an inch. The man who I am saying is my dad, he is nothing to do with me. He's my mam's boyfriend. I got forced to call him Dad. He said if I didn't call him Dad he would force my mam to take drugs. I don't even think my mam wants to be in this relationship with ????????? (Dad) as he is very violent towards my mam and me. Every time my mam leaves the house he asks her where you going and how long are you going for and he demands her to take her mobile. Every time my mam goes out he locks me in my room.

I can't type anymore. I have to go. He's shouting at my mam. Let me guess. He's been to the pub again.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

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Child Abuse Story From Emma1

by Emma
(Perth, Australia)

I am a survivor and I will all ways be one: 
I was 5 years old I got raped and bashed by my parents and they use to put me in a dark room. when I went to school people were not my friends because I did not look right because I had heaps of bruisers all on my body but I covered them up so no-one could see them. When I came back from school they had a bucket of water hot water they put my head in it for 1 min and while my head was under water they were kicking me and punching me. I could not breath I had short of air and then I thought I am not going to survive. then they tied me to the bed and sated to have sex with me. At the end of the sex I was soooooo shocked I could not speak. I ran away from home beacuse I had ebough of them doing heapsof bad things to me wich will haunt me for the reast of mylife. I am in a safe place now in a nice and happy home to all thoughs kids out there being abused run away from home and find help like I did.

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Child Abuse Story From Tyler for Carter

by Tyler
(Location Undisclosed)

This story isn't about me, it's about one of my best friends named Carter. The best friend I ever had was abused from the time he was small until he was a teenager. It was ridiculous the stuff that happened to him. I feel guilty about it now.

His mom was a real professional type who had never really been into him. His dad died in prison when he was four, so he never got to know him. I think that's for the best now. When we were like six Carter's mom got remarried. That's when the abuse started.
Since his mom was so into her work, she always left Carter at home with his stepfather. He hated that. He was more than terrified of him. And when he would tell her about the abuse, she just blamed him for it and claimed he deserved it. Even though we were so young when it all started, I was still really conscientious about what went on.

Carter would come to school real marked up all the time. The first time I really noticed was about a year later when he came to school with hook-like welts all over. I asked him what happened and he hesitated to tell me but he finally did. His stepdad had been drunk the night before and started beating him with a cord from the TV, for no reason at all. That wasn't the last or first time this happened. He would frequently come to school with bruises on his face and black eyes. Whenever I would ask him about them, the older he got, the more he would blow it off like it wasn't anything.

One day when we were in 6th grade, the school made us all get tested for scoliosis. I can remember Carter's face when they told us we would have to be shirtless. It looked like he wanted to throw up. I asked what was wrong and he just shook it off like he always did. I remember him screaming at our teacher about how he didn't want to take the test. He was practically in tears. The teacher made him do it anyways. I was behind him in line so I got to see him test. He waited for the last possible minute to take off his shirt and when he did I almost threw up at what I saw. Carter had open sores all on his back. It was covered with whelps and bruises so deep they looked green. When we got to go back to class, I asked him about it, he said he wanted to tell me but he just couldn't. When we walked home that day I asked him if his dad beats him, and everything spilled out.

Carter told me about what was going on in his house since his stepfather came into the picture. He told me how he would get beat so hard he would cough up blood, and even then his stepfather wouldn't stop. When I asked why he got treated like that, he told me that his stepfather thought he was a spoiled brat and needed to be taught a lesson. Carter also told me about how his mother wouldn't come home some nights because she was scarred that the stuff that his stepfather did to him would happen to her. He was left defenseless all the time. We talked for hours. He really needed to get this off his chest. He told me that his stepdad would hit him whenever he could get his hands on him and catch him if he ran. He told about the stuff that his stepdad would beat him with like rods, cords, broom sticks, 2x4's, wrenches, and whatever else he could get his hands on. If he didn't have anything to hit him with, he would just punch Carter and kick him until he passed out or begged for mercy. He told me how he would get locked out of the house for hours, or locked in closets after a beating so his stepfather wouldn't have to hear him cry. His stepfather would go days without feeding him, and make him stay up all throughout the night kneeling on glass or broken dishes.

This went on until Carter was 15. I even witnessed it a few times. Once Carter had me and a few other guys over while his stepfather was out. We thought we were safe but his stepdad snuck up on us when we least expected it. He lined all of us up against the wall except for Carter. Then he made Carter repeat after him saying stuff like "I'm worthless", or "I don't deserve to live because I'm incapable of following rules"(he wasn't allowed to have company). Carter repeated everything like a robot. He didn't even have any expression on his face. After that he made Carter roll up his shirt sleeve where he repeatedly punched him in the arm in the same spot. All of this was in front of us. I couldn't even watch my friend get beat like that. When he was finally done Carter's arm was purple, and he couldn't move it. He always blamed himself for the beatings.

Soon Carter stopped caring about life. Beforehand, he tried to be the perfect kid in order to get his stepfather's approval and to stop the beatings. Because none of that worked he just gave up. Carter wasn't able to feel anything unless it was brought about physically. He started cutting himself just to get some relief. When he wasn't cutting he would take ecstasy pills so he wouldn't have to feel any emotional pain. He still can't cry openly today.

My parents had always been real awesome and understanding people, so I told them about it, and they said Carter could move in until his stepfather got some help. I just wish I would've told earlier before he got how bad he is now. That is one thing I feel guilty about. Another thing is what his mother says to him.

Carter told me that his real father died in prison because he used to beat his mother and even him when he was an infant. Carter said that his mother wanted to punish him for moving in with me and leaving her, so she told him all the fowl things his real father did to him before he could even walk. Carter said that his father would beat him on his back to get him to shut up as a baby, and that once his mother caught him touching Carter in ways a father should never touch his kid. Because he put his real father on such a pedestal in comparison to his stepfather, this really wrecked him.

Now Carter is living with me. He's more than messed up over the kind of childhood he had to endure. He still cuts sometimes because he can't handle the emotional stress, and he has insomnia because he fears his stepdad will walk in at any time and start beating on him for no reason. It kills me to watch this kid suffer because he's never had a loving family like each child in entitled too. My parents have recently gotten him to see a counsellor. Carter has a story to tell, and since he won't, I did.

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Child Abuse Story From Molly

by Molly
(USA)

I've lived a life, full of misery, pain, and a colorful history of abuse. I'm happy to say that it has all worked out though: I'm doing fine now.

Ever since I was born, my mother was a heavy drug addict, and my father was a heavy alcoholic. Because of my father, I have a scar on my forehead, and had to get 40 stitches in my head when I was only but 3 years old. He has recovered over the years, and lives with me and my grandmother.

I am only 14, but am wiser than my years.

The only memories of my childhood involve beating of my mother and me, beatings from my mother, playing dirty 'games' with my mother's drug addicted friends, and being raped when she KNEW what was happening, and the neglect that followed.

My mother, my step-dad, and my younger half-siblings live at least 4 hours away from me. I dread visits to her house...for fear of the emotional and physical abuse my step-dad brings.

I kept this bottled up until very recently. My best guy friend, Ira, noticed my shakiness when my mother calls. I remember being at rehearsal, being in a tank top (because of the stage's extreme heat) performing my duet with him. Afterwards, his eyes traced up and down the scars on my arms, some by my own hands.

It was only until I had a PTSD (Post traumatic stress disorder) attack...someone thought it would be funny to lock me in a small cabinet to see if I could fit (I'm a small person)...I had a literal breakdown and clawed at myself, screaming and sobbing to let me out. Finally, I broke. I told Ira everything. The abuse...the rape...the neglect...everything.

I'm still not sure where to go from here. And I don't think Ira does either. I know God works in mysterious ways...and I can only hope I have this life to only make me stronger.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Stacy2

by Stacy
(South Carolina, USA)

The first time it happened I was an 11-year-old. I was swimming at my grandpa and grandma's pool with my two brothers. They were both younger than me and had to go in for their nap. Grandma was gone, leaving me alone with my grandpa. He wanted to go skinny dipping so he took off his suit. I wanted no part of this, and kept mine on. He kept tickling me and throwing me up into the air. Then I felt his penis against my body. I was getting nervous and knew it was not right. So I told grandpa that I was sick of swimming and wanted to go inside. But as I tried to pull myself up on deck I felt my grandpa's hands on me. Without warning he pulled my swimsuit down and inserted himself into me from behind. I couldn't believe the pain I was feeling. I tried to scream but my grandpa put his hand over my mouth. I was so numb from the pain. I remember the blood in the pool and my grandpa telling me how sorry he was that he had to hurt me. He said such terrible things to me. I was so confused. Why would my grandpa do this terrible thing. My grandpa raped me right in the pool. After he finished he stayed in me, and threatened me not to tell because nobody would believe a little girl. I was terrified he was right, and listened to him. He ended up raping me for 3 years, off and on. I wish I would have just told my mom what he had done, but I didn't. My grandpa just turned 78 years old last Friday, and I feel it is too late to tell now. It happened 15 years ago.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Amanda R

by Amanda R
(Missouri, USA)

Now age 27: 
When I think back to my childhood I remember always hiding under my round table in my room, hiding in the closets or attics. There were even times I would hide in the storage shed by the car port. Even in school I would always try to hide in the back of the classroom to be away from adults.

When I try to look back and try to see why I was so withdrawn, I remember how my mother used to scream at me when she got disturbed while helping Dad with his work. I wouldn't be anywhere near her, but I always got blamed for something.

There was a time period that I attempted to run away from home. From ages 3-17 I tried to run away. But every time I was returned home, my mother would beat me with a wooden spoon and shout at me. All I can remember hearing is the sound of the spoon hitting me. I can still hear her voice but I can't make out the words. Even when I didn't know how to tell time completely, I would be forced to sit in my bedroom for many hours, and was told to "think about what you have done." Even to this day I don't remember what I did that was so bad.

There were times that my only two best friends and my uncle were the only three people that I could talk to. Today I can only talk to who was once my best friend, he is now my boyfriend. He too went through abuse, only he went through it at the hands of his father. My father was never around, he was always working.

My father would buy me off with toys, and always try to suck up. But my mother was so mean to me. If one was to ask me what my childhood was like I would just say I don't remember.

When I would try to talk to another person about any of this they would say that what I went through wasn't abuse, and that I would be lying. Then I found this site. I answered yes to everything that was listed under physical and emotional abuse.

A few weeks ago I had bent down to get something when my boyfriend walked up behind me to get something off the table. I flinched. I know deep in my heart that the trauma I went through was causing so many problems in my life today. I want help. I want to find a balance. My boyfriend knows that I can't talk about what happened anymore. He knows that so many people have put me down and told me that I am so stupid in saying my mom is abusive. I am scared for my 14-year-old brother. I wonder every day what happens to him.

When my brother was born, my parents looked him over for disabilities, and even had him tested to make sure that he was perfectly healthy. My mother always rubbed in my face that my brother could read and write, and say his ABC's all before he was 4 years old. I was lucky to read before I was 10 years old. I couldn't write very well. I am 27 now and am still on a 5th grade reading level. Math I am still on a 1st grade level. My mom still puts me down for everything that I can't do. She won't even compliment my when I do do something good. She still says that I am stupid.

I still suffer from PTSD, as well as depression, and anxiety. When I go to my mom's house I feel like I am a prisoner, and I don't trust being in the same room with her. When she is cooking, if she goes to pick up a wooden spoon I leave the room. I want help. I want to get to where I am not scared anymore.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Rose1

by Rose
(Location Undisclosed)

Sexual Abuse Recovery: 
I'm going through an extremely confusing stage! As mentioned briefly in another spot, I was abused (Penetrated) for many years starting around the age of 4-11, mainly by my natural father, but also his father too! (Grandfather) I've seen many horrible things, and felt many horrible things along with it! Life was tough! Mum was an alcoholic and abused me (Verbally) for years and treated my brothers and I pretty badly! Her boyfriends came and went, some nice, some very abusive and some just plain mental! I left home at 15 and moved away from everything to save myself!

Anyhoo, years ago I wrote my father off and have absolutely nothing to do with him! I got married and now have a son.

So here's my problem!

I'm extremely over protective of my boy! He is only 5, has just started school and I feel like I have no control over who is near him and what's happening to him! I'm struggling with this! My hubby knows I was abused, but we don't speak about it often. I have tried to lightly explain what my stress is about now, but he honestly doesn't understand! I'm torn! I feel like I am losing it at home. I have been getting very angry and it's starting to upset me. :(

I have just got news that my father is in hospital with only days to live and I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I am really worried about his spirit coming to haunt me at night!!! :( Seriously, it's freaking me out. I'm scared of going back to panic attacks and nightmares every time I hear the damn floors squeaking.

Please help. I'm 35 and have been a survivor now for a few years and life for me has been great. I have this little hurdle to get through and I'm not sure what to do.

Cheers Rose

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

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Child Abuse Story From Lexi

by Lexi
(USA)

The Secret I Wouldn't Tell: 
It all started one morning when I was seven. My sister and I were getting ready to go to school. My stepfather, known to me as Dad, and I had gotten in a minor fight about wearing gloves to school. When I didn't give him the answer he wanted he picked me up off the stairs and pushed me into the corner of the wall. After that nothing really happened besides yelling a lot at me and my sister. My grandmother had later told me even before then she had always notice my stepfather "nagging" telling me all the things I did wrong but nothing I did right.

Nothing happened for a few months. Then we got in a fight again about having enough time before school to get something. Once again he didn't like the answer I gave him so he picked me off the stairs and instead of pushing threw me into the corner of the wall. From that point on my sister and I were terrified of my stepfather. He would yell all the time, calling us idiots and pieces of shit. Being seven and eight we weren't old enough to completely understand what was going on. When we tried to tell my mom, she pushed us away and said we were "over exaggerating." That was always her excuse. So not thinking it was that bad we didn't do anything. The words and the yelling kept coming but the hitting and pushing stopped for some time.

Then one summer day, I was about 12, I accidentally broke a part of the tent my sister and I would sleep in with our friends. My dad freaked out and dragged me inside put me across he knee and spanked me 4 very hard times. My sister seeing the whole thing sat there terrified as he threw me off his knee onto the floor. We then called my grandmother and she came to get us. Every time we would tell her about something like this she would say she was going to call Social Services, but every time it happened again and again and nothing changed. Little things like being grabbed by the arms leaving bruises, or getting a book thrown at me and my sister. It happened at least once or twice a month. My mom stopped being home as much and spent more time at "work" which gave my stepfather more time to push us around.

Then one summer Social Services showed up at my house and asked for my parents. Since I was home alone they decided to come back later. My mom told me and my sister if we told the truth to them we would end up in foster care and never see our family again. So when the lady came back we told her nothing had happened and lied. And since my dad was a doctor she just dismissed the case. I wanted so badly for her to see through me and tell that I was lying but I was too scared. All of my friends or most of them know what my stepdad does. None of them don't get why I just don't tell. The thing is, I don't want to break apart my family...I've talked to my sister many times. She wants people to think we have a perfect family and I will do anything to make her happy and my mom.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Ebilz

by Ebilz
(Canada)

The person who abused me was my father, the one person whom I thought I could actually trust. I was eight years old. My aunt was living with me. She always would hit me, for no reason. School was not great. The kids were always mean, so I used to cry a lot. Around that time, my mother left somewhere with my brother for three months. That's when my father started to touch me, which would lead to intercourse. I wasn't allowed to tell anyone, because he would threaten me, so I kept quiet. I was scared and alone.

I couldn't handle the abuse from my father, aunt, and school mates, so I tried to commit suicide. Never succeeded. I put up with it even when my mother came back, and I became really quiet. I never told anyone, because I was afraid. My mother had a divorce with him for other reasons. I came to Canada, where I eventually told my mother. I'm sorry if I can't write that well. Now I'm 13 years old.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Ebilz" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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Child Abuse Story From Ashley5

by Ashley
(Connecticut, USA)

My story isn't nearly as bad as other peoples'. Why I'm writing it; I'm not really sure. Maybe for closure, maybe to admit to myself that something actually happened. Whatever the reason, here I am.

I think I'll start with a form of mental abuse. As a very young child, about 5, my father was an alcoholic. He drank at night while my mom worked second shift at a hospital. He would drink and then talk to me and my older brother—by about a year and a half. He would say the craziest things about how we were all Native Americans in a past life and how I was the tribe healer—which is ironic since I hurt people a lot, but I'll get to that later—and how Tyler, my brother, is the fire watcher.

I didn't understand it and neither did my brother, but one day things got really bad. Tyler was forced to drink some of Ernie's, my—for lack of a better word—father, and we called our mom. She took us to a hotel for the night and asked us—US, her 5 and 6-year-old kids—if we wanted her to divorce Ernie. Of course we said no, but the guilt it left me with later on nearly killed me. I'll get to that later.

After that, for whatever reason, I became a compulsive liar. I lied constantly and for no good reason. I still don't know why and I still don't know how to stop. I hurt a lot of people with my lies, that is when they found out. I became such a good manipulator and liar that at 7—the tender age of SEVEN—I could convince people of whatever I wanted. I usually never did, and don't, unless I lie again for no reason.

When I was ten years old we moved from a big city to a small town. That's where all hell broke loose. My brother, who had teased me relentlessly before, now started teasing me to the point of me being in tears every time. I tried to be his friend, I tried to appease him, I tried everything, but he still hated me and I didn't know why. And that nearly killed me as well. Eventually he started pushing me around, but it only happened twice. Still, the betrayal and hurt that I felt was more painful than anything I've ever experienced.

When I was 11 I started having suicidal thoughts. At twelve I tried to kill myself for the first, and only, time. I downed a bottle of Aspirin while watching myself in the mirror. I didn't realize that it wouldn't be harmful enough. When that didn't work, I was so upset that I started cutting myself. May I just say that things sucked at home and at school. Like I said, it was a small town and I wasn't accepted anywhere. I had 0 friends, and at that time I was in a middle/high school (where I still go) so I really wanted friends, but never had any.

Soon after, I stopped cutting for a little while because things got a little better at home. Tyler and I started to really become close and I soared for joy! Then, as usual, everything came crashing down. On a Monday of my eighth grade year—I'm in ninth now—Ernie hit me for the first and last time. All of the painful emotions I'd been holding out came crashing around me and I started cutting again, but didn't let Tyler know.

Then someone found out and I got sent in-patient. It was there that I had to face some ugly truths. My entire family had abused me in one way or another. My father emotionally abused me because he always said that I was fat or that I smelled or that I was a horrible person. My mom didn't really abuse me, she just never wanted to listen to me. Tyler physically, verbally and emotionally abused me, but I've forgiven him and we're mega close.

I think the reason that I'm writing this is because of something I read about emotional abuse victims. The article I read stated that 'most people can't imagine craving for someone's arms to be around them-for a parent or friend to hold them.' That shocked me because I remember, and still have, a lot of tear-filled nights where I'd wrap my arms around myself for comfort or when I'd turn to a razor blade or my steak knife. Sometimes, when I was crying so hard that I couldn't think right, I really just wanted someone, anyone, to be by my side, so I'd tie the arms of a sweater or a shirt around my arms in a pretend hug and I'd let myself pretend that it was a mom or dad or friend.

That's another thing. When most people cry, the harder they cry the louder they get. Not me. When I want to cry, which is all the time, I cry so quietly that you could walk by my room and not know. I just sit there and let the tears flow usually. Sometimes I'll get reckless and draw on my walls with chalk, other times I'll cut to calm myself down and some times I'll rock myself back and forth, but I'm always very quiet about that. I think that it's because I'm worried that if my parents or brother heard me that they'd say I'm pathetic and weak. Which I am, but still I don't need to hear it. I still sometimes crave for the feeling of a comforting arm around me when I'm upset. I'll cry harder and harder and harder with every thought.

I abuse myself. Not just the cutting, but I'm VERY mean to myself. I hate my f***ing guts. I'm such a pathetic, slimy, smelly, fat, ugly creature that I should just die and never be seen again.

At school people are always mean to me. They hate me so much and I don't even know what I did to them, other than exist and be me. I hate me because I made so many people hate me.

Anyways, things are looking up because my mom's getting a little better and she's divorcing Ernie then moving back to my home town with me and Tyler, so hopefully things will be better there.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Ida

by Ida
(Indiana, USA)

It started when I was 2 years old, My mom was with this man that I thought was my dad. More he beat it into me that he was. He was constantly physically abusive towards my mom, brother and me, but after he put my mom in the hospital for the first time I was 4, he began to sexual molest when she was not home. He would force himself in me from behind and would not quit until he would get off inside of me. He would make me give him oral sex as well as touch me in places that he shouldn't. He told me that if I told anyone that he would kill my mommy and I would never see her again. He would take me to work with him (he was a truck driver) he kept a bed in his truck and he would have anal sex me over and over until he passed out. When I was 5 years old my mom left this man, I thought that I could move on no one had to know because he was gone. On my 6 birthday I met my real father, I was the happest little girl again not only did I have a Daddy but I had a new family I had a new step sister and step brother and a half brother. Life could not get better in my young life. Until the day my daddy forced himself in me, were he anal molested me until he was satisfied. Once again I was forced to do oral acts on him making me drink milk after I was done so I wouldn't throw up. After a few times of just me he started molesting my little sister and me at the same time.

I can remember once telling my dad to take me in the room not my sister I was older I could handle the pain better. It continued for about a 6months until one day my sister was crying on me in the bathroom when my step mom walk in and started yelling at us she asked me if anyone had touched me, I broke down and told her what my daddy and my step dad had did to me. I remember her being mad and us getting in the station wagon and going to the fishing spot where my dad and my brothers where at. I was suppose to be asleep but I could here them talking and yelling at each other. She told him that he needed to stop and they had to go to my mom and tell her about my step dad. The next day they went to my mom told her what I told them and she called the police. I remember talking to the police and my grandma(step dad's mom)she asked me if I was sure that was what happened. My step dad was arrested but was released and charges were never brought because it was my word against his. Needless to say my father did not stop, in fact it got worse he was more forceful. He started molesting my little brothers, still I said nothing because from what he told me it was my fault that he does it and if I told he would kill my mom. I went to his house every other weekend and during the summer until I was 11 years old. I just came home from my dad's having been molested that day my big brother sense something was wrong with me so I broke out in tears and told him everything It was around 11 oclock at night so my mom was in bed. My brother told me that dad had did the same thing to him the night before and together we decided to tell my mom. We both went in her room and woke her up,told her what happen to us she called the police in our town and in the matter of hours my father was being escorted out of his house in hand cuffs. That was the last time he would hurt me again, and that was the beginning of my healing.

We went through a battle in court with him saying he was not guilty and then saying he was over five times finally the judge convicted him giving him 20 years for 8 counts of child molesting and insest. The man that had hurt me was in prison and could no longer do so, my step mom also went to prison for 4 years because she knew what was happening and didn't do anything. I later found out that on my 20birthday my father got out of jail. By then I was married and didn't think that he could find me.

When I was 24 I found out that my father was a usher at my friends church, he found out about me and started asking my friend to contact me. Of course I refused. This man is now remarried, I don't know if she has children but I pray she don't. Some how he found out that I had been married and sent a birthday card to me at my ex husband's house. I have not talked to him nor do I plan on it and i will continue to let him think that I am married. I have 3little boys that I will protect with my life, and I pray that man never steps foot into my life.

A couple of years ago I ran into some relatives of my step father and although he was let off for what he did to me, he continued to molest he got married and had two autistic daughters, their mother knew about what he had done to me and claimed to the police that he did the same to his two girls even though the girls couldn't say that he did there was still a file that had been closed on me and because of that file he was proven guilty and is spending time in prison.

I have never sought professional help myself, but I have done alot of self healing. The flashbacks are rare now, I have suffered from depression, post traumatic stress disorder. After what happen to me when I was a kid, I didn't trust very easy still don't to this day. There is anything I would want to change it would be that I went to my mom sooner.

I have read many of the stories on here and it breaks my heart that most of the victim do not have someone they can go to. I ask you please if someone is hurting you or did please tell someone because they will not stop they are very sick and they need help. Just because they might stop hurting you, doesn't mean they do not have access to others.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

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Child Abuse Story From Joseph Part 2

by Joseph
(Pennsylvania, USA)

I'm going to start off on what kind of beliefs I believe. I use to believe in God. I use to pray every day for help, but got nothing (in my eyes), and Love that was there for my Religion was filled with Hate, Anger, and Abandonment. Just like most of the trust I had with people. Even till this day, people I talk to say go to church, but I'm the kind of person who can't just jump into a church and feel better.

I had a good friend when I was growing up, who I spent a lot of time with. He was going through basically the same kind of abuse I was. He had the emotional and the physical but no sexual abuse. His family went to church, went to church outings, bake sales. Basically anything the church had to offer. It took me over two years to find out that he was abused by his Father. Out in public, even when they took me to church. He seemed so whole-some, a man with honor and integrity. It was hard even for me to believe. But when he went home, he wasn't nothing like that.

To me religion seemed empty and wrong. How could God let this kind of a person into his temple? I know not everyone is like that, but later in life he wasn't the only person I noticed with these kinds of issues. So I started to read about all types of religion. I learn how many people worshiped to the history. But no matter what, people always turned to me and said you need God. God puts nothing on you that you can't handle. So I slowly started to pray again, trying to make an effort to be more open-minded.

December 27th, 1996 I had a baby boy. I had just turned 14 years old. But even before that, I had a girlfriend who was raped and beaten to death. I was at the hospital with her when she died. We found out before she died that was 5 - 6 months pregnant. When she was told the baby had already died, she died herself about two minutes later. A few of my friends tried to help and throw a party of sorts. I was very suicidal then. His older brother got some alcohol and I got drunk. The girl who has always liked me took advantage of that, and she found out about a month later she was pregnant. And on the 27th of December he was born.

I did everything possible to make sure I was a good Father. I even went to court to be declared an adult. When I was 14 I could drive as long as I had my court papers, and could keep and hold down a job. When my Son was around six months old, I had my own place. Life was hard but good. I found things out about myself. That I'm a very determined, a responsible person. And most importantly that I didn't have any anger towards my Son, nor any sick thoughts. Which I was really terrified that I would have. Most books that I have read and People I have talked to basically said it would continue in a circle. What was done to me, I would do to others.

At age 15 I found out I had testicular cancer. But it did not stop me from my life. I did have some major problems. My white bloods cells turned on me and my heart stopped twice due to the Chemo. But I never stopped being a Father, I always did what I could when I could do it. It was very hard, mostly due to my Son being too young to understand why Daddy is so sick. As far as my Son's Mother, I could not forgive her for taking advantage of me. Even though it made my Son. So we never really got along. It made me not trust even more. But in the long run, my Son made me a better man, well at least shaped me faster and in the right direction.

I had summers off, that is when we spent the most time together. But like I said, my religion and belief in God is very shaky and on rocky ground. I had a strong inner peace that I would not trade for the world. But God giveth and Taketh away.

In December of 2000, I had underwent another Chemo session. It had a very bad reaction to me and I went into cardiac arrest. My Son's Mother who was on the way to see her family up north, got the call from the hospital, and turned around. I was going to go up with her and my Son a day later. As she was coming back, she got into a very bad car accident due to a semi running a red light and a drunk man too close to his back trailer running the red light as well. She was in the middle of the road trying to turn after the semi went and was smacked into broadside. It killed them both. The truck rammed them going 50-60MPH. I thought they were up north already. The Doctors thought I was too unstable and the stress of hearing that news would send me in shock or have another heart attack or even a stroke. I didn't learn about them until a month and a half later. A nurse lied to me and said they knew, and they respected my wishes to stay away until I was not hooked up to all the wires and tubes. She did it to protect me. It took me awhile to understand that and to except it. So I'm stilling dealing with not having closure.

After I got out, my life fell apart again. I lost my job and my apartment. I ended up living in my car. Having no cash, I managed to get a job at a Wal-Mart for a time being. Still hard to have a job and live out of your car. But I managed to be strong enough to stay away from drugs and alcohol. I stilled cried myself to sleep every night. I moved from Jacksonville, Florida to Reading, Pennsylvania in September 2004. I met my now Wife, and kind of got into relationship pretty fast. My Step-Son got me kind of hooked. I felt a hole in my heart kind of filled. Two weeks later my Now Wife got pregnant. Her anger really came out after we said I do. She abused my Step-Son so many ways, verbal, physical, and emotional. She broke a sweet innocent child into a little monster that was turned into a version of herself. Even being gone from her almost 2 years now, Her Son still has some major issues. Currently we are dealing with the state, based on her child caring abilities. She has broken my heart so many times.

I will continue with my Wife and the saga of my life in my next part of my ongoing life story. I just feel so lost and so confused about a lot of things. I'm certain about being a parent, about being responsible, but I'm still a lost little child trapped in a world of giants. I have so much rage and anger, that it overflows the love that I do have. Even though my Wife was the abuser, I still feel it was my fault. What ifs can eat you alive: what if I did this or that. I really need something good to happen, it feels like I'm lost down the rabbit hole. If there is a God, Why does this stuff happen to me? What could I have done different? How much more do you I have to go through? I know it's mostly to do with my mother getting into my head for such a long time. I know it will get better down the line, but I'm afraid of falling off before I get to that point. The funny thing is when people see me, they always think I'm very upstanding, strong-minded. But I have such a nightmare in my head. I've been reading other peoples' stories and it helps to know I'm not the only one dealing with so much pain and anger.

Thank you for reading my story!

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. I do hope to hear from you there.

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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed9

by Name Undisclosed
(Ohio, USA)

Child abuse with drugs: 
I was eight when my parents got divorced. I remember crying a lot about it because I was close to my parents. I thought I had a mother that would throw herself under a bus for me, but I was wrong. I had problems as soon as the divorce started because my father had left my mother for her best friend; and she took a lot of her hate for my mother out on me. I remember my mom started to date my uncle's brother-in-law (my dad's brother's wife's brother).

I took a lot of mental abuse and physical abuse just for being alive. My stepmother would have nice talks to me and say things like, "You will grow up to be nothing but a welfare bum." What a funny thing to say to an eight-year-old child.

I think about things a lot as an adult now, and feel like I would just sound like another person about how bad I had it as a kid, then something happened today at work. I was at the lunch table with all my friends and one guy was telling stories about his abusive childhood. I looked up and said, "When I was eight my mother's boyfriend used to tie a grocery sack around my neck and poke a hole in the top and blow pot smoke in it." I got a really strange response from everyone, and was asked to repeat the story again out of disbelief.

I have anxiety, panic and depression, and am on medication but it does no good for me. I know my mother knows what happened because I told her about it when it happened and she seemed to think it was funny.

I just don't know what to do or how to deal with this. I just don't know if I can't remember being a child or if I have blocked it out.

I live a good life and my wife and son are first, and I mean I would throw myself under a bus for them.

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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed27 Part 1

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

The Truth: 
I think my memory of what you would define today as 'abuse' started as early as kindergarten. My story goes like this. My mother (a stay at home mom, middle class home), at the time, did not drive and my father was at work so, she walked me to kindergarten for the first few days and then I was on my own. I walked to school, sometimes it was still dark, by myself. This walk was about a mile or more. At the time, I was a bit over 5 and obviously didn't know any better but there it was.

I was one of three girls and right in the middle. Older sister was 18 months older and younger sister was 9 years younger. My father was a fireman. My mother stayed at home until I got older and she had temp jobs when she felt like working.

My father was and still is an angry, intimidating man who is beyond controlling. My mother was and still is neurotic, emotionally void (unless it serves her), and evil.

My mother and father had a volatile relationship and in short, that meant HELL for my older sister and I, particularly for me. On the outside looking in everything looked great i.e. we had a decent home, a summer home, our presentation was that of a 'solid, unified family'. Not the case.

My childhood was a roller coaster filled with many lows. Because my parents basically always argued and the trust level was never there, it was like living in a hellish home. My father, I feel, never got over losing his ability to openly be the 'player', and my mother married the 'player'.

My mother was 100% a willing submissive wife. I feel that she enjoyed the fact that my father 'owned' her. She knew that he was an over the top hothead, so instead of the focus being on the two of them fighting, she would actually find ways to target my older sister and I. This in turn would take the anger or his wrath from her and put in on my sister and I.

My mother was no saint by any means. She threw anything she could see and throw it at us. Have no idea how I am still here today.

My father was a violent man. He would grab me from my top bunk and with one yank pull me down off of it and I would land right on my lower back. Today as an adult, I have permanent spinal damage. He also enjoyed the 'beating me until I peed on myself and then putting me to bed without food' trick. That was a family favorite of his. He would hold my legs with one hand and beat me with his belt. This went on all throughout my childhood years up into my teens.

And no, if you're curious, my mother never ever lifted a finger to help me or my sister, in fact as I said she typically orchestrated the entire thing.

See Part 2 below.

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Child Abuse Story From Becca

by Rebecca
(USA)

From the time I was 3 to 11, I've been sexually abused by my father. My mom split when I was 2, leaving me with him. He wasn't an alcoholic or anything like that. He really did love me I guess...in his own sick way. He'd always make me lay in the bed with him. I was only 3. He'd rub me in places where 3-year-olds aren't supposed to be rubbed. He'd always say that he'd love me forever and that I'd never leave him. I was 6 when he actually raped me. I remember days before then when he'd make me rub him, make me take off my clothes for him, and make me kiss him.

The day he raped me, I was in my room, doing my homework. He came up behind me and just started kissing my neck. I remember giggling; it tickled. Then he took off my shirt. I got fidgety then. I think I kinda knew what he was about to do was wrong. He took off my pants, then just left. I thought he was gone for good and was about to close the door when he came back in with this white rope. He shoved me down on my bed and tied me to my headboard. Then he raped me. When he was done, he carried me into the bathroom, kissing me and feeling me and telling me that he loved me so much. That, "I was a good girl for making Daddy feel so good." He washed me up and made me sleep in his bed with him.

The next day at school, I remember debating whether telling someone or not. I finally ended up telling the school nurse. I showed her the bruises on my stomach and she called the police and Child Services I guess, because this lady in a suit came to take me to my Granny. He was put in jail for 6 to 10 years for molestation.

I'm now 13 and scared out of my wits that he'll come back for me. He's said so so many times in his letters. My Granny is going on 72 and is too weak for him. Please. Someone just please pray for me. I've already tried to convince my Granny to get a restraining order or something, but she's being stubborn. Just pray.

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Child Abuse Story From Benjamine Marsh

by Benjamine Marsh
(Stafford, Virginia)

I was abused by George O. A. Lowe, the pastor my church, Mount Hope Baptist in Stafford, Virginia. During the summer, between my freshmen and sophomore years of high school, I stayed with Lowe's family when my mother and grandmother went out of town for a few weeks. It was during this time that I was having urinary and prostate problems, and Lowe had me expose myself to him in order to check it out. According to his confession, this was the first time he felt urges to do immoral acts upon me.

The fall of my sophomore year, Lowe began picking me up from my grandmother's house, taking me to his office at the church. This was for me to do homework and for him to talk to me. Before we would leave he would make me masturbate, saying that it was "medically good for me".

As my sophomore year progressed, I began to have difficulties at school. My grades slipped, and I was always feeling as if I was an outcast. I was not allowed to have a girlfriend, or even to talk on the phone to girls. This was Lowe's influence through guidance to my mom.

I was conflicted in what the reverend was having me do. I did not feel that masturbating was wrong because at this time I was under the impression that it was a medical treatment. However, I was sure that I did not want to be doing it with him watching me. Along with this conflict I suffered a loss. A girl I had met killed herself that winter.

Any doubts I had about what I was doing changed on March 10, 1984. On this snowy Saturday morning, Lowe took me to his office. I had gotten into a little fist fight with a guy at school the week before and word had gotten to him about it. We first talked about my role in the fight. He then talked about my mom sending me away. He said he could convince my mother not to. I later found out this was not true, but yet another manipulation.

Before departing his office he had me masturbate in front of him again. This is when it was no longer a medical treatment. He bent down and performed oral sex on me. I wanted him to stop but he did not. I felt that my body had betrayed me. I did not understand about the natural physical reactions a body goes through. It was as if a ton of weight had been placed on my shoulders.

When he dropped me off this time, he said to not tell anyone about what went on at the church with us. He made reference to a sign in his office that said: What is said here, Stays here when you leave here. I did not want to go back to his office anymore, but that is not how things worked out.

On March 13th, a close friend of mine was killed in a car accident. After that, whenever I seemed to be home, Lowe picked me up to 'talk' to me. I protested, telling my mom and grandma I did not want to go with him, but it was to no avail. Each time I was with him, I would hope that he would change, that he would stop doing this. But it went on and on and on.

No one figured out why I protested about not wanting to go with the reverend. My grades slipped even further, even though he was supposed to be helping me with homework. My only other recourse was to try to passively make myself unavailable to him.

I stayed after school as late as I could, some nights until 10, or 11 o'clock, helping with other school activities or projects or something. This did not raise any red flags either. Everyone at home just thought I liked being involved with everything. All these behaviors went on, and I felt I could not go to anyone and tell them what was wrong because I did not want to get sent away. I also did not want other kids at school to think I was an even bigger freak than I felt I was. I just did not understand why. I tried prayer, I tried reading the Bible. But, everything about god and religion seemed false to me, as I saw him on the pulpit every week, knowing what he was doing to me. I did know that God was not the one doing these gross acts to me, but it took years to grasp the fact that I had no control over the actions of the reverend.

I graduated from high school in 1986. I often think back to when I entered those halls as a freshman, the principal telling us that the next four years there would be the best days of our lives. Well, from my sophomore to senior year there were more than 20 acts committed against me by this sexual predator. Add that on top of all the growing pains every teen goes through, I want to know when those best days were supposed to have happened. I was robbed of more than my virtue. I was robbed of my self-esteem, innocence and the privileges of being a normal teenager and developing upon the thing I learned as a youth into the man I wanted to become.

In 1988 I went to the Chairman of the Deacon board at Lowe's church. At first he told me "to do nothing" until he got back with me. On Presidents Day 1988 he called me in to meet with him. He did not tell me that the reverend would be there, however. When I got to the church, he had me come into the reverend's office and they began reading Bible verses. Now I cannot remember what verses they read, but the point they came to was that Christians do not take Christians to court. I could not accept that. I did not feel the conduct of the reverend with reference to me demonstrated a Christian behavior.

For the next 20 years I tried on my own to deal with the issues of the abuse. I bounced back and forth across the country. I was thrown out of the Army. There were several attempts to harm myself, finally ending in a failed marriage, a meth-amphetamine addiction, and me in prison.

When I returned back to Virginia from prison in August of 2007, I made contact again with the Sheriff's office. They had me wear a wire, and go and talk with the reverend and get him to confess. He told me that he was surprised that I had so many problems over the years. He did not feel he had done anything wrong, that he was sorry and that he thought I was willing to participate back then. We met two more times. He said he wanted to help me through my issues and he spoke freely about the abuse. He talked enough that he was charged with 9 felonies. After a plea bargain, he pleaded guilty to 2 felony counts and was sentenced to prison for 5 years. He will serve at least 2 1/2 years.

It has taken me nearly twenty years to get to where I am today. After hearing my story, and knowing that George Lowe confessed to sexually abusing me, it may be easy to see all the signs that I was giving off in the 80's that something was very wrong. The signs that I was a victim of sexual abuse by a man who was supposed to be a helper in the community, someone whom I should have been able to trust and look up to, not someone whom I should fear and be haunted by his abuse.

It is not my intention to cast blame on anyone for not seeing that I was crying out for help. I understand why people may have found it difficult to believe that George Lowe could have been doing the things he did to me; however, this is my reality. I was a victim of sexual abuse, and the crimes did not go away on the days after he abused me. They remained with me every day of my life, and will continue to do so. Many times, he took advantage of me and committed unspeakable acts of sexual abuse against me.

Getting George Lowe out of the pulpit and into prison has been a great relief to me. His conviction has not eliminated all of the issues in my head, but it has helped me to finally get a foothold and begin to heal. I am encouraged that George Lowe will no longer have the ability to hurt anyone the way he hurt me, and that I may have saved someone from suffering the same abuse as I. I have a way to go before I am completely healed; however, I know that with the Lord's help and the help and support of friends and family, I am no longer a victim. I am a survivor.

To my visitors: I don't normally permit the inclusion of full names, either that of the story contributor, or that of the contributors' abuser. I have this policy in place in order to protect the privacy of the individuals who submit their stories, and yes, because of potential liability issues. I've made an exception in Ben Marsh's story, only because I was able to verify that one, there was a court case brought against this sexual predator; two, that in a plea bargain this predator pleaded guilty to some of the felony charges that he was facing; and three, than Ben has gone completely public with this already, using his full name.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Benjamine" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Anne1

by Anne
(Ireland)

I was the china doll in my family. It was relatives abused me. On a family holiday at Easter. I was 4. It went on until I was 6. I was so young and no language to explain it and because they tried to kill me in a lake, I had no memory of it until in later life. In an attempt to give up the smokes and be hypnotised, it all came up. I survived. He is dead since this summer. My Abuser. I am honest. I would love help.

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Child Abuse Story From Apostolic Angel

by Apostolic Angel
(Location Undisclosed)

I an Apostolic Pentecostal first generation...I live with my emotionally abusive grandparents...it is better now because I used to live with my sexually and physically abusive mother and stepfather...I am a cutter and nine-year bulimic. My mom's new husband is sexually abusive to me also. I am so scared to go see my mom. I want to see her cuz I love my mom, but I don't know what to do.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Paige

by Paige
(Location Undisclosed)

My dad has always been a jerk, and I picked up on it pretty early in my childhood, but it wasn't until my 7th grade year that I really picked up on the fact that he didn't treat us right. At all.

It started when I realized that it seemed like I didn't remember very much from early childhood...so I started trying to think back on the past. A lot of the memories came slowly, but as I thought back over time, I noticed that a lot of them had to do with my dad.

One instance that I remember quite well was on a summer evening. I was maybe 4 or 5. My parents and I were down the street socializing with neighbors. I had my little bike with training wheels and was peddling around, minding my own business when my dad said we had to go. Being like any other little kid, I begged to stay with my little neighborhood buddies, but he refused my pleas. Suddenly, he became enraged and grabbed me by the arm, thrust me off of my bike and threw me over his shoulder. I hung there, with my belly against him, screaming to be put down. He roughly grabbed my bike and carried me home, where he proceeded to throw my bike on the driveway and take me inside where I got repeated blows to my back and bottom. I just remember standing there afterward, shaking as I looked at my mom, who had just stood there watching in horror but too afraid to do/say anything.

My dad doesn't usually get physical like that, but he is constantly picking at us and calling us names and yelling. He is the most controlling, selfish person I know and he thinks that everything is his. For example, instead of saying "our kids" when referring to my sister and I, he says MY kids and it drives me INSANE.

I've come to dread him, especially when he gets angry. My mom isn't much of a safe-zone anymore either. After 15 longggg years of emotional and some physical abuse, she just sits there doing nothing. She can even get scary sometimes too...like in 8th grade. I tried to tell my teacher about everything and she took it great, except she told me she would have to report it to CPS. I'm sooo tired of being depressed and I even cut, so it was just a cry for help. I felt like since my mom wasn't doing anything to help us except sit and complain about it, I had to do something, but after my mom found out I really regretted it. CPS did nothing to help us because my mom convinced them I made it up, which is the most frustrating thing ever! I have that teacher on my side now, but my dad still continues to hurt my mom, sister, and I. Sometimes I'm scared he is gonna hurt my dog too. I've gotten to the point where I'm living with it but still hate it so much. I just don't know what else to do.

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Child Abuse Story From Anonymous32

by Anonymous
(Location Withheld)

I was not physically abused, not at all. My parents really love me and did the best they could I guess. What did happen is that my mother used to yell at me way too much. She got really jealous when I loved someone that was not her. For example, she got mad that I enjoyed being with my cousins, or my friends, and often talked bad about them in front of me. She never corrected me when I did something wrong, just blamed me and lectured me as if I was 25 years old when I was 8; and she did threaten to spank me, but it was just 3 or 4 smacks like once a year and never bared me or anything. Once she got so angry at me because I got "bad grades" and spanked me over my jeans, I was standing, but I was 12 years old. I cannot tell you how ashamed I was. I was not a little girl anymore. Puberty had started, and I felt so ashamed. She also told me my father said he would spank me if I got bad grades, but never did. I was so ashamed. The buttocks are like a really private area! and I was 12 not 5 years old!!!!

I do remember being so afraid of my parents even though they never beat me up! When I was in high school and failed a course (just a month, not the whole course) I started weeping because I thought my parents would take me out of that school because it was private and you know they "made a big effort to keep me in that school".

I never witnessed violence among my parents, but I remember my mom being really sad sometimes. I also remember huge levels of fear and phobias in my childhood. My parents are doctors, and when I was like 5 years old we went to their old campus. I wanted to see the dead bodies students used for learning. My mother said, "There are no corpses right now honey" (to keep me from seeing them) but my dad said, "That's not true, here they are, take a look!" So I saw the corpse, I also saw entrails in a huge ice tray, all through a window. Of course I had nightmares for months! I also was so afraid of people who had amputatations, because I was too scared that could happen to me. I was so scared of a boy that had lost his hand, and an aunt who was agonizing and was about to get her leg amputated. Once I had a horrible dream about not having hands. I remember having visions in my head about me sleeping and my parents cutting my hands for no reason. I did really weird things like people with obsessive compulsive disorder do, to feel safe about this. Again, these were periods, not my entire childhood. I am guessing I do not remember how often this happened, but I used to feel totally disconnected from the planet when those fears were over my head. It was HORRIFYING.

Also, when I saw news about kidnapped kids, this affected me at such level that I didn't wanted to go and play outside with my cousins.

About sexual abuse, nothing happened to me until I was 15 I think, but by that time I had not kissed a boy, or made out with one. Nobody had ever touched me before that. He was my cousin, 3 and a half years older than me, who was like a big brother to me. I looked up to him, hated him sometimes, but longed for his approval in everything! He came into my room and told me, "Let's see if I can pick you up", and he picked me up but with my legs around his body and his hands on my butt, you know like parents pick up little children, but I was 15! And then he let me fall on the bed. I laughed out loud and he was like, "Shhhh shut up" (because my mom was in the other room) then he said, "Let's see in front of the mirror." And then he did touched me, with my clothes on, but then he went under my clothes and touched me. I was not wearing a bra. It was like I could not resist to let him do this, I DIDN'T WANTED HIM TO, but I looked up to him that I just let him do it, and did not want to pass through the awkward situation of: get your hands of me! It was like I was powerless. I remember feeling like I have never felt before, and I didn't enjoyed it, at all. This never happened again.

I was an obese child, bullied of course, and started to lose weight at 14. My parents always reminded me that I had to lose weight, and that I ate too much, confronted me about that in front of people, and the day I decided to lose weight it was because my mother scolded me because I was eating junk food and I was like: if you don't want me to eat, I will not eat at all. I lost like 50 pounds, and when I was 17 I started to take laxatives: phenolphtalein, but I used to take the whole bottle (with 50) in one day. I took hundreds of bottles, hundreds, as I did this for a year and a half. I am done with this.

I was also bullied for a whole year in high school, until I decided to talk to the principal. A group of boys teased me. First they started to make lusty sounds when I passed buy, then they started to be really disrespectful, making fun of me, saying obscene phrases about me out loud, and threw papers at me. It was horrible. I didn't want to go to school anymore.

When I wanted to start making out with guys (I so wanted to because all of my friends and cousins had done it and I didn't and I was ashamed, but my friends and cousins were older than me) it was strange, I freaked out when a guy tried to touch me. I was wearing jeans but I was like, no way!! Even though I used to dress way too sexy, started wearing super tight clothing or showing my belly and wanted to turn guys on. I also took pictures of me almost naked, and never expected the reaction they had all over the student community of my town. Of course I projected the image of being a sexually experimental teenager who wanted more. I just wanted a boyfriend! Guys thought that I was slutty, and when I wanted to talk to them about something because I was sad, they tried to touch me and I had the same feeling I had when this happened first with my cousin.

Now I am 22, not bullied anymore, not anorexic-bulimic anymore, not an outcast and not considered a slut anymore.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Ana H

by Ana H
(USA)

When I was born I was never let outside. I was never allowed to interact with anyone but my family. I was made to stay in a small room off my parents' room. When I was 5 years old my dad started making me walk around with no clothes on and would touch me in my "special spot" as he called it. I was made to sleep in my parents' bed at night and the touching continued.

When I was 8 my dad started to put things up my butt telling me it was because I was a bad girl. It ranged from the size of a pen to four fingers. I was also given enemas regularly. I would be made to hold a liter all night long with something in my butt hole to keep it there.

At 10 my father raped me for the first time. He told me he loved me before shoving it inside me all at once. After that he would sell me to his friends to do what they wanted with me. I stayed at one man's house for one whole month. He would make me act like a baby. I would wear diapers and would sleep in a big crib that held both of us. He would rape me over and over. I would have to suck his "pacifier" as he called it and drink the milk. I would say nooo but it was never heard. I am now 16 and still being raped by my dad and his friend. I now think this is the life I will have forever. I guess I was born to live this life.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Mary4 Part 3

by Mary4
(Oregon, USA)

Darlene, thank you for including mother-daughter incest in your book. I felt a scourge of energy when I read that. Although I don't feel I need any kind of therapy, because I will make it just fine, your comments meant the world. Someone asked if I was now an adult. Yes I'm an adult now, I'm 19 years old. The abuse was so recent to me that it's very vivid in my mind, although I do sometimes get confused with some of the events.

I also want to say that writing about what happened to me has been a blessing and has been very, very difficult. It's difficult because I have to relive events I'd rather not remember and it's difficult because my spelling is so bad that I have to look up lots of words before I write them.

Most of the abuse only happened for about three years and then only a couple times after that.

When I turned ten the state required me to take a test to see how I was progressing. I did poorly on the test and the state wanted my mother to send me to school instead of homeschooling me. My mother put off sending me to school till I was eleven but decide I needed to attend when the state retested me to see if I had improved on the other scores. At this point my mother stopped doing anything to me at all.

It wasn't until I was almost 14 and was at my best friend's house that my friend decided that I should dress differently. I usually wore long dresses down to my ankles or pants, I exposed myself enough already and was somewhat shy about wearing skimpy clothes. My best friend let me try on some of her clothes and then gave me a short skirt and low cut top. I wore them when my mother picked me up from her house.

On the way home my mother was pissed. She started questioning me about the clothes. Why was I wearing them, why did she give them to me, did I change in front of her. When we got home she started accusing me of sleeping with my friend. Did you sleep with her? Did you take your clothes off in front of her? I kept telling her over and over again, no, no, no. She then said something that made me feel 8 years old again. "If you're going to sleep to with her, you can sleep with me too." That's when she sat down on my bed beside me and began to unbutton the top. I remember begging her to stop. "Please mommy don't, I didn't do anything." Needless to say she did it to me and made me do it to her. I thank god that there was only one other time after this.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed28

by Name Undisclosed
(California, USA)

Drugs always win: 
Since my brother and I were small children my parents have been drug addicts-eating/snorting painkillers, Oxycotin and other abusing other prescription drugs.

It got drastically worse when I turned thirteen. My mom was snorting cocaine on a regular basis and my dad was drinking and using meth every day. My dad would go through rages and cuss and yell at me constantly. One time I had to lock my dad out of the house because he was scaring me and when he broke back in he lifted me up off the ground by my neck.

Our house was a typical meth house-things everywhere, mess everywhere. My mom always slept. My dad stayed up for days at a time. I never invited people over because I was embarrassed about my parents and the condition of my household.

Now I'm seventeen and my mom injects meth and heroin into her veins every day. My dad smokes/snorts meth every day. My mom tells me her drug use is my fault because I'm a bad daughter. My mom tells me she hates me and that she is disgusted I came from her body. She plays games with my head, tells me that I'm stupid, tells me I'm worthless. She throws objects and food at me when she's angry. My dad has used so much meth that he hallucinates. He thinks that he has parasites and that there are bugs crawling under his skin and that there are worms in his brain.

My mom and dad refuse to go to rehab. No matter how much I cry or beg or scream they will not budge. Every time my mom and I fight she goes in the bathroom and uses. I'm afraid she'll OD and it will be my fault. I am afraid my parents will die. My fifteen-year-old brother and I are all alone in this because we are not allowed to tell our other family members.

This is a small portion of what my life is like. I don't have the energy to write everything...but the emotional abuse has been going on for almost four years now.

Sadly, my story is only getting worse. My mom recently got arrested for smuggling cocaine, meth and heroin into the American border from Mexico. I'm hoping that the government will force her into a rehab.

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Kaylee B

by Kaylee
(Arizona, USA)

Most people didn't think my home was that bad. There was never any physical abuse. But emotional abuse and neglect took a toll on my life. It all happened when my mom married my stepdad. I was four and I was happy for my mom. But over the years I learned that it was the worst thing that could have happened in my life.

At five, my sister was born. I had asked my mom and God for a sister and luckily my prayers were answered. I didn't realize it was that bad (the abuse) until this year.

Growing up, I felt I had loving and caring parents. When I started to go to friends' houses, I found that we were different. My parents hardly ever cooked, maybe once a week. Otherwise, I had to fend for myself. There was hardly ever real food in the house. It was hard to find something for dinner. I never ate breakfast, because my stomach hurt in the morning. I had lunch at school, which was pretty much the only meal I had. When I couldn't find anything in the cupboards or fridge, I just skipped dinner. I was hungry by the next day at school, but sometimes I didn't have lunch money so I went without food.

My stepdad would cuss at anytime he could. His words stung as he threw them at me. Lazy, Selfish, Stupid were some of the words he said. But he would add a cuss word all the time. He never seemed to cuss as much at my younger sister.

When I was 9, I found the real truth. Because I was always in my room, reading or writing, I hardly ever came out even for meals. My parents even stopped tucking me in by the time I was 7. So I went to a friend's house. I could stay the night. So when it came to dinner time, they called us in the dining room. They had cooked a meal and we were to sit at the table. I wasn't used to doing that. That day I realized my home life was way different than my friend's.

I was in fifth grade that year. I remember I used to just stay in class and read. My teacher noticed something was wrong when she walked in the room and I was crying. My parents had been sent to rehab for drugs and I had to live with my grandma. So she sent me to the school counselor. She helped me. My parents got back, they had missed Christmas, and they promised to be better.

But soon, it was back to the same routine. I was ignored mostly. My stepdad would yell at every little thing I did wrong. By this time I was terrified of him.

Once, when I was in sixth grade, I came home to my sister and cousins. Right when I walked in, they started throwing blocks at me. So I went in the corner, and when I found an opening, I threw a block. One block, and it hit my sister dead center of her head. She started screaming, she was gushing blood. She ran to our uncle and he came out screaming at me. "Get out of the house! OUT!! GET OUT!!!" was what he said. He was holding his rifle. I was scared to death, so I ran. It was May in Arizona, so it was hot. I didn't have time to put my shoes back on, just my socks. So I ran to the park and hid behind a wall in a constricted space. I didn't want to go home, because I was afraid my stepdad would react the same way. So I wandered for at least 3 hours, when I decided I should go home. When I got up from where I was sitting I felt something squishy on the bottom of my feet. When I finally got home, my stepdad was inside dialing. He saw me and freaked out. "You shouldn't have run!!! @#%^&$%^*(*^%$%^&**!!!!! I was just about to call the police!!!!" Shaking me. They saw my feet and they were badly burned as well as huge blisters formed. I couldn't walk; I had to use crutches at school. My teacher made me go to the nurse. She told the principal and he called 911! I was so scared I threw up.

I ended up being taken to the burn unit and they had to cut off the blisters. My stepdad blamed it all on me.

In seventh grade I went to the counselor and told her I had suicidal thoughts. I was tired of being alive. She called my parents and grandma. And I told them how I felt inside. Not long after that I did have them again, the thoughts. They took me to the hospital.

My grandma wanted to help me as did my parents. I started to go to a professional counselor and worked my way to recovery.

I am now 12 and living with my grandma temporarily. I am still going to counseling and working a way to be a family at home.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Vinnie

by Vinnie
(Ireland)

Still trying to move on: 
This will be the first time I have ever told what happened to me, although I did have some therapy when I was fifty years old. I attended the Rape Crisis Center.

I was about nine or ten years old when it happened. It was by a man who lived next door to my aunt. She used to make dinner for this man's father, who was blind. I was asked one day, to bring the dinner to him. When I got there his son was there, I think he was drunk. What happened to me that day has had a terrible effect on my life, and it all happened while his blind father was shouting at him. I am not sure how long it went on.

My life from that day changed. I was filled with guilt and shame. As time went on I felt very alone, different, unable to cope with life. My teenage years were full of depression, feeling ugly, unloved, unwanted, shame, guilt. I had suppressed all of what happened. I had absolutely no confidence in myself, and my twin brother forged ahead with his life. I know he was ashamed of me, but he did not know what happened to me. I was kept back in school while he went on to a different school. I felt so inferior to him.

When I started to work, I was prepared to put up with anything rather than change my job. I started to drink when I was 19 years old. I soon discovered that drink helped with my terrible feelings of depression, self hate, guilt and shame. In a very short time I was addicted, and my life fell apart. I had fourteen visits to hospital: eight times to a mental hospital, the rest getting pumped out after taking an overdose. One time I ended up in intensive care after an overdose. Another time I cut my wrists. I took several overdoses. I was in hell. I lay across my father's grave one rainy night on my way home from the bar. I begged him to help me.

One night as I was in my room, I felt I could not take anymore. I was scared of God. I felt He was going to judge me for all that happened in my life. I told Him that I could not go on, and asked Him to forgive me. I was at the end. I took a fistful of antabuse (a medication used in the treatment of alcohol abuse and alcohol dependence). I drank on antabuse before and knew the terrible effects. I woke the next morning confused. There were no feelings of gratitude, no feelings of God helped me, just more shame and guilt.

I am now sixty years young. I have not had a drink now for nearly twenty three years. I am still trying to come to terms with what happened and the consequences of that terrible day. As anyone who has been abused knows, there are very painful years of confusion and some are very hard to explain. Being alone with all the feelings, feeling different, feeling inferior all my life, trying to cope alone is horrific. I thank God today for His guidance. I still have issues that are hard to explain but I am slowly moving on.

Yours in Gratitude
Vinnie

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

Child Abuse Story From Asha

by Asha
(West Midlands, England)

From 1994 to 2000: 
I was born in a Muslim family and before me I already had 3 sisters. I was not wanted because my parents had wanted a son after 3 girls. Right from a young age I was picked on and hit. My other siblings also got in trouble but I seemed to take most of my parents' wrath. After me my parents went on to have a son, two daughters and another son. My father was well known and respected by all who knew him. I also looked up to him even though he never cared much if I existed or not. But one day he started caring, but for the wrong reason.

It was summer of 1994 and my mum had gone to Pakistan with our two younger sisters and she had left me, my sister and my brother in the care of my dad. He started by touching me and stroking me in all the wrong places. I knew it was wrong but I made my mind go numb and let him do as he pleased. After my mum came back from abroad, I couldn't tell her so he continued sexually abusing me every chance he got. Then at the age of 14 he beat me up in front of my other siblings and my mum, making up an excuse that I was getting out of hand but I knew it was because he had wanted to take me the whole way and I had refused on that day and locked myself in the bathroom until my mum got back from outside with my other siblings whom she always seem to take with her but leave me alone with him.

The next day my mind was all over the place. I couldn't concentrate and so in science class I told a male teacher Mr B about the abuse. Why I chose to tell a male teacher I will never know, but he took me to our head of year. Everything came out and a social worker was called. I told her everything and then I was asked if I wanted the police involved which scared me and so I said no. I had started behaving strangely at home, as I didn't know what the outcome would be, and so one evening just before the social worker came to the house to ask my parents about all I had said, my mum got my sister to ask me if everything was fine. I felt really touched and so told my sister about what our dad had been doing to me. Of course it never happened to her or any of my other sisters so she did not believe me. She told my mum and I was sworn at and called all sorts of names.

Then the day came when we came back from school and found the social worker I had spoken to with a Muslim social worker, as I had told her my parents did not understand English. As soon as my dad saw me he denied everything, but after a lot of talk the social worker told him he'd have to live somewhere else until they could get to the bottom of it all. He wasn't allowed contact with me, my siblings or my mother. As soon as the social workers left, my dad and my mum screamed at me saying that she wished I had never been born. I'd never much mixed with my siblings cause I'd always preferred being on my own, but when they all ganged up on me it really hurt.

Then after a while my dad came back, but he didn't touch me although he did cry to make the others feel sorry for him. Then they all started putting pressure on me to tell the social workers that I had lied, which is what I did in the end to get them off my back.

We then moved to another city but the records were sent over and we had one last visit from another social worker to make sure that I was doing the right thing and they told my dad that if in the future anyone reported him as sexually abusing them then he would face a jail sentence. After all this, I was naive to think it had all ended but the abuse started again, and on top of it the everyday bullying of my other siblings. I couldn't even turn to my own mother as she refused to believe me, so I let it go on until I got married at the age of seventeen and then I went on to have 4 children.

I confided in my husband everything that I had been through and for the first time someone took my side and he let my mum know that he knew everything and if ever my dad was to come near me again he'd have to answer to my husband, and later on I was also to find out that I wasn't the only person he had done all this to. People are very surprised when they find out how lightly my dad was let off, but I believe that one day the time will come when he will have to face all this and pay for his sins.

As for me, I suffered a lot but came out at the top and showed men like my dad that no matter what, they can never crush you or hurt you as deep as they think they can.

Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.

I No Longer Hate My Abusers

by Mrs R
(Ontario, Canada)

I was abused in every sense of the word from as far back as I can remember, a very young toddler and possibly earlier? The abuse was made by basically 2 members of my family. I ended up in mental institutions for nearly 3 years. Many years later after lots of therapy, getting married and raising 2 wonderful boys I am writing a book. But I am stuck on a part that I want to share about how I do love the 2 family members that abused me. It took me a long time to realize this because at the time I hated them and was very afraid and unhappy.

But family members of mine now and close friends do not understand why I love the 2 abusers today and not hate them.

Can I quote any answers pertaining to this in my book if any respond.

Thank You and I would like to congratulate you on all of the wonderful information that you have on your site :)

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Note from Darlene: If I have not left a comment on your story, please understand that it is not personal; it's just that my hectic schedule no longer permits me to do so.

I hope you'll follow me on:


Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Annie2

by Annie
(Ogden, Utah, USA)

From the day I was born, my mother had so many Huasbands and boyfriends, that I didn't know who my real father was at the time...but at age 6 my mother suddenly died. She was shot 5 times by her Ex Husband.At the time of her death she had a fiance.

This is where my story begins...her fiance was a child melestar, a week after my mother died, we found out that he was on the sex offenders list,so my grandparents put a restraining order agaisnt him,(i lived with them, because my father was in prison). After about 1 year living with my grandparents, my dad got out, and i got to go on visits to his house.I would always be so happy to see him and spend time with him,he would spend time with me, and love me, but the thing is, there was some one at his house that i wasn't supposed to see, It was my moms fiance, my dad and him were "DRUGGIE" buddies,so as i was over at my fathers house, my dad would let me and her fiance be in the same room for hours together,he would trade me, for drugs, and this abuse went on for years, until i was about 9 years old. Every time my father would drop me off at my grandparents house I would always cry,they didn't know why. they just thought that it was because i missed my father, but i would cry because i was hurting inside and was so little that i didn't know what to do!!!now that i am older, i have realized what went on and what i needed to do to over come this.

He has now been on the streets, for i don't know how long, and is probablly hurting others, But i go to court to testify against him in janurary, i'm not qutie sure how well it will go, but i am now 16 years old,and living with my grandparents again, i have done some things again, that pertain to sex, but i know now that what happened to me, when i was 6 wasn't my fault, and doesn't pertain to my life now, i sometimes get flashbacks about my abuse, but i have gone to counsling and over came my bad child hood...but i was sort of raped by my half sisters husbands stepfather, at the age of 15, i am now just starting to come out and face what happened to me again this time, and get my life back together again.

I have a boyfriend that loves me, even though i have gone through so much,i never would of thought that i would find someone like him...Thanks for reading my story! Thanks Annie

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Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.

Child Abuse Story From Amanda K1

by Amanda K
(British Columbia, Canada)

Honestly, it's hard to figure out where to start. I'm 17 years old now and it all began when I was only 6 years old. It started out as just touching and feeling, then gradually grew into more serious things. My mother would drive my father to his work and bring my little brother with her, leaving me alone with my older brother. Only because no one knew. He's only watching her for an hour, they'll be fine. Every night I would go into my room and sit on my bed and color. He would come in and ask what I was doing and I would tell him. He would slowly run his hands over my body and lightly push his hands down the back of my pants. I would freeze up, not knowing what to do. He would always tell me not to tell anyone or he would get taken away. I didn't want the brother I loved to get taken away, so I kept it a secret. I remember the first time he placed his fingers inside me I was only 7 years old. His cold slimy hands tracing my body and him doing things to me. Violating my body. Never having enough guts to tell. I felt sad and ashamed.

The "bath time" would start half a year later. My mom would drive my dad, and my brother would bathe me while they were out. He would place bubbles in the bath and slip into the tub with me, rubbing himself against me. I pushed him away one time and he slapped me across the face and told me that I had to do it his way. The next year was all the same. Only my father decided to get a job closer to home. We moved into a new house and this time I wasn't going to let him hurt me anymore. It stopped for about 2 months and I began to live a normal life again. I became happy and my grades in school went up. It was over, so I thought.

I had just turned 10. We had moved again and I felt that the haunting memories would leave and I would be all better. I guess I was wrong. My grade 5 teacher wondered about me because I wasn't associating with any other kids. I would work alone and act really weird. No one liked me in my class so I kinda fell out of the loop. My teacher said maybe she needs counseling. My mother said no way, nothing's wrong with her, and left it at that.

At age 11 I had just gotten settled in my new room when my brother walks in and closes the door. He moves my dresser in front of the door and closes the blinds. I didn't think anything of it until I realized it. He slid onto my bed and told me not to make any noise at all. He began to pull down my pants and panties and took off my shirt. Telling me to stand up and be quiet. He took off his clothing. I just froze, not knowing what was going to happen. He told me to lay on my bed, and I did. He whispered things into my ears and began to touch me. He told me that it would only hurt for a few minutes and then I would like it. I felt the stretch and my body begin to bleed. He began to go faster and harder. My eyes began to tear and I began to cry. He told me to shut up and hit me in the head, turning me over and getting a new angle. Once he was done he threw me a blanket and left my room. I felt dirty and abused. Ashamed at what just happened. Why didn't I stop it, I kept asking myself.

I just pretended it didn't happen, blocking it from my memories. My brother told my mother a week later that he just touched me and nothing else happened. And I began to go to counseling. I closed myself up and wouldn't tell anyone anything. I felt betrayed by everyone. I didn't know what to do. I didn't seem to have any friends at the time to talk to so I invented an imaginary friend named Amy. She helped me a lot.

Age 11-13. I thought it was all over. My counseling was over. My life was just beginning. I was close to my 12th birthday. I was excited and happy. I had blocked a lot of it out and it didn't really affect me a lot. So I thought.

About a week after my birthday passed, my brother told me how sorry he was for doing it and I said okay and just walked away. Later that night I heard my door creek and felt his hand go over my mouth. I tried to scream but I couldn't. He sexually molested me twice that night. He told me it was only the beginning, and that he would be back every night. It became a routine. Even when I had a friend over. He would create a game of hide and seek and I would be the seeker and when he saw me coming he would take me into the back room and molest me again and again. I would try and sleep over at my friends' houses more often but he would still find away to have sex with me. It hurt so much each time. As the days passed I got used to this fact of life. Maybe it was supposed happen this way.

Age 14. The end was near, I could feel it. I didn't know what was going to happen but I knew I had to do something about it. It was the last time he was going to touch me again. I wanted to grow up so fast so I could get away but it would never come quick enough. We moved into a trailer park near the lake, which was fine. I met some new people. There was this girl I met who seemed to have some interest in my brother, so I let it happen. They began to date and he started to leave me alone. It was a year later when he told her that he had abused me and she understood his circumstances. "He was abused when he was young and he took out his anger on me." It seemed to have finally stopped for good.

Age 15. The weeks grew on and the days passed I began to dig a hole and throw that part in. But every time I filled in that hole it would come back. I knew it was over for good. And I had realized it. I was continuously scared it would begin again.

Age 16-17. I still think to this day he'll come back and hurt me. I know he won't. It seems like when I meet someone new I wanna get to know them quickly and see if they have been abused to. I have found a few, and I'm really close to T and B. It's like the things you may not know may be better than the things that you will soon know. Life throws unexpected curve balls and you have to just get stronger. I have realized that a thing that happened when you were young shouldn't affect you when you get older if you don't let it affect you. You just have to look at it positively. I'm graduating this June 2010, I have a good paying job, I'm well liked, tons of friends, after high school I'm planning on going to collage to be a retail manager or a police officer. You have to learn to look at life from different angles and believe in yourself.

Believe in yourself and you will achieve. Miracles happen when you believe. If you follow a quote it can take you wherever you want to go.
Thank you for reading my story and letting me read yours. Just remember, do what you have to and do whatever you need to do to survive.

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Child Abuse Story From Arrie

by Arrie
(Location Undisclosed)

The Secret and Shame of Spanking: 
I grew up in a Christian home. Overall, I think that I was a well-behaved young girl. Mostly, my mother was a nice woman. However, when she finally becomes upset, she seems to go into a rage and she doesn't remember what exactly she says or does. She claims that she has no rage because she's Christian and Christians are supposed to give their problems to God. Yet, the rage is there. I've seen it.

Unfortunately, after the events, I feel as if I've been dreaming because she seems so serene, she's nice to people in public, and if any one brings up the events, she says that they are lying and that they are going to Hell. She says that God wouldn't stand by and let her abuse me without punishing her so I must be lying.

Yet, I can't get the events out of my head. I have never seen a psychologist or visited anyone who implants memories so I know that these things happened. Also, when I am in doubt, I look at the scar on my arm which validates one of the events. Mother claims to have no memory of when or how I received the scar. It's a very small scar, but the scars within my heart are much bigger. I wasn't a very bad girl, but when Mom would go into a rage over some minor "bad" thing that I had done, I received punishments that were greater than the deed.

Mostly, I received spankings and verbal abuse. These two things may not seem like abuse to most people, but when I'm crying in the middle of the night or having flashbacks, I know that something was wrong with the way in which my discipline was handled.

The first spanking that I recall occurred when I was about three years old. My sister and I were talking and laughing while Mother was trying to watch the news. She told us to stop, but something funny happened and we began to laugh again. She told my sister to give me a few swats on my behind and then told me to give her a few swats. These didn't really hurt, but the principle of it just didn't seem right at the time.

The next time that I remember occurred when I was four years old. I went to a class with my mother and she told me that I could draw with markers, but I was to be careful with them. I accidentally marked on the desk, my hand, and eventually rubbed it on my face. When she said "look at you", I started crying because I knew what was to come. Afterward, we went to a supermarket and she said that I was going to get a "whupping" for "acting up". The only thing that I was guilty of was not being careful with the markers and crying. Was this really a misbehavior for a four-year-old?

When we arrived home, I received a bare bottom spanking with her hand. Her hand didn't hurt that badly, but she continued to hit over and over again until it did. This is where the confusing part comes in. If I held in the tears and didn't cry during the spanking, she would go longer and harder until I cry. However, she would say that crying is "acting up" and she would continue until I would find a way to stop crying by holding my breath or something. Since I had asthma, I would then have a panic attack and would be told to stop gasping for air ("sniffling") or else I would receive another spanking. The only way to achieve this was by holding my breath until the attack suddenly stopped or holding my breath until I passed out. If I passed out, I was actually more fortunate because when I awakened everything would be normal again and Mother would be her usually serene self. Unfortunately, I only actually passed out about three times.

Another day, about a few weeks afterward, my mother gave me a black and white paper cartoon and said that she didn't want it so I could color it. Because she said that she didn't want it, I thought that I could do anything with it. As a four-year-old with an overactive imagination, I took the cartoon and tore it to try to make a puzzle. (I wasn't allowed to use scissors). I planned to color the pieces and try to put it back together. Unfortunate for me, Mother walked back into the room and caught me in the middle of my project. What she saw was scattered pieces of paper on the floor. She didn't ask me any questions, she simply yelled "Don't you ever tear up anything when I give it to you." I was yanked upon her lap and given another bare bottom spanking complete with all of the "aftermath".

I was once spanked because my sister told a lie on me. Strangely, Mother doesn't remember any of these events while I'm stuck having flashbacks and having to live with myself. My sister received spankings too, but not as many. The ones that she received were usually for more serious offenses such as lying. I received them for silly reasons which Mother deemed as "serious". Often, my sister was more creative and found ways to lie out of her spankings. I wasn't much of a liar, but I was called a liar many times.

When I was older, it seemed that Mother would look for reasons to spank me. Once, I told my mother that there was a piano piece that my teacher wouldn't let me play but I really liked it. Mother said that I should ask the teacher about it again. On the day that I went to ask about it, I noticed that another student in class made the remark "I wish I could play it". I felt sorry for her and I backed off so that she could ask the teacher for a copy instead of me (because only one student is allowed to study a piece at a time). When I told this to Mother, she said "I told YOU to ask for it." I said, "But she wanted it so I decided not to play it; there's another piece that I could play." Mother then said that I was "sassy" and pushed me into a sofa and raised her fist toward my face. She dropped her fist and left the room.

Mother has no recollection of this. She says that I'm a liar.

Several events such as this have happened in my life. I am not allowed to talk about them without being called a liar. My sister witnessed some of these events but she refuses to agree on either side. She pretends not to have seen any of it and is a very shallow, secretive person. My sister is nice, but very mysterious.

Many of you will say that these things do not constitute abuse. Maybe you are right. However, I know that something is wrong. I cannot tell my story in person or else I will be ostracized from the family. I walk around with a fake smile every day. No one knows how I hurt or why I hurt. I am very sensitive. I cry at the least unpleasant sensation.

If I even attempt to bring up these issues, Mother says that I am a liar who is influenced by the Devil. She screams loudly at me. Sometimes I crack and I scream back. I know that it's wrong, but can you blame me?

I can never tell or else I won't belong.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

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Child Abuse Story From Isis

by Isis
(Location Undisclosed)

Today for the first time in my life I saw myself without having to look in the mirror. Today for the first time in my 35 years of living I can embrace and/or release the good, the bad and the ugly about my life. For so long I embraced either all the good, and at times all of the bad, but now I know that life is a combination of both; not one or the other.

I am an adopted person. I have been a sexually abused child. My adoptive father sexually abused me from a very young age. I used to think that it started when I was around 4 or 5 years of age, but now I know that it happened when I was even younger than that.

He would force me to perform oral sex on him while he was driving, and he would manually penetrate me when no one was looking (very difficult for me to say). He would sometimes take me out of bed during these times. I have no idea where my mother was; but I remember him picking me up and packing me over his shoulder.

The abuse continued until I entered puberty (12) and then I said, "STOP, no more!" I guess a part of me felt that he would begin attempting to penetrate me otherwise. He had started "grooming" me for sex by telling me where the pornography was and by telling me about his sexual escapades and about sex between him and my mother. I could not talk to my mother about sex, so this was the only education that I received.

He used to tell me that I was special and pretty. From a very young age, he alienated me from my mother by telling me how awful she was. She and I already had bonding issues because of the adoption, and he just used that to win my trust. I hated her at times because of the picture that he painted of her. I hated her and loved her at the same time because I wanted so much to be close to her. Maybe she knew that it was happening and just could not face the truth; in retrospect, I feel that deep down she knew. There was a time that I recall telling her something while I was in the bathtub and I just remember that she scrubbed me so hard and with such anguish that tears came to my eyes.

As a child, I was told by both parents that I had an active imagination. On the contrary, I think that I have lost so much creativity because I am so focused on reality.

I remember the awful stomachaches, the nightmares, the trips to the doctor for unexplained rashes, feeling like I was crazy, breaking out in hives, urinating on myself in the 6th grade, sexually acting out with other children, and a host of other symptoms that until I sought counseling for later on in life were baffling to me. As an adult I tried drugs, meaningless sex, and other self-defeating behaviors. Before I went to counseling as an adult I would still urinate in the bed, sometimes because I'd have a nightmare and be afraid to get up.

I had to tell my adoptive mother or else I felt that I would explode. I was scared and alone. I was a 12-year-old dealing with grown up issues. She took me to counseling, but he denied the abuse so we stopped going. I think that this was the worst thing that ever happened because there was never any closure.

For a couple of years he blamed me and treated me in such a way that I felt even more rejected and lonely. My adoptive mother had no tools for coping with what happened. There were times that she told me she wished that she hadn't adopted me. She also has told me that the abuse is an issue "between my father and I." We went to church and school pretending. I was the perfect daughter and seen as blessed to have been adopted by such wonderful people.

To have no biological roots due to the adoption and to be treated in such an inhumane way as a child by people who claimed that I was special and loved has at times been much too much for me to bear.

I thank God for placing good people in my life, to counsel me and help me to heal. But I had to seek that help, nothing has come easy.

I still have a relationship with my mother. We talk on a daily basis. My father on the other hand - we rarely say anything more than "hello" to one another.

I have gone through all of the anger and I feel that I am making it full circle, but it is a journey. There have been times when I thought that I had forgiven them, and then I realize that I haven't. I rarely go to visit and when I do, my children are not subjected to staying at their home.

I have 3 kids of my own now and a husband. I can't say that it has all been rosy. In the beginning I was scared to death. I have now placed the blame where it belongs: on my adoptive father. For years I blamed my mother. I'm not saying that she doesn't hold some responsibility - but I believe in placing blame where it is due.

My journey now is one of healing. I am also in search of my bio family. I have lost so much but I have gained even more. I still hurt, I still feel empty at times - but now I know what it means to truly be a SURVIVOR! No longer a victim - but victorious!

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Isis" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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Child Abuse Story From Milton D

by Milton D
(Montreal, Canada)

Abused at 12: 
I was twelve years old when this happened to me. Carlyle, one of the teen councilors at the Center, was also a dealer in weed, as well as a musician and I trusted him implicitly. That was my first mistake. Going to his house to convince him to do a deal with us for the weed was my second mistake. Smoking the weed and passing out from the effects was my third and final mistake.

Let us start from the beginning shall we? I remember a group of us going to Carlyle's house looking to score some weed. We didn't have any money but we hoped that we could convince him to front us the dope. He welcomed us into his home and told us to make ourselves comfortable and offered us a glass of wine. We accepted his hospitality and tried to tell him about our proposal, but he kept changing the subject, all the while encouraging us to drink more wine.

We couldn't have been there for more than thirty minutes or so when I started to feel drowsy. Smoke had always made me tired or given me the sensation that if I just closed my eyes I would be all right, so that is exactly what I did. I mean what could go wrong. Was I not with my buds? Was I not with a cool adult? I remember vaguely hearing a conversation about the weed and Carlyle telling them to come back when they had at least half of the money. I remember my buddies trying to wake me, but I just couldn't seem to wake up. Carlyle told them to leave me until they got back with the money, and that is exactly what they did.

In fairness to them they did return in a short time. I know this because even though I couldn't move or open my eyes I heard the doorbell when it rang and I heard a conversation though I couldn't make out what was being said. I must have drifted off into a power nap because what happened next felt like a dream. I felt my zipper coming down and someone pulling out my penis, but I made no effort to resist. In my drug and alcohol induced dream I was about to be getting head from a beautiful girl. Then I felt the lips on my penis and she was giving me head. Just as I finished cumming my dream turned into a nightmare. Opening my eyes I realized what had just happened and was very angry and very confused. I pulled myself together and smacked Carlyle in the face.

I didn't know what to say so I just sat there giving him a disgusted with you totally kind of look. Finally he broke the ice and said, "Look kid I didn't hurt you, and you obviously enjoyed it, so what's the harm?" He almost had me feeling it was my fault, but there was something in his nervous grin that told me he knew he was in big trouble if word got out about what he did to me.

I told him to get me a glass of wine and that we needed to talk. As we were drinking the wine he told me that he was sorry for what he had done and that he would never do anything like that again. He begged me not to say anything to anyone and to please forgive him. "Forgive you?" I shouted, "I hope you burn in hell. The only way I will not say anything is if you quit your job at the Center tomorrow, and take no more work with children. If I ever hear that you are working with kids I will tell everyone what you did to me here tonight and you know what will happen to your black ass then you pervert." He agreed and when I showed up at the Center the next night I heard that Carlyle had left for the West Indies to further his musical career.

I never told anyone about that evening or talked about what transpired until I was a grown man with children. Although I still enjoy oral sex I find it impossible to cum. I hold nothing against gay men but feel uncomfortable when they come too close or touch me, even in the most innocent of ways. I know for a long time I questioned myself and wondered if indeed I did have gay tendencies. After all hadn't I cum?

This passed in time I think, but every once in a while I look back and wonder. Not whether I'm gay or not, because I know that I'm not, but simply about why I had cum. I guess you could say that that the whole experience left me with some deep emotional as well as mental scars.

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Child Abuse Story From Suzanne

by Suzanne
(London, England)

WARNING: CONTENTS MAY BE UNSUITABLE FOR SOME VISITORS: 
My babysitter sexually abused me from the age of 3 until I was 15. I am now 19 and at university in Cambridge. Recently a friend of mine told me that she was also sexually abused as a child and found it easier to explain her life by writing about it on a forum. Although I was abused by a man I should have been able to trust, I have never spoken publicly about it.

It started innocently enough. I grew up in London, England with my mum. I have never known my father. Mum just said that he left when she was pregnant. In order to earn enough money to pay the bills, mum worked pretty much all the time. During the week she did home secretarial work for a company, typing up letters, etc., and at weekends she worked nights in a call centre for an alarm company. This meant that I was babysat for by our landlord and his girlfriend.

In the beginning, he never touched me a great deal. Usually it was innocent stuff, like stroking my back and legs whilst I was cuddled up next to him watching TV, etc. As time progressed he became a little bit more adventurous with his stroking, but I was always used to him doing this so it didn't seem unusual.

During the day when Mum was asleep, the landlord's girlfriend would take me to the shops as well as swimming and the cinema. Quite often the landlord would also come with us and they seemed to enjoy playing at being parent figures. All this changed when I was 5. The landlord and his girlfriend had a big argument and she walked out leaving him on his own. Despite this, Mum was happy for him to continue babysitting me. Friday nights I would settle down and watch the TV with him. Saturdays we would go to the shops. Sundays we would go swimming or to some other fun activity.

The first couple of weekends, nothing serious really happened, but as he became more adventurous the intimate cuddling became more commonplace. The sad thing is I didn't know what he was doing was wrong. Whenever we went swimming, I used to share a changing room with his girlfriend who would help me change into my swim suit and dress me after we had finished. He continued to do this with me when we went swimming, but insisted that I never tell anyone. He would always dry me thoroughly from top to bottom before dressing me and then himself before we left for home.

By the time I was 6 he had started to sexually abuse me and was also videotaping the abuse. It started out simply by him rubbing me between my legs through my underwear. As time progressed he convinced me to take my underwear off but said that I could keep my skirt on, almost as if he was doing me a favour. Usually before the abuse he would set up his video camera.

At night I would get my bed clothes on and put on my dressing gown before cuddling up next to him on the sofa to watch TV. Usually I would fall asleep on the sofa and would wake up the next morning in the spare room. I found out later on that he would take more pornographic images of me as I slept. Soon after that he progressed the abuse to the next level. He set up the video camera before we left to go swimming. We spent the day at the leisure centre swimming and having fun like any kid would. This time as he dried me and dressed, he deliberately left my knickers off saying that was part of a new game. We drove home and went into his flat. He made me wait in the hallway before calling me into the front room.

He had the camera working and called me his little princess. He asked if I had a little secret to tell him, and from behind the camera he held up my knickers. Believing this still to be part of the game I giggled and said that I didn't have my knickers on. He got me to lift my skirt and show myself to him. I turned around, bent over and opened my legs as he told me to.

Going swimming etc without my knickers on became the norm for us. Each week he would progress the play a little bit further. One night as I returned to the front room dressed for bed, he stopped me as I walked in front of him. He undid my dressing gown and opened it up, lifted my nightdress and took off the knickers I had on for bed. Again he would stroke me on my vagina whilst showering me with kisses and compliments.

By the end of the summer holidays, just before my 7th birthday he performed oral sex on me. He was very gentle and I admit that I enjoyed it. He always bought me a little present to secure my silence and as a child I always came back thinking that there was nothing wrong with the games we played. Soon after he started inserting his finger into my anus and this lead to us starting to sleep in the same bed.

By the time I was 8 the only sexual activity left for him to impose on me was full intercourse. I didn't realise it at the time, but I had become fully sexualised for him. I was getting daring in the sex play. Mum would drop me off at his flat with my overnight bag totally unaware that I wasn't wearing my knickers under my skirt. I enjoyed this sort of freedom, it made me feel special and different, and as a child I loved being able to keep a secret from Mum.

For birthdays and Christmas he would always buy me 2 sets of presents. One that I could take home and show Mum, and another that was just to kept in his flat. Usually it was a sex toy of some description, which he would take great pleasure in teaching me how to use (which of course he would video tape)

Just after my 10th birthday I went down to his flat. By now I was going there on my own. He opened the door and let me in. I went into the front room and noticed that he had the camera set up and was pointing at a chair in the middle of the floor. He undressed me and posed me in various poses on the chair before inserting his fingers inside me and then getting me to perform oral sex on him. The whole time he made the abuse seem like fun and I giggled my way through it like I always did. What I didn't know was that he copied the tape and sent it to a group of his friends that he would subsequently invite to join in the abuse.

These friends joined us a month later and the occasion was marked by the loss of my virginity to each of them. The experience was traumatic and quite painful. Each of the men penetrated me and climaxed inside me. This abuse soon became the norm for a Friday night, I, as a 10 year girl being raped by three or four paedophiles.

This abuse continued until I was 14 when Mum and moved to be closer to my gran. I didn't realise that what we were doing was wrong until after it was far too late for me to realise that. By the time I had realised I was so sexualised that I accepted it as normal. I have often toyed with the idea of reporting the abuse to the police, but I am scared of the story becoming knowledge. I have never told anyone, least of all my mum. I am scared that she will blame herself for it as she was uncertain about me being babysat by a man at such a young age.

I hope that by writing my story through a forum such as this I can at least start to put the abuse behind me.

Note from Darlene: The volume of contributor submissions has now made it impossible for me to comment personally (especially in great detail) on each and every contribution. If I haven't left you a comment or one that is in-depth, please do not take my lack of a personal response as a slight, or as a statement that your story is somehow unworthy of my time. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be further from the truth. If there was a way for me to respond to all of you at length, I would.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.