Child Abuse Story From Youkina
by Youkina
(Pakistan)
Don't know how to overcome child abuse effects:
I am 31 yrs old, female, from Pakistan. I want to share my story, may be this will be a vent for me.
I was abused physically and verbally by my real mother almost every day. She used to beat me up to death, sometimes for petty reasons, like not helping her in household chores and playing with my siblings ( i was only 10 yrs old). she never beat any of my brothers and sisters but only me. After beating me up, she used to tell them that i am there enemy and they should never take me as a sister, bcz i have some evil plans in my mind. She convinced my father that i am a trouble maker and i have relations with boys and i am going to bring shame to thier family. He believed it word by word, and for another 5 years i suffered, but one day he came earlier from his office and he saw the whole thing, how she was beating me, kicking me and smashing my head with the wall. He started to take my side, but still never stopped her from abusing me.
I also tried to commit suicide. It was horrible. I was also sexually abused by my aunt ( my mother's sister) because my mother sent me to her mother's house when i was 7 months old and brought me back whe i was 10 yrs of age, then she started her part of the abuse. Also sexually abused by my brothers.
It was like living in hell, i wanted to die. My father somehow managed to send me to university, but i am in a country where girls can not leave home until they are married. so she used to beat me up until i got married ( i was 26 yrs old, when i got married).
In our society we have to maintain relationship with our parents, no matter what. But i hate that woman. I hate her guts. I dont know what to do? i still scream and shout in my dreams, i have terrible night mares. Most of the time i am fighting with her. I hate them all, but i dont know how to deal with it. I am harsh, depressive and have no place to talk about all this stuff. I am still afraid of her, and all of them ( my aunt, my brothers).
For timebeing i am living with her again as my husband is abroad searching for a job, so i dont know how to channel my hatred.
I dont know what to do.
A Victim
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Child Abuse Story From Mandy
by Mandy
(Indiana, USA)
My Child Hood, If you wanna call it that:
I do not remember much of my child hood years, Part because of all the abuse and part because I tried so hard to forget, and now only remember bad. My mother is and always has been a drug addict and alchoholic. She has 5 children, Her first when she was 14 and then one kid every other year until all 5 by the time she was 22. Her first child was from rape by her step dad. And that is where the abuse began in our life. She never knew how to be a mom, but for some reason kept having kids. I remember being traded for drugs. Raped so many times I cant count by drug addicts. I remember being beat so bad I couldnt walk and never recieving medical care, I lost all my teeth by the time I was 23 because I had an enamel deficiency, and calcium deficiency that were never treated. Now at 30 there are days when I cannot get out of bed because I have scoliosis, and Osteoporosis so badly. My child hood still to this day effects my physicall life. However I refuse to allow it to make me who I am. I am the mother of 3 amazing kids, I love them and would do anything for them. I did not hate my mother for all of the things that happened to me when I was a child because I did not know any better, it was just normal. I realised how wrong it was when I was 16 years old, and I gave birth to my first child. See the moment he was born and I heard him cry I knew that I would die to protect him. That is when I hated my mother, and I hated her with everything in me. I made a promise to my self and my son on that day June 16th 1997 that I would be everything my mother was not, and nothing she was. If I even make a face that reminds me of her it makes me sick. However I have forgiven her, 5 years ago I found Christ, and became a born again Christian. I have learned that I can forgive her and still not like the things she did. I talk to her on the phone and she has met my kids, that is as far as I can go to keep my kids safe, as she is still a drug addict and drunk. Out of her 5 kids I am the only one that does not drink or use drugs. I have never became addicted to anything in my fight to be nothing like her. I met my father when I was 21 after searching for years, just to find out that he too is a drunk drug addict, and that he was one of the boyfriends I remember from when I was young and he too abused me. But as a christian I was able to forgive him to, and he has been in my life for about 8 years now. However yet again he is not allowed to be over if he is drinking or drunk, to keep my kids from seeing. I realise however that my kids are spoiled and do not appreciate what they have because I am to easy on them. In unconscience fear that I would go over board if I ever did physically punish them. So now that they are older I am seeing the oposite damage I have cause in being to relaxed in thier punishments. I too am a survivor of abuse, and I must say that whe I hear of abused kids growing up to abuse it makes me sick. That is a lame excuse and at one point in life you have to learn to except that it is no longer your parents fault no matter how bad they were, once you become an adult it is now on you, stop making excuses and blaming your child hood, and take the blame and fix the problem, I will say that there are things I did not get to do and I did wrong because of the child hood I had but now it is my fault if those things havent been done, cause if they needed to be done then I as an adult should go back and do them. I dropped out of high school at 16 to have my son, and when I was 18 I went back and got my GED. I have never been a drunk or drug addict cause I choose not to be. I have fixed or am fxing my problems and not blaming them on my crappy life. There is a time in everyones life when you have to grow up and just take the blame. I spent years in and out of the Foster care system and suffered even worse abuse in foster care at times, and Because of that I obtaining at this time a license to be a foster parent, to try to help the kids that I can. So for all who were abused and are abused, you can live a different life, you have the choice to be good. You are not your parents. Get up and stop making excuses and just do it. You are exactly who you are supposed to be, and God knew you before you were born and that child hood you struggle with you should embrace for making you one heck of a strong person, cause I know that I am strong and I can handle anything with Christ by my side. You can too. I hope this helps someone some where, and Thank you for having the bravery to stand up and tell your story.
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Child Abuse Story From Cammy
by Camilla
(Cannberra, Australia )
I was 8 when my mother died of cancer. My dad remarried trying to make the best life possible for me and my three older brothers. I was happy that my father found someone to love again. My father, being the over protective person he is, went into the military and died when I was 13. This is when my step mom started drinking every night. The abuse started when I was 14 and refused to call her my mother. Every night was the same for me, she would throw me into my room then whip me and lock me in a tiny closet for days. She took favor over my brothers, so I was the only one being abused. I was suicidal up until I turned 18 and realized I could move out at the end of the year. So I did and my step mother followed. I'm not quite 19 yet and I'm in college with my step mom living close by. I still hate her and always will.
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Child Abuse Story From Lyndamaureen
by Lyndamaureen
(Pennsylvania, USA)
I was very hesitant at first to write my story, But I realize now that it will help me. My story begins before I was born, my father left and married my mother's sister. The large amount of stress that caused her sent her into premature labor, and I was born 6 1/2 weeks premature. I am the youngest of 7 children to a now single mother. My sister, the only other girl, hates me and always has. I can't remember most of my childhood, and my mom worked third shift all of my life. My siblings raised me.
Now, sister is 15 years older than me and no matter what I looked up to her. I wanted to be smart,beautiful, and an amazing mother just like her. To her I was none of these and never would be. When I was 10 T and her husband separated and she needed someone to watch my nephews for the summer, so my mom shipped my off to her.During that whole time I only remember one night, I called my mom crying because I had nothing to feed them. T got really mad and went off on me,yelling and hitting me, little did I know that drugs had slowly been taking over her life at that point.The end of summer came, and I was happy to go home. T and her boys moved back home too, and I was so excited, if only I knew what the future held for me I would have ran for the hills. The next 3 years were a living nightmare. I became the primary caregiver of my two nephews, and I perfered the physical abuse over the mental and emotional, because I knew the physical pain would go away faster. When I was 13 T went into rehab for drugs and alcohol abuse,and we needed to attend family therapy, where I was informed by her so called therapist,(exact words) "it is your fault that T is an addict". I was devistated. I continued to care for my Nephews the best I could until I was 18. I worked 3 jobs when I turned 16 to care for their needs. T has them so brainwashed , that now the don't even speak to me, and the youngest is agoraphobic,apparently this is my fault as well. I no longer speak with any of my family, but I have a happy life now,with two sons of my own, plus 3 step -sons and a beautiful step-granddaughter. My only regret now is that I am seriously ill, and I miss my brothers. I know that with prayer and time I will be able to handle it all without crying. I also know that I have my husband to help my when I am down, he understands why I do not want to see a counsler after what happened the one and only time I went to any kind of therapy. I know as I remember more and more about my childhood he will be there by my side to remind me that I am not at fault for this.
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Child Abuse Story From Ariana For My Boyfriend
by Ariana
(Location Undisclosed)
So I'm writing this for my boyfriend who is physically abused. My boyfriend lived with his biological parents when he was being abused from the time when he was 7 to 12. He's 13 now and was adopted by a 35 year old single mom. His biological mom whenever she was drunk of mad st or punch him. Once a week she grabbed him by his shoulders and threw him on the ground and kicked him before he even had a chance to get up. But then that became a regular thing. He plays basketball at our school and I'm a cheerleader for our school and we lost one game and my boyfriends mom came down to him after the game and tried to strangle him. She did throw him into the bleaches however, she tried to hurt him infront of his friends and even infront of his girlfriend. She broke 2 of his ribs and allowed him to suffer, he still has scratches on his neck and on his shoulders from her grabbing him with her nails his mom did whatever she could to hurt him. Even if it was telling him "you worthless, bast**d." Or "I don't know why I didn't just shoot you." But suprisingly, those are what hurt him the most. The words she said. All she ever said around him was cuss words. His first word he ever said even was "bi***" and I dont know how anyone could ever try to hurt him. He's so sweet. I love him more than anything in the world. I glad you like your new family, she seems so nice.
PLEASE READ:
I DID ASK MY BOYFRIEND IF I COULD POST THIS.
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Child Abuse Story From Alycia
by Alycia
(New York, USA)
Lost and confused till this day:
I was six when he started getting me dressed and changing my pajamas, but that was suppose to be normal, an uncle is suppose to love his niece not hurt her he came into my room at night and touched me untill i was 9 then he started kissing me in weird places and wanting me to do things, even when his friends came over he passed me off for money, and when i refused or fought back he hurt me more he beat me and did horrible things, and then one day it happen he raped me and it hurt so bad and i wanted it to stop but i couldnt scream i just couldnt people like him pretend to be intrested in u intrested in everything you have to say, and that one time u get comfortable u let your guard down for that one second And thats when they make there move but that first move leaves you confused with the is this right or is this wrong feeling the who do i tell and how feeling why me and is it gonna happen again.. He hurt dme untill i was 15 years old.. Im am now 17 living with my father.. And this silent help just isnt good enough no one knows this story i have never spoken of this story, till this day as he walks free if i so as speek of this .. He swears to take my life..
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Child Abuse Story From Joey
by Joey
(Providence, Rhode Island, USA)
At the age of 3 growing up in Massachusetts with 4 brothers and 3 sisters living in a poverty stricken area, my father a construction worker at the local teamsters union and my mother an immigrant from Portugal, I endured what has been describe by my psychologist and the most horrific case of child abuse he has ever counseled, I will try to make this short and direct, in 1969 while only 5 years old I had been the victim of a hit and run auto accident that left me clinically dead upon arrival at the hospital,
I sustained right brain lobe damage, I was retrieved at the hospital but on the critical condition, in and out of a coma for months at bosons children's hospital, my parents were told that I was not going to make it, and all that we could do now is (pray)
Some how I was able to fight for my life and survived, my parents were told that I would eventually be blind in my right eye and deaf in my right ear as a result of the brain trauma,
And not function as a normal child,
From the first day I arrived home from the hospital with my head still fully rapped in bandages my father lean over to me as my brothers and sisters were greeting my back home and whispered in my ear, "Don't think because you have those bandages on your head your not still going to get your beatings" and that was exactly what I was thinking,
Well the physical wiping and violent beating went on for 10 more years till the age of 15 when I finally stood up to that beast I called my father, the beatings and verbal abuse was an everyday event, you see my father had singled me out from all my brothers and choose to torture me for the simple reason that I reminded him of his father who had beaten him his entire life,
My father would openly tell me in my mothers presents that he hated me and didn't care if anyone knew it, by the way my father was 6'5 270 lbs with hands like stone, and to a small child that is a monster,
I can tell you that my father never broke me, he never broke my spirit, he crushed my heart and destroyed what ever love I had for him as a child, my childhood would forever be lost in a time a time that I will forever hold In horror in my heart and soul,
the damage of that relentless psychopathic torture will never leave my mind and forever imprison my childhood, remind my heart of how I long for my childhood and my innocence,
I have a beautiful 4 year old son who reminds me everyday of the beauty of having a childhood, he is my only son and when he looks up at me and says I love you dad, all the pain all the torture of my childhood abuse for that moment is gone,
You can never fully understand the horrific damage to a child of child abuse unless you yourself have walked in that child's shoes
Hope this story may someday save one child from the horrifying inconceivable act of child abuse.
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Child Abuse Story From Lorraine
by Lorraine
(Canada)
When I was about 8, my little sister and I were sleeping in the same bed. She was 4 years old. My mother had my 18 year old male cousin babysit us. My parents left for the night and when my cousin thought I was asleep, he crept in and began to molest me.
I was afraid to say anything to him as he was the babysitter for us but I was even more terrified he would touch my little sister who I loved and still love more than anything.
The next day I told my older female cousin with whom I used to play. She insisted I disclose it to my mother and I felt I was forced to. I did and she didn't say anything, I felt I had done something to cause it.
Many years later when she was in her 70's she recalled it and said I was not at fault. I wondered why it took her so long to tell me that?
I made sure, when I married and had children, that they would never have a sitter other than my sister or aunt who I trusted completely.
I can't stand watching anything on TV about abuse as I feel as if I am about to cry.
My mother was emotionally abusive to us and was horrid with my father. She continued that way until 20 years ago when I fianlly stood up to her. It is hard for a person to get over not feeling wanted or loved. But I knew my dad loved me and often said so though she tried to turn us against him.
Later in life, she confessed that she had had an 8 year affair with my first husband! I suspected it but now I was sure. My first husband died in '84.
That is my story....I know it's not as bad as some I've read but it was bad for me. Bless all who visit this site.
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Child Abuse Story From Tara
by Tara
(Kent, United Kingdom)
I have been raped by my three uncles from the age 13 up until 18. They raped me individualy, one of them kept on doing it constantly. He groomed me and i feel so ashamed. I didnt know it was rape at first as i was young at that time. As years went by i had led two different lives, 1. my life that i wanted to be and 2. the life that i had been raped. I had treated my previous boyfriends horrible, i made them upset and i had never showed my feelings. I destroyed them.
I never knew all three knew about eachother raping me until recently. When i told my mum 2 years ago she didnt want to know even though she had seen her brother had his hands inside my trousers twice from the age of 15-16. Y has she turned her back on me? She had been raped herself so i thought she would be more understandable. My two sisters didnt believe me and blamed me for mums health. Mum kicked me out. Ive got my boyfriend as support. I had never thought this would happen to me. Sometimes i feel like when me and my boyfriend argue he blames the way i were with partners in my past but i keep thinking to myself that surely we have to move on from the past and not keep dragging it up right? otherwise i feel like its gonna tear us apart and thats the last thing i want.
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Child Abuse Story From Kayley
by Kayley
(California, USA)
Emotional Abuse and the effects on me now:
Seven years ago my parents split up, and it's funny how after all my father said and did, I could still manage to miss him and love him. This is my story.
Every time I look in the mirror now, I see something ugly and disgusting staring back at me. Every time I look in the mirror I feel worthless, stupid and when something bad happens, I blame myself.
When I think back on my earliest memory, the first thing I remember is my father telling me I suck. I was three and it was my first time playing basketball. He told me my form was horrible and I would never make a shot like that. My father took sports very seriously.
Another memory that comes to mind is when I was four or five and I had had a horrible game in basketball. Normally after a game we got snacks but my dad told me I couldn't have any and that we were leaving. The whole car ride home he yelled at me. I don't even remember what he was yelling at me for, but I remember feeling like it was all my fault that we lost and that I should have done better.
The third memory that comes to mind is when I was in preschool and it was show and tell. My friend brought this really pretty barbie doll and all I had was some run down blanket. I remember when we went to wash our hands I took the barbie from her cubby. When I think back on that memory, I feel so guilty and bad for doing that. I also feel embarrassed beyond anything. That is one of the bad effects I am still trying to stop now.
These were just three times there were maybe hundred's of other memories just like these. But the effects they have on me now are holding me back. There are many effects that affect my daily life. For one, I have anorexia and that almost made me repeat 11th grade. I also self-harm, and got over substance abuse. I also have low self esteem, irritability, insomnia, trust issues, often I'm depressed or anxious, I steal things (not so much anymore but it was a big problem between the ages 3-9), I have suicidal thoughts sometimes, and I also lie which is still a big problem I have. Often I question my religion and my emotions are out of control. A lot of these were on the list of effects and I didn't even know (some of them I didn't know) they were effects.
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Child Abuse Story From Louise
by Louise
(Tennessee, USA)
I'm nearly 30 years old now, but still nowhere near over my childhood. At the age of 9 my father died and my mum fell depressed real bad. She got into drugs and alcohol and began to get VERY abusive. She'd lock me in myroom if I turned the telly on or continuously push me over if I didn't eat the massive plates of dinner she served me. She began going out and leaving me for 2-3 days, I wouldn't really eat anything and go to school with dirty clothing from the day before. Then people started bullying me, saying I smelled and was a 'tramp' I didn't know but by this point I was depressed and had an eating disorder.
When I was 12 I was diagnosed with anorexia and weighed only 83 lbs!
18 years on I'm still left with scars from self harm and will NEVER forget my mother who was amazing until the sad loss of my father. R.I.P to my mother who overdosed around 10 years ago I will never forget my loveable parent. I see a councillor 2 times a week and still recovering for anorexia but making great progress.
I like to share my story to help others with any of the above issues just to say that it does get better! : )
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Child Abuse Story From Franny
by Franny
(Location Undisclosed)
I read some of the stories and they are really horrific making me feel that my "problem" was petty. And before you read this I just want to say how strong some of the other kids are for having to put up with in-justice.
Anybody who first sees our family probably thinks we're perfect. My father is the man of the house who works to provide us with all the products we need. My mother is a stay home mom taking care of my younger sister. I'm 13 and everyone sees me as the pretty smart girl, my brother is known for his athletic talents and my sister is cute and musically talented. The word "perfection" crosses lots of peoples minds. But ironically enough its perfection that brings us down.
I can't really remember when it started to happen I believe my whole life. My mother hits me (usually slapping) most of the time to the ground and then kicks me, she also throws things at me, pulls my hair and pinches me. That usually happens when I did something to displease her like not tidy up well enough or I didn't get the best grade or a good grade. The other thing she does is scream at me and call me things like "wh**e" or "dirty" telling me things like I'll get a boyfriend who will hit me and abuse me or tell me that I ruined her life and that she hopes a kid would start to bully me. She even sometimes threatens to kick me out of the house if I keep screwing up. I have two younger siblings who she also screams at but not as much as me. She also gives me a cold stare if I don't say hi to someone we know or say thank you or your welcome or thanks for having me or doing bad in a tennis or swimming competition. Right now I lost my bike because I forgot to lock it and my mother is ignoring me only saying something to snap at me or giving me the cold shoulder.
I think it's brave that some of the people got out of their situations but I don't think I can because my father works a lot at his lab and he comes home very late and tired and we just moved to a foreign country with a foreign language so all my friends are back in the states so I'm pretty much alone.
-Franny
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Child Abuse Story From Staying Strong Britt
by Britt
(Texas, USA)
It wasn't until my sophomore year of high school (two years ago) that I started remembering things that happened to me in the past during my childhood. I have always remembered the touching and other little abuse, but never the more horrifying abuse. It's really scary to have to go through them again and again. I'm remembering new ones every week. I absolutely hate it. It's so hard to accept these things that have happened to me.
My story starts at the age of 4, I believe. I was at the beach for Thanksgiving with my dad, grandparents, and more family. It wasn't until recently I remembered everything for this particular event. I always knew something happened, just not who it was, what all happened, and other small things like that. It only lasted a short time, but it was awful. My great uncle was the abuser. No one really likes him because he is a little creepy. He came into the room I was in and closed and locked the door. Then, he came over and started touching and kissing me. I told him to stop and leave me alone, but he wouldn't. He took my shorts and underwear off and then got on top of me. The words he said to me always haunt me..."this will only take a few minutes". And then he raped me. I never told anyone except my grandfather...who was also abusing me, but I didn't know he was. He told me only he was allowed to touch me...no one else. You see, ever since I can remember, my grandfather was touching me and having me touch him and give him oral. But the thing is (and I absolutely hate this), I was willing. It wasn't that I wanted to or got excited about it, it was more of me wanting to see him happy. Every time he was upset, he'd either come to me or I'd ask him...I didn't understand what I was doing. But when he was happy, I was happy. So when I told him, he didn't do anything...he only told me that he loved me, that everything was going to be okay, and that he promised he would never do that to...but little did I know, he would never keep that promise.
At the age of 5, or early 6, my grandfather raped me for the first time. I told him no...but he did anyways. It was literally a push in, stay there, and then pulled out and stopped, but it still affected me. This changed everything for me. I never looked at him the same. I never wanted to be with him, but I was forced to. I was scared of him and hurt by his action. He broke his promise to me...that hurt more than the pain.
I was still the same age when he actually raped me. He waited a few weeks to do it again. And when he did, my love for him started to fade. He continued to rape me here and there, but it was mainly touching and oral. Him raping me did become more frequent, though. Despite how hurt I was, I still didn't understand that it was wrong, just that it was painful. So I never told anyone.
At the age of 6, my mom took my older sister, who is 10 years older than me, to her friends house. They were gone for an awfully long time, though. My mother was a drug addict, so I assume she was out doing drugs with someone. She ended up leaving my younger brother, who is 3-1/2 years younger than me, with a guy we never met before. It started with my brother and I fighting over legos. He got angry when we were yelling. So he put us in time out. He said if we were good, we could watch tv. I ended up being able to sit on the couch first, and in the process of me getting on the couch to watch tv, I stuck my tongue out at my brother to say, "Haha. You're still in trouble". But he saw me and told me to go to my sister's room. I was scared. He told my brother to get on the couch, watch tv, and don't move, then turned the tv up really loud. He came into the room, closed the door and forced me on the bed. He ended up brutally raping me...all because I stuck my tongue out at my brother. Again, I never told anyone, despite the limping and the pain I was in for days, the blood spotted panties, and the stinging of the pee when I used the restroom and of the bath water and soap. Of course, we never saw him again...
At the age of 8, my siblings and I were living with my mother in an apartment. My sister's friend was always there. I grew quite close to him. I looked up to him, I loved him, and I trusted him. He made me smile, laugh, feel safe, protected me from my mother's harm (she use to beat my brother and my siblings, of course I got the worse of it...I sacrificed myself for my brother), and he loved me. It all started a long time after we met. He began to touch me, and that's when I knew things might get bad. But the touching was gentle, and he made me feel like I was doing something right. He too, just like my grandfather, made me feel happy about making him happy. That's all he made me do...I still never thought of it as being wrong. So my trust never went away...until he actually went too far and raped me. It was in my mother's room. I was only watching tv when he came in. Of course, I wasn't expecting anything bad to happen. Just touching. And when I made him happy, that's when he decided to rape me. I screamed and fought back, but he was too strong...I ended up giving up and letting him hurt me because of how exhausted I was from fighting back (I literally used all my strength for over half the time he hurt me). When he was done, I couldn't move. My trust was gone.
He continued hurting me, making it a daily basis. You see, he was also my babysitter. He had so much time to spend with me. So when he raped me, no one was home except my brother...so no one was there to save me. He became very mean. He stopped protecting me and I never smiled or laughed when he was around. He was the worst out of everyone who hurt me. He began to bind my hands together or tie me to the bed, he suffocated me, he beat me, he brutally raped me, both vaginally and anally. But each time he finished, he'd say, "I love you, (my name). Remember that." Those words will never leave me. Even though he did these things, I still loved him because of that...I actually thought he loved me. He was like a father to me. I looked up to him. I didn't know what else to do. I never told anyone he was hurting me...
At the age of 9, he died...suicide. I felt free, but I also felt lonely. I was happy he wasn't there to hurt me, but extremely sad because he wasn't there at all. I missed him, despite all the pain he made me go through. He was the only person who gave me attention...it was bad attention, but it was attention. I still loved him...and I starting wishing he was still alive, even if he was going to continue to hurt me.
After his death, we moved into my grandmother's house. I thought nothing else bad was going to happen. I began to be happy again. It was when my mother starting dating this guy that things started all over again. He raped me for the first time in the pool. He too was a babysitter. So he had a lot of free time on his hands. He was rough and it lasted for months. And the very last time he raped me, it was brutal...I can never forget everything he told me. Again...I never told anyone...
To this day, my father has custody over my brother and I. We've been living with him and my stepmother for seven years now. My trust for anyone is hard to give. I so feel ashamed, embarrassed and guilty for the things that happened to me. I fight these demons everyday. It is hard to do, but I do it. Many times I've contemplated leaving this earth, but I always have my two good friends there for me. They know everything. They love me for who I am. And I love them so much. I'm so very grateful for that.
It is hard for me to understand why everything happened to me...I wish I knew the answer to that. I feel dirty every time I think about everything. I feel like I could have done something, that I almost deserved it because I never told anyone. I don't know...it's hard. But I'm trying. I don't want to give up. I want to be truly happy. One of the hardest things to get over is that my female doctor told me I have so much scar tissue from so many incidents...and because of that, I will probably never have kids of my own...that upsets me the most.
Thank you for allowing me to share my story. It really helps to get things like this off my chest.
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Child Abuse Story From Jason
by Jason
(Illinois, USA)
I was always nervous or afraid. I was afraid that I would be accused of doing something. Teachers liked to embarrass me and get me in trouble with my mom. All the people at school hated me. Even people that said they were my friends hated me. I was scared to get up to get a tissue to blow my nose. I hate the counselor at school. She made me feel like I did something wrong. The time I spent with her didn't do anything. Why did the school make me see her? No one ever asked me if I was happy or if I was sad. It made me hate myself for having problems. My grandmother yelled at me all the time. She had a guy rent a room and he yelled at me too. They hated me so much. She used to yell at my sister until she cried. They knew my stepfather was sexually abusing us and it made them hate us more. They laughed at us and I know everyone at school knew. I don't know why me and my sister and my mom were treated so badly by our family. Everyone loved to hurt me. No one that was my age wanted to be my friend. I just want to know what the reason is that I exist. I always felt bad. I can't remember huge periods of time but thats because I spent all of my life alone or in pain.
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Child Abuse Story From Devonte
by Devonte
(USA)
For as long as I remember i had the best dad ever. I was the only child, he would take me to Laker and Charger games on a regular basis. He did stuff like wake me up at midnight on the weekend and take me out to 7/11 for slurpee's and candy and we would eat/ drink in the car. He was like a big kid, on my 6th birthday I loved my jumpcastle so much he paid for me to have it, he even blew it up in the house once. We had it for four years and we weren't rich by any standards. He owned a garage company and my mom was a correctional officer. But he still did everything for me. He told me he loved me every day. He trained me in basketball for all night if I wanted to. One of my earliest memories is being about 4 and he was in the barber shop making a fool out of himself so I would stop crying from my first haircut. We were inseparable, we used to take long bike rides, he even had me in the LA marathon when i was just 8. He taught me everything. He coached my basketball team, taught me what to do when i liked a girl, helped me understand my times tables. Even teaching me them up to 15 instead if 12 so i could have an edge. I couldn't have asked for a better dad.
But there was a downside to him. For as long as i remember everynight my mom pulled a double (which was a lot) my dad would sexually molest me. Normally oral on my feet, anus, nipples and penis. It was normal for me, we called it "secret agents." When i was around 8 I asked right in front of my mom if we could play tonight (as a kid I liked playing, it was all I knew.) I remember my mom seemed curious but didn't suspect anything. That didn't stop my dad from telling me if i ever told anyone he would go to jail, and i would never be able to see him again. This terrified me as i loved him so much and felt like i would die without him. I never told other than professionals and my Mom until today.
I started puberty at around 12, my dad would tell me I'm getting older and should focus on girls now. I had grown out if it anyways and was smart enough to know I was being molested. I talked to my dad about it but he would just say its just part of the way he loves me. He convinced me that it was no worse than a mom putting her daughter in beauty pageants. He told me in some ancient and present culturals it wouldn't be taboo at all. And now even as an 18 year old college student I can't shake those beliefs. I hardly feel abused, I just feel like everyone is trying to make me feel abused. I do resent my dad though.
Around when i was 13 my dad was arrested. He was part of a child porn ring online. They found floppys in our garage with tons if stuff. My life as i knew it was over. I confided in my Mom after she broke down in tears asking me if i was ever touched. I trusted her but she told. I denied, denied, denied. Last time ive seen my dad he told me its not my fault and he's sorry. I don't think he meant sorry about the molestation, I think he was sorry for getting caught with illegal porn and not being able to be there for me anymore.
I hated him for that. I hated my life without him. I hated seeing the psych. I quit basketball. My grades dropped. I started stealing cell-phones, and cd players just for fun. I got 2 girls pregnante 2 times and convinced them to abort both times. As a kid i was in GATE, I was ranked nationally in said basketball. I always dreamed of being a Bruin (UCLA) and it was a realistic goal. Now I'm in JR college, I'm barely getting back in basketball shape I feel like my dad ruined my life. Legally I can see him now. I've talked to him now but I've only spoken to him a few times. He always brings up "the good ol days" which just makes me sad. He did convince me to start playing ball again and to get in to a junior college. But I feel like he molded me like clay to think and act like him. I wonder if i would do the same to my son if i ever have one. I have a male cousin but am repulsed to even think of him as a sexual being. But will it be different with my son?
I'm just down today I guess, normally I'm fine. I just resent everyone. Cps, my mom, the FBI, my dad, myself. I know if my dad stayed in my life I would be much more accomplished. Yet what he did was supposedly so horrible. I'm really confused till this day.
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Child Abuse Story From Katie For My Brother Damion
by Katie
(Minnesota, USA)
This really isn't my story. but i was a witness of the abuse my little brother endured. I can't say any actual names, so lets just call him Damion. At the age of 3 he was diagnosed with Autism Spectron disorder. So his mind doesnt work the way ours does. He got into a lot of trouble as a young boy. But he didnt know any better. His mother (lets call her Jenny) started hitting him whenever he did anything bad. Damion was never really toilet trained either. So that was a big part of it. every time he had an accident, he'd get hit. Over time he got older, and the hitting turned into beating. Belts, chains, anything that could hurt, he was tortured with. by the time he was 8, Jenny would lock him in the basement for hours to days at a time. not feeding him more than once a day. no bathroom. so he would have multiple accidents each day. couldnt change his clothes much either. All of that caused Damion to have a major bladder infection and UTI. He had been in the hospital so many times for those.
eventualy, dad started hurting him. beating him relentously. A few times i had become part of my brothers torture. i was told to help my father pin Damion down and hurt him. Thinking back, i feel so bad for my baby brother...he was only 4 months younger than me. I have thought how i could ever make it up to him. Only knowing i need to love him and never hurt him again.
By the time Damion was in 7th grade, things got even worse. The sexual abuse began. His mother started locking him in the basement for other reasons. A matress was brought down. Randomly on days or nights she would bring him down there, doing countless sexual things to him, and forcing him to do things to her. She started touching him in wrong ways wherever they were. Beating him if he refused. And he never understood any of it. Why it was happening. Or what he should do. He only knew that he didnt like it and that it hurt. Bad.
Even our father would hurt him. Physically, sexually, and emotionally. Calling him names. saying things that really dug deep into Damions mind.
Honestly i could not even tell you all the things that had happened to him day after day. Theres just too much that my little brother has been through. But he is a survivor. And i love him so much. I admire him for the fact that even through all that torture, he could wake up every single morening and go to school. Smile at everybody. and not a single word was said about any of this. Nobody suspected a thing. Not, Damion is in 10th grade, living with our 18 year old brother and me. He is a happy boy. Doing so much better than before. Even though he has some major set backs. he is a special ed student but works very well with hands on things.
though, he still has many hospital trips because he has premature lungs, and cannot breath too well at times. he uses an inhaler. Because of all the major abuse, he has the personality of both a 2 year old, and 16 year old. He still has many nightmares, reliving that horrendous abuse inside his mind.
But i must give credit to the people who have helped him the most. people who have shown him love. and the proper way to be treated. not abused and tortured.
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Child Abuse Story From Someone Who Doesn't Want To Be Found
by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)
My mother and father had eight children. I was the second oldest, but my older brother ran away at age six and never came back. I don't know if he's alive or not.
My father used to be a normal person, according to my mom, but he started drinking when he lost his first job due to making some error in a report. That's understandable, I guess, although I would never admit that to him.
My mom ran away when I was ten. I had to take care of six children, three boys and three girls. My father...he went to work sometimes, but mostly spent his days in clubs and bars, only to come home at three in the morning, in a drunken haze.
I resorted to stealing food from the store, doing others' homework for money and trying to survive for one year.
My siblings were pairs of twins. Two were eight, two were five and two were newborns. I had to buy diapers and feed them, try to keep the babies alive while attempting to give my siblings a true childhood.
I dropped out of school at the age of eleven and instead of doing homework for money, I stole and sold things in the playground, sneaking into school premises. I forged notes saying that I was home schooled. I borrowed books from the library and read about things, just so I could pass the tests and keep up my "home-schooling" charade.
My father, you could say, was a match for me. I hope I seem kind and mature in this story, but truthfully, I'm not. He beat me when I was a smart-a**, but I fought back. I punched and kicked and never let him win.
When he beat my siblings, I learned to not beg for him to stop, but pull him off them and throw him against the wall. When he assaulted my sisters, I would grab them and lock them in their rooms so they'd be safe, turn and punch him in the face. He rarely took me on, after I turned 13, but I still have those scary memories.
I wasn't malnourished and neither were my siblings, because of how determined I was to keep them alive, no matter if I had to beg or borrow or steal.
There were slip-ups, when I wasn't at home or when he seemed unstoppable. Those were the scariest moments of all.
I was a rude and mean person, some one who cared only about her family and no one else. I wasn't skilled at talking to people at all.
Then HE came. A boy my age moved on to my street. I met him when I was picking up the mail. At first, I hated him. I was suspicious and paranoid, thinking that he would hurt my family. However, one of my sister's became fast friends with him and soon, my entire family loved him like a brother, except for me. The once-newborns, now five, adored him.
I warmed up to him slowly over the course of one year, and by the time I hit my sixteenth birthday, we were in love. He cared about me and still does, to this day. We invited him over for the first time in over a year and when he realized what was going on with my parents, his family reported us to the police. My father was taken away and my ENTIRE family of seven was taken in by a wonderful couple nearby.
My life was behind me and now I am 17. A---, the boy who saved us, is standing behind me as I type this in his room and he's smiling at what I'm writing. I'll never be a child. I'll probably always be an angry person, someone who's over protective and paranoid. I'll never feel comfortable around grown men. I'll never feel okay about having sex, which I haven't and don't plan on ever doing. A--- respects my space which is something other child abuse survivors deserve: respect. Finally, I have hope. And I hope you all do to.
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Child Abuse Story From Jujuforever For My Mom
by Jujuforever
(Location Undisclosed)
this isnt really my story, its my moms. she was neglected as a kid. she always talks about how her mother couldnt feed her because her husband spent the money on beer and suits and drugs. they didnt have anything. when grampa died, gramma got married to another man who had 2 sons who were slightly younger then my mom. this grampa was better. mom says hes the one she thinks of as "dad". but his sons would be her up and take all of her stuff and be really mean. im not sure if this counts as child abuse though. my mom was also raped as a child by someone (she wont talk about it) and abused by a pastor only a few years ago. he beat her up.(I KNOW CAUSE I SAW THIS!!!!) she has deppression a lot. I DONT KNOW HOW I SHOULD HELP HER!
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Child Abuse Story From Mena
by Mena
(Location Undisclosed)
I'm not sure where to begin from. I ended up here a few months back after a random search on the internet. It caught my attention because I intent to study psychology next year at the university.
After reading a few stories I remember an incident that happened years ago and I realised that I too have been abused, although I never had thought of it that way up until now. I know that my story is not as bad as other stories but it's been bothering me for a while now, especially before I fall asleep.
My mother worked as a private secretary in an office of an old building. In the office next to her worked a man around his forties who repaired clocks. He was always super nice with me and entertained me by showing me the tiny mechanisms in his office. My mother worked there for many years (since I was around 4) and I never had a problem with him. In fact I quite liked him.
But then one day (I was older maybe 11) while I was walking around outside the offices he came suddenly from behind, grab my hand, pulled it and made me touch him. I was shocked but he almost immediately let me go. I distanced my self a little and I considered going back to my mother's office but I didn't because she was talking with her boss who happened to be there and she had told me not to bother her. So I just walked around without looking at the man who assaulted me. After a while he did the same thing only this time he wouldn't let me go. I pulled my hand hard but he was stronger and my wrist hurt. Fortunately, another lady who I think had something to do with jewelry walked out to the hall , probably to go to the toilet, so I was finally released. After that I went back to my mother's office and sat next to the fridge. I remember I wanted to cry but I didn't.
From that day on I was very careful. I stopped going to his office and never went too far away from my mother. If I ever met him outside the offices in the corridor I always glared at him and stayed away. However there were several other times when he manage to grab me. He always did the same thing: put my hand on his crotch. He never tried anything more. There was one time when he offered to take me to the kiosk nearby to buy me an ice-cream. Mother agreed but I said I didn't want to. I felt proud because I thought I was able to protect myself better than mother could protect me.
A year later the office in which mother worked for closed so she went elsewhere and I didn't have to deal with him. I still see him in the street but I don't greet him.
Now that I think back, I believe this is the reason why I'm the way I am now. I don't trust people, those around me say that I have an intimidating barrier around me and they feel they cannot approach at all. Also I hate to be touched even by people I'm close to. I just feel I need my personal space.
I have never said anything to anybody and I never intent to. It's not like I'm suffering and I do not want to worry them for no reason. I said a lot more that what I intended to, I guess I had to talk about it without burdening somebody.
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Child Abuse Story From Lisa
by Lisa
(Location Undisclosed)
When I was a little girl my mother beat me with a bamboo cane, I only remember from age 4. Then at age 13 she put a knife in my throat and threatened to kill me if I didnt wash my plate right away. My mother and father took what ever money I saved from babysitting. My mother was famous for telling me how I will suffer when I get old, which used to scare me. I have finally cut ties with them but not completely because I feel guilty for being a bad person.
My father has beaten me with a metal chair until I was bleeding because I had friends over when he asked me not to, the reason behind it was that I had to watch my twin brother right after school and couldnt go outside and be a kid. I was basically responsible for their kids. He never calls me on my birthdays, if he needs money he use to call me. But I stopped giving him money.
I have always had trouble with relationships.I tend to stay in abusive relationships.
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Child Abuse Story From Kala
by Kala
(Tennessee, USA)
When I was 14 my parents divorced and I moved with my mom who only 2 months after her divorce was final was married to my step dad. She was 56 at the time and he was 37. He had a daughter and my mom always compared me to her "why can't you be like your step sister? why can't you go to parties like her and be a cheerleader and be skinny and have lots of friends?" my step dad would physically abuse me and my mom both. He would lock us outside at night in the cold and if we were hungry he'd throw all the food out of the fridge so we couldnt have anything to eat. He would throw me down on the ground and punch me in the face chest arms and stomach areas. At one point my mom even watched and done nothing. Then one night I went to bed and I woke up in the early morning hours around 2am and he came out of the bathroom naked. He looked at me and said "that was good!" my pj bottoms were down and my panties felt weird. I told my mom and my mom said I was a liar and kicked me out saying "i don't know where you'll go but i don't care either just get out he doesn't want you here and I don't either!" The abuse went on until I was almost 18. The verbal abuse still happens everytime I'm around my mom or him. That's 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 Marissa
by Marissa
(Pennsylvania, USA)
My brothers and sisters and I were born in California with my brothers and sisters and my other family. My birth mom delivered nine kids. We are all one or two years apart.
When I was nine years old I took care of my brothers and sisters by myself without any help I had to take care of five toddlers and two newborn babies and all had diaper rashes all over their butts, but I had to do it or who would take care of them? I did not go to school a lot. We were poor we did not have anywhere to take showers we lived in a one bedroom trailer Park. It was not good at all and the house was dirty and had dog hair all over the floor. My birth mom did drugs (and still does drugs.) My birth dad was not really in my life because he was on Megan’s Law so I wasn’t able to see him without other grown ups. It makes me feel really hurt that I don’t have my real parents to call mom and dad anymore but now I have adopted mom and dad who cares for me and brothers and sisters and I can call them my parents.
Three years later my brother and sisters and I went into foster care. My Sister and I went to three different foster homes and the other five went to a different home. My brothers, and my other sister they went to one foster home and they stay their. My brothers and sister that were in one were getting beat up and the foster parents were doing a lot of other things to them it was horrible.
Finally, my brothers and sisters and I got adopted and moved to Pennsylvania. My brothers and sisters and I have two other brothers and we adopted them too. My brothers and sisters are all together finally I am so happy that we ALL got adopted together and did not get separated. It’s been five years since we have been adopted and every year we have a party to celebrate that we are all safe and all together. My birth mother is still doing drugs and living on streets. My adopted mother is a great mom she has two kids on her own but she stop on the second child and wanted to adopt and she also helps us to become strong and do things when we get older. I hope I do not end up with my birth mom again. I found out my birth mom might be pregnant again with her tenth child. I said “I hope she is then I have another brother or a sister and then again then “I said I hope she is not having a baby because she doesn’t even take care of herself and how is she going to take another kid if she gave a way all her other kids and she is not pregnant thank god.” My life today is a lot different because I can go to school and take showers when I want and have a house that I don’t have to worry about what happens to me next like in California. I have a mother and father that take care of my brothers and sister and me. I hope I don’t end up like my birth mom and dad. It makes me feel happy when my mom and dad say, “They love us. “ I hope that I can learn from my past that happen and not go back to it because I said when I turn eighteen I’m moving back to California. But now when I think about I don’t want to. I learned about my real mom and grandma they are people who make mistakes. My real Grandma let my birth mom drop out when she was in eight grade and she had me when she was 15 years old and my adopted mom does not want me to be a teen mom. I also learned that don’t count on your parents when there doing drugs. It was a hard lesson. I remember when my grandma and my mom would always fight and always bring me in it all the time and one day they were getting into a fight and my grandma stabbed my mom with a fork and I cried and also my mom would come for money and then leave and I will always chase after her all the time. It was a bad life back then. It’s nice to be adopted now.
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.
LonelygirlUK
by Name Undisclosed
(UK)
I am 27 years old, and have a successful career. I feel like a fraud posting here as I am not sure whether or not my experiences constitute as abuse.
As a child and into my early adult life, my mum would hit me.
She would restrain me by grabbing my wrists together, hold me against the wall or couch and start punching or slapping me.
I could not predict when this would happen and sometimes it came as a complete shock. One day I could say something that would result in laughter, and the next, the same thing would result in me being beaten.
I remember when I was 10 years old, we went to pick my grandmother up from the airport. My father was driving and my grandmother was in the front. My mother was sitting in the middle in between me and my sister. I noticed that she did not have her seat belt on so I said, "you need to put your belt on!" The next thing I felt was a punch across the jaw from my mum. I felt shocked more than anything. I just started crying silent tears, as i knew that I should not cry.
When I was a teenager, I was beaten regularly. I felt unable to express who I was, as I was ridiculed. If I was stressed about school exams, I was shouted at, told I was being pathetic and beaten. I was called a sl*t and told that my friends were sl*ts.
She would tell me that I was miserable and I was making her life miserable. She would hit herself, punching and slapping herself, saying, "look at what you are making me do!" "I wish you were dead, I wish I was dead, it's your fault if I do die!" She would say that I was weird that I am mentally ill. Maybe I am.
When I started my periods, aged 11, my mother told me I was disgusting, and that I should be embarrassed because my father knew.
I was never allowed to express negative emotions. This would lead to being shouted at and beaten.
When I am back home or when I speak to my mother on the phone, the negative emotions inside me are triggered and the only way I can get rid of them is to cut myself. The triggering things can just be a subtle look of contempt, frustration from my mother, and this would send me into a swirl of negative emotions.
When I was beaten I used to feel myself floating away, and still do sometimes. There was one occasion last year after an argument (I was not beaten) when I thought that I became invisible. I look in the mirror sometimes and dont know if i really exist.
Although i am 27years old, I still feel like a child. I don't know who I am as a person. I would not be able to describe my personality. Sometimes I am perceived as outgoing and other times quiet and aloof.
I have not had a long term relationship and have no close friends.
I yearn for a confidante, somebody to confide in.
I have been going to a therapist and as a result, I have been able to identify why I cut and am starting to identify my negative emotions. When I started with therapy, I felt I was going mad, and did not realise I was cutting because of my past experiences. However I find it difficult to talk about painful memories and what I would like to do is talk through my emotions. I feel that I want to cry in therapy.
Another problem is that I am growing very attached to the therapist, and i find it very painful.
Thanks for any advice you can give me, sorry it is such a long and muddled story.
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Child Abuse Story From Shelby H
by Shelby H
(Wisconsin, USA)
It all started when I was 7, and kept continuing until I was 13. When I was little my mom would beat me with her hands, she would pull me by my hair,she would threaten me, put me down all the time on how I was Retarded and not worth her time, my mom pushed me into a coffee table and kicked me in the stomach. My dad was never around because of his work. He was gone all the time, the only time my dad was home was on Sundays. He said after I told him that he had a feeling that something bad was going on and he was right, I was starved by my mom, she would tell me wait until my soap operas are done and she would never feed me. I'm 16 years old now, moved away from my mom a couple of months ago and till this day I don't speak to her, see her, or even forgive her. How DARE she treat her daughter like that what she did to me. Im and scared of people and cant trust either, I go to counseling to get through the awful past I had, and I am living with my sister. She is what I have to be thankful about everyday and I am Blessed :)
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Child Abuse Story From William
by William
(Chicago, Illinois, USA)
Bad memories:
When I was 8 years old (I'm now 31 and Male), my uncle was baby sitting me. This is the moment that changed me forever..
At that age I was so anxious and never wanted to come in and use the bathroom. I just wanted to stay outside and play with my friends. So I would hold it in (number 2). Sometimes I would have a little bit in my underwear and my father would get mad at me, hit me and make me clean them out in the sink while he watched. This was an on-going thing. My mother did nothing! Well anyway, my uncle was to babysit my brother, sister and I. I came in from playing one day and he said he wanted to check my underwear. So I let him, since it was a daily occurrence at my house. I figured my dad told him to check.
As it turned out, I had some in my underwear and like clockwork, I had to clean them out in the bathroom sink. My uncle was very mean to me about and was cussing and spanking me (just like my father would). When my dad did this to me, I was to put on another pair of underwear and clean my dirty ones. My uncle made me stand there naked and do it. It was so humiliating. That was just the beginning. I don't remember exactly how it played out, but the next thing I know, he is making me suck his penis. Of course, I knew it was wrong, but I was crying and didn't know what to do. After a while, which seemed forever, he told me to stop. I can't get into too much detail here, but eventually he had sodomized me.
I had blocked this memory out as much as I could through-out my childhood. I never told anyone and it never happened again (or so I think). I don't think he touched my brother or sister. It happened so fast. I figured he was punishing me for going number two in my underwear. I didn't think about the sexual aspect of it then or how gross he was. It wasn't until I was in my early twenties while speaking to a therapist at a psyche ward that it came out.
The therapist told my mother, which I told her not to!! Well, my mother has a big mouth. So she eventually told my whole family. I'm sure it got back to my uncle. Now, 10 years later, no one talks about it anymore. Fortunately for me, my uncle has been shunned by my family anyway due to him being a conman. He has been in and out of federal prison his whole life. Trust me, this guy is a real piece of work. I witnessed him stealing money from a church once.
The worse thing I think about now, is the fact that he has a son. His son is 18 I think, but it bothers me when my mind starts drifting and imagining what his son must have went through during his childhood. Glad I could get this off my chest. I've only shared this with a few, close people. Thank you for reading! ♥
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Child Abuse Story From Tche
by Tche'
(USA)
It started when I was 14 just kissing on the lips and hugs that lasted to long ya know. I was raised by my grandparents but spent plentky of time with my mom and as I got older occasionally with my daddy. He'd never really been around but when left my grandparents home to live with my mom it seemed like he was trying to be a good dad. We talked all the time about everything from music to boys to sex(which I wasn't having) I wasn't use to "affectionate" dad figure my grandpa just wasn't like that. So I thought it was all in my head when I thought daddy was hugging to tight or a kiss was to long. I use to tell him I didn't like the kisses on the lips but he somehow convinced me that it was normal nd I just wasn't use to it. Whenever I spent vacation time with him he'd ask me to sleep in bed with him because he'd was at work all day and wanted me close. I didn't always want to but I did because when he got mad he'd get in my face real close and yell or try to intimidate me or threaten to cut our visit short and it worked. I was terrified he'd get angry and send me away so I always did what he said. Our phone convoys would last till like 2am lots of times about how I shud call the 1st timei had sex and I shouldn't give boys blow jobs because I didn't know how.. sometimes it seemed like he was just.being a dad but it changed back and forth so much I was so confused. When I was 15 at a visit to his moms he came in drunk and told me go get in bed....his bed. Started ti.e then he stared teasing me saying my Jean.s were to tight and shirt to low since I had small breast (I was super sensitive about that and cried) that's when he started to look in My shirt which containdd my small boobs wearing -2 bras. And stuffed with tissue. That's when he started to tocb my. Breast and made me touch his penis then got on top of me and started grinding. My breast saying they were perfect and how daddy's were suppose to be the first person to see their babygirl naked. I just froze, he kept on then tried go suck my nipples that must have freaked me out more than the rest Cuz I shoved him off and cried and to think he held me till I stopped crying then he rolled over. I got out of bed and didn't sleep till he took me back to my moms. There's more but even after all these years its still hard to deal with. Thanks for letting me share my story.
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Child Abuse Story From Jack
by Jack
(Location Undisclosed)
I want my older brother to admit what he did to me. He lies all the time and everybody believes him because he is older. I was 12 he was 17 and this happened 5 years ago. He only did this the once but he hurt me and he is still hurting me because i'm a liar. I have been lying for 5 years, nobody listens anymore. I just want him to admit that he hurt me and that i havn't lied all these years. Once a liar always a liar, that's all i hear.
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Child Abuse Story From Antigone
by Antigone
(Mississippi, USA)
I remeber her frowing all the time at me and my little sister. And I remeber her smiling and enjoying herself with her friends it was like she was a different person. I was afraid of my mother and terrified whenever she called my name. She would keep me and my little sister away from reality for days and days we would just have to sit in our room full of toys and play and read books we could not leave out the room we would have to ask. I was six years old and my sister was the baby she was three. Till this day she cant remember what I went through because she was so young. My mom would dress me in turtle necks and long pants and send me out to play in the Mississippi heat. She tried her best to cover up the scars and marks she put on me for just being my daddys child. I recall one time she was combing my hair in the living room and my dad tried to come and get me for the weekend and she would not let him but when he left atfer they had a heated argrument she thrust my head into the tv out of no where. And that was the start of me wearing bangs she did that to cover the scar on my forehead. My mom was a nightmare to me until my dad find out that I was being abused and got full custody of me at age six. My mom did not show up to the court trial at all. I have many more memories of my mom from being locked in closet for hours to staring at walls in a corner. But it was not to late for me because lucky for me I had my dads family who showed me how to love and what love is. I am proud to say that I am a member of the United States Army and a proud mother of two wonderful boys. I dont look back on my memories and cry anymore I look back at them and smile cause even though its hard to admit thats how I got to be the strong young woman that I am today.
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Child Abuse Story From Roxie
by Roxie
(Texas, USA)
It all started when i was around 5,as a child i moved from home to home.when i was little i remember my mother being abused by my stepdad .i remember waking up to her screaming and crying almost everynight.My mother bacame an alcholic and decided she didnt want to care for me or my sister.she decided her life would be easier if she kept my 3 brothers and me and my sister would live with my dad.so. i moved with my stepmom and father because my mother was unfit to care for me.At first it was nice,my stepmom took care of meand my sister we had a perfect family.She had 2 other children from a previous marriage and would have 5 more by the time i was 10.its really unclear if all along it had been childabuse if maybe i just wanted it to be perfect.one day when i was like 5 or 6 .we got a visist from a cps investigator.she stayed on our case for about 6 months doing home visits and helping with what we needed,until she thought we were safe,then she was gone.1 year later we moved to another town,and thats where my story really begins.At first it was good,then the fighting started.Then the drugs.i remember it like yesterday i got home from school and went into the restroom.while i was in there i remember looking in the cabinet where we kept cleaning products,instead of finding what i was looking for i found a small syringe with a tiny needle.i grabbed it and ran outside, not knowing that i had found a herione needle i showed it to my siblings.my dad saw me with it took it away and never said what it was only that it wassnt his,it was my stepmoms broth.i started realizing things were different when my stepmom stoppdd caring how we dressed if we ate,if we went to school.my big sister had to become our mother,she stopped going to school in 6 th grade.we had no food at home so shed get all 6 of us together and walk us towhere they offered free food.eventually we had no water.my dad would beat us if we tried to turn on a light in the house was always paranoid.my stepmom was always in the room,locked in there convinced the devil was trying to get in her.my baby sisters couldnt even cry or theyd get hit.nobody did a thing.one day when i came home from school my mom was there to pick me and my sister up.the school had called her to let her know my older sister haddnt been to school in months and also that cps was starting an investigation .me and my sister left with my mom crying and fighting. We wanted to leave but we did not want t to leave behind our siblings.That same week if not day cps went to visit with my stepmom and dad.what they found was so bad that my dad got sent to prison and the kids were takin into custody.after 2 attempts that they gave her to stay clean,and her failing every drug test they gave her.mysiblings were permanently placed in foster homes.we have no idea where they are and have never been told how to find them.The caseworker that took on the case has sworn her life that we will never be able to see them in person.we used to recieve photos showing us how they looked. But they stopped and now the oldest at the time was 4 this year turns 19..MAYBE ONE DAY WE CAN SEE THEM. WERE STILL IN CONTACT WITH my stepmoms 2children from her previous marriage,because they were placed with thier father.
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Child Abuse Story From Cindy
by Cindy
(Location Undisclosed)
Despite having to deal with my mother everyday, I refuse to let others know this. No matter how broken or fragile I am on the inside, I always make sure my peers know me as strong, confident and organized. Acting as if everything is okay is my way of dealing with things. But because of my emotional abuse, I have very little self esteem and self respect, and sometimes I feel like I am just worthless and I want to commit suicide. I come from a family of four:me, my mom, my dad and my younger sister. My dad is usually across the seas so in this house it's just me, my mom and my little sister. My dad is a very reasonable and caring person, while my mom is the complete opposite. Being the eldest child, my mom has always pushed the responsibility of taking care of my sister on me. Ever since my sister was born, she got more attention than me. I remember once my sister couldn't sleep, so my mom was saying things to her like "When you grow up you'll be much smarter and more successful than your stupid sister. Mommy will take you to lots of different places and I won't bring your annoying sister okay?" I was sitting right beside her when she said those things, and it made me feel so sad I started crying. When I did, my mom yelled at me for being a brat and how I was the reason my sister couldn't sleep. I just kept crying and walked to my room. I was only 5 years old that time. As I grew older, my mom found more reasons to pick on me, "You're the reason your sister is getting bad grades! You're ruining her future! Why can't you be more considerate? Stop nagging me brat! Why are you so ugly? See your sister is so much prettier than you." Everytime she said something like that, my throat closed up and I felt the tears coming, but I would push them back and try to act as if it was no big deal. Then when I was in my room alone I cried silently so no one would hear. Now just before I wrote this, my mom yelled at me for being unreasonable. She asked me what a letter meant, and I told her everything on the letter that was important. I thought I did a pretty good job of explaining but no, she began to yell at me to stop reading the letter and to explain it to her. I told her that's all I could tell her because there was nothing else to say, so then she kept yelling at me. She started saying things totally unrelated to the letter like, "You just don't want to explain it to me because you're lazy! Are you stupid? Of course you're stupid you only got a 94 on your report card last time! I do so much for you and you can't even do one thing right!" Well that blew me off and I began crying. Then she said all kinds of bad things to prove how stupid I am or she's right and I'm wrong. I got really mad and frustrated so I said she just never appreciates anything I do. Well that made her even more mad and she just rambled off. I kept on crying but then she screamed, "Stop crying you brat! Shut up and go cry in your room or something! I don't want to hear your stupid cries and you have no reason to cry!" Well after that here I am, completely fed up and depressed, writing this huge paragraph. Sometimes when I'm alone and I just finished crying, I reflect on what happened to really try to see what I did wrong. Most of the times yes, my room could've been cleaner or my grades could've been higher but even when everything was perfect, my mom would find a way to yell at me. Sometimes I felt so sad I felt like cutting myself or committing suicide. Once after I got yelled at, my mom took my sister shopping and to eat at a restaurant. I was home alone and I just wanted to die. I found a bottle of wine and I drank all of what was left. It burned my throat and my stomach but it felt good. Now my biggest dream is to become successful and live the life I've always wanted. No one there to criticize me, no yelling, no nagging and no more crying. My goal is to move out when I turn 18, so I'll never have to deal with my mom again. But sometimes I picture her old and alone, I feel really guilty and then I change my mind, but then she does something to really tick me off and then I am back on track. I just hope that one day she'll finally act like a loving mother to me. And now because of her I've sworn to treat my future children with love and attention.
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Child Abuse Story From Justice - My Statement of Rights
by Justice
(Location Undisclosed)
I have rights as a child:
I have the right to be protected
I have the right to be loved
I have the right to not be ashamed
I have the right to be left alone
I have the right to not be afraid
I have the right to say no that's enough
My rights were take from me. i wanted to share my rights because they're every child's rights
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Child Abuse Story From Neil P
by Neil P
(British Columbia, Canada)
50 yrs old and So tired of running:
I sit in a damp basement in Quesnel, B.C. Just moved here from Alberta and before that Ontario and so on.Was sexually and physically molested in the 70's at a Government run school in Florida. I am Canadian born not American.I walk away from good jobs and can't understand why. 3 marriages gone. I try to step up and face my horror but Police only brush me aside as I live in Canada and not in Florida. So much to say and tell. I can see the face of the bast**d that did this to me clear as day. At night I close me eyes and there I am in that closet where it happened. I can even see the white slats on the door. Government run school means lots of illness and I was not immune. I caught the crabs. This is a nasty thing that makes you itch like hell as the little bugs bite the body. I told my abuser and he made me suffer. I suffered for over a year and at night I would pick them off 1 by 1 with tweezers that I had stolen. So much to tell and say but this bast**d and the Florida school board/Government need to step up.I will be running soon but don't know when.
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Child Abuse Story From Catherine
by Catherine
(Oregon, USA)
I... I'm not really sure how to begin this.
Since I was young- About 2- My father has never been happy with me. Everything I ever did was a disappointment.
I would come home from school in first grade, beaming with pride as I held an A on a spelling test up in the air (as it was my worst subject) and hand it to him. Then, of course, he'd glare at me and tell me I could have gotten a hundred percent, instead of a 90.
Not just tell me. Scream it to me.
He hasn't ever laid hands on me, besides the harsh spankings making it near unable to walk for a day until I was about 9. But that's average for every child.
But every time we speak.... all I hear is how I'm an idiot and I need to do better and pull my head out of my arse.
Even when I try, apparently I'm not really trying. And I'm pathetic.
I've told the counselors at my school.... but of course, they can't do anything but try to comfort me.
Heck, most of them told me I need to just be a better daughter. Then maybe he'd stop screaming at me.
From this.... I've gotten depression. It's brought down my self-esteem, and because I'd go to school and cry about it, I'd get bullied day after day. Which led to me about committing suicide in 5th grade.
My mom hasn't played any part in helping on my dad's tirades. But what else can she do?
After all..... I know I deserve every bit.....
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Child Abuse Story From Alicia
by Alicia
(New York, USA)
When I was born in April 1996, my mother and father already had 2 other daughters, and my father had a son. Life was always fun and I always got to go on new adventures through the lots and through the city, but when I was 6 years old we had to move. We moved to a little farm town in New York, it was a blue-grey house that was beat up, with a barn and a chicken coop, but only one neighbor. While growing up my dad had always been an alcoholic, but he never got mean until we moved.
It was a Friday night and my father had just gotten home from the bar, and my mother was cooking dinner and he didn't like it. He smashed the beer bottle on the table and held it against her neck, then he pushed her down the stairs. Since I was only 6 and my other sister's were 8 and 9, there was nothing we could do. My father didn't hit my mother in front of me again, but his drinking got worse. Every night he would get home, completely drunk, and he would go off, usually it was my fault. He would tell me I am worthless and that I am a waste of human flesh, the most common thing he would say was "I don't even know why your mother kept you, you're nothing but a burden on us."
He always spanked me and slapped my hands, but the really bad stuff started when I was in Eighth grade. I got suspended March 3, because since both my parents smoke cigarettes I decided to take them and give them to one of my friends, but I got caught. My dad picked me up from school and he backhanded me across the face and left a bruise. Things got worse from there, the next day my dad pinned me against the door and he punched me across the face in the same spot as the day before, and he said "Get used to it, this is all you're good for." A couple weeks went by and nothing significantly big happened, but one day my oldest sister and I had to go to the barn and feed our animals, she was mad because she didn't think it was her turn. I went everyday because I loved the animals, and when we got home my sister got mad because I didn't get the door. My father grabbed my ponytail and dragged my down to the ground "Knock off the attitude."
Nothing was ever done, but one day I was going with my dad to my friend's barn to get a kitten and I made a comment he didn't agree with so he reached across me and pushed me out of the door while going down the road. I was in walking distance home so I just had to tell my mom I fell when I was walking to my friend's house. I sprained my ankle, but never told anyone what happened, and my father doesn't even remember.
There were other times that this type of thing happened, but I dealt with it any way I could. When I was a freshman I decided to meet one of my friends at his house to hang out, but it ended worse than that, I have been raped twice and forced to do other stuff multiple times because no one has ever taught me what to do in those situations. I am now a sophomore and nothing has changed, but one of my good friends noticed I don't eat and when I do I go to the bathroom right after. She also noticed the cuts on my wrists and my drug use has increased dramatically. She told my parents and my dad got mad. I have to see 4 counselors, but nothing is being done about my father.
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Child Abuse Story From Sheila
by Sheila
(West Virginia, USA)
Mommy beat us often with a belt while we squirmed all over the floor screaming, even hit us with the buckle at times. She would whip harder if we cried, which we always did, of course. She also kicked me across the room once when I was sick and vomited on the floor. She called us awful names, cursed us a LOT, and told me, at least, I was ugly. I took her into my home when she got old and tried to help her, we actually built an addition of a living room, bedroom, kitchen and bath for her to live with us, but she lied to many people and told them we weren't feeding her! She caused so much trouble in our family, told relatives and anyone she talked to on the phone my daughter was a whore, and on and on it went. We finally had to confront her and tell her she would have to stop lying. I woke up one morning and she had my niece move her out in the early morning hours! I was shocked and cried for weeks. She went to stay with my sister, and that lasted about 4 months, then the Department of Human Services came to my sisters door and investigated her for abusing mom! She had done the same thing to her, and also did basically the same thing to my younger sister, who had moved in with her and tried to take care of her. The result of all this had bothered me quite a bit. She died in 2006, and with 5 living children, only 1 was speaking to her. She had called me a few months before in a move i suspect was to try and make up with me, to tell me her brother had died and she was the last sibling left alive. I just said I'm sorry to hear that, but i didn't really talk to her. That happened about 7 months after she left my house hurriedly. I wonder if I did the wrong thing. I'm still very bothered about this, and wonder if I should have tried more.
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Child Abuse Story From Aziza
by Aziza
(Washington, USA)
The only thing I remember from my life was abuse. I grow up with my mom,four sisters, one brother for 15 years of my life before I finally became free from my abusive life style. My mom fell in love with a man who I once called my dad, even thou he was not my biological dad he demanded to be called "dad".I started to realize that things became different around the house when I noticed that my brother who was around 7 and is now 23 years old getting treated different from me and my sisters, it was for the worse. My brother was abused not only by my moms boyfriend but also by my mom. My mom was once a good mom I was told by my older sisters, but I don't know anything but abuse, I guess I still block most things out of my life. I watched my brother sleep in the closet for years, his room was the closet, his bathroom was the closet, he did not get to see anything else but that closet unless he was out for more abuse; he wasn't even aloud to go to school, as a matter of fact we were trained to just shut him out of our life completely,no one knew we had a brother. I still can see the scars on his body and how skinny he was from not being able to eat like we did. One day by the grace of god my brother had the will power to pull all of the item that were blocking him in the closet away from the closet, he jumped out of the window and walked to my neighbors house to ask for food, he just wanted to eat and go back in the closet. My neighbor knew that something was wrong and called the police. Later that day my brother was taken and put in foster care which left me and my sisters still in that home. Soon the abuse started happening to me. What I didn't know was that my 2 oldest sisters were already getting abused physically, emotionally and sexually from 6yrs-18. I started getting touch and raped from 13-15. It was so hard to face so I just never told anyone for a long time. I finally told my mom at some point but she for some reason she didn't save us, my mom said she believed me but she still didn't save us and it still hurts till this day. I can still remember getting woken up 3 or 4 times a week by him asking me to come in his room. It started to get harder and harder everyday because it was either my two older sisters taking the abuse or me. I finally started to give up on life and go crazy. I still have scars on my arm till this day from when I cut myself, I just could't take it anymore the house was so dark and sad, the only time it seem to shine was when my moms boyfriend was out of the house, that's the only time we felt comfortable enough to wear clothes that we wanted instead of putting things on that were baggy so he would't stare at our growing bodies so much. He only left because he was a drug dealer too. My oldest sister tried protecting us as much as she could, in fact she got a lot of the abuse for sticking up for my mom and us. My oldest sister was the one who got me and my two younger sisters removed from the house and into foster care in 2005. She ran away to join the military leaving us for over 2 months but would talk to us over through email telling us that she was going to get us out. One day detectives came to my school and pulled me and my younger sisters out and into child protective services. Being in foster care was really hard because no matter what my mom did she was my mom and she and my siblings were all I knew. We finally had a court day in 2008, it took 3 years to get one but it happened. My moms boyfriend got more than 35 years of prison for 7 different counts. But what he took from my family couldn't amount up to what he is facing. I am 22 years old and still scared till this day but just taking it one day at a time. I am just thankful that I was one of the survivors and we were removed before my two youngest sisters got touched. Thank you for reading.
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Child Abuse Story From Danny For My Sis
by Danny
(Newcastle, United Kingdom)
i have been thinking about this a few times the past few months or so but my sisters never said anything about it though but my big sis had a bf years ago that youst to look after me and my other sis which was about 7 other times before this time and about 7 again after. when he looked after us one time i was sort of being a pest keep coming into my sisters room from mine and in the end he said i could sleep @ the bottom if i go to sleep which after he carried my sis into my room but closed the door and i fell asleep after about 10 mins of them not coming back and wondering why the point was and what was so special that i had to be away and i obviously no more about perverts now and i was wondering if my sis was touched up which actually makes me angry and would like to no as she seems ok :/
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Child Abuse Story From Kimberly
by Kimberly
(Ohio, USA)
Remembering when the abuse started is hard, but around five years was the age that I have my first memory of my father's mental abuse. You see, I always had a voice that could carry. I was punished through humiliation that day. "If you wanna cry and scream then go out in the front yard and yell and cry as LOUD as you can!" My dad comanded. "MOVE MOVE MOVE!" Like a drill sargent. There I stood in front of the whole nieghborhood, made to force out some loud and pathetic crying. Making fun of me when I was crying or expressing my feelings was another responce he would give while "parenting". Public humiliation wasn't the only abuse. Once he tried to teach me a lesson by convincing me that I tried to kill my own brother. My two brothers and I were about ages 3, 4, and I was about 5. It was bed time and dad was resentful about having to be left as our caretaker. I pulled the covers out from under my brother who was standing on the bed. Like a five year old, "Get OFF!" I yelled. Yanked the blanket and down he went. Hit his head on the hard bare floor. Here he comes! The monster is fuming. "WHATS GOING ON?!" After getting off the phone with the doctor I heard him yelling close to my face. "You tried to kill your brother!" "You wanted him dead didn't you?" Meanwhile knowing the whole time that the doctor told him my brother was probly gonna be fine. He always made a huge ordeal out of any injury even slight. He would send all of us kids to one of the bedrooms while the injured party was with him. I couldn't see that my little brother was up and unharmed. Other than a bump. I realy thought I killed him.
Justifying my experiences as abuse was hard for me. My father loved me and his family. I knew that, but there was no denial when I realised, through counceling, that him chasing me into the next room while popping his eyes out and turning beet red, and shaking, he was cabable of physical abuse too. I knew he had picked me up and thrown me from the doorway onto my bed before. I watched my dad tie my brother's feet together and make him stand with a baseball glove and catch the speeding throws he hurled at him. Why? Because the youngest brother complained that the older brother was throwing too hard. This wasn't everything, but enough to illustrate what went on till I moved out when I was 19. Thinking of myself as abused was hard because it wasn't nearly as severe as others had endured. It did explain why I would not see myself as very valuable and moved right into an abusive marriage. Two years into that. I have since forgiven my dad because I needed to be released from the effects of bitterness. He never admitted that he handled things wrong and my brothers still arent able to forgive.
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Child Abuse Story From Katie
by Katie
(Sicily, Italy)
I thought that I was the luckiest girl in the world, with loving parents and a great home. This feeling stopped when my mom died. (I was 14). Although my father happily remarried a great person...I didn't realize that so I moved out. Within the first year I found that I didn't have enough money to eat and I didn't have any experience in any type of career to get a job so I decided to just go home. When I returned home instead of the "I'm so glad you're safe" hug, I was shoved to the floor and beaten. When I turned around to see who had beaten me I realized that it was my father but something was different, he was drunk. I couldnt move out again so I still to this day I face the torture of my drunk father. I'm now 16 and I'm not sure what to do with my life.
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Child Abuse Story From Shirin
by Shirin
(Middle East)
I'm a Middle East professional woman. Sorry if my English writing is not very good, but I think it's necessary to share my story with other victims to find a solution preventing it in future. I was 8 years old beautiful girl. All family gathered together for a ceremony. I slept sooner than others and in midnight I woke up because I felt something on my body. I was abused by my young uncle, the one that I liked him very much before this. I turned with a sudden movement and stood up but showed that I did not know what he did to me and went to toilet and found myself wet. I was shocked and went back to sleep but beside my mother and maked an excused to my uncle that I'm afraid and want my mother and he told me that's ok. I went beside my mom so afraid and shocked. I did not tell my story to anybody. It happened to me one time but destroyed my private life. 2 years later my cousins abused me 3 times. I felt I'm a bad girl that men like to do these bad things to me. I was always number one in school but an isolated, depressed very quiet girl that in my culture it will be appreciated. Nobody thought why I'm so quiet. I never played normally with other children and I was not interested to play childish games. I remember when I was 8 or 9 walking in street I was thinking that everybody knows I'm a bad girl and may be they saw my picture in newspaper as a bad girl that his uncle did that to her and because of that I felt shy and could not watch people. I grew up with this heavy thoughts and until 18 I was always waiting for a unexpected pregnancy, because I did not have knowledge of pregnancy, because in my country it was not accessible to get these information as a unmarried girl those days and I was so shy girl that could not ask anyone, on the other hand I thought if I ask one they may be find that victim is I. After going to University and learn more by university education finally I found that I lost 10 years of my life, both childish and teenager period because of restricted environment of my country and not knowing about these things. I beared this heavy secret with me 10 years with thinking I may get pregnant because of what happened to me at 8. I focused on my courses and hated men and marriage forever. I graduated in very high degree of my profession and tried to cure myself. After 33 I tried to trust men and environment. I tried to make friend with men but all my relations got wrong way. Even because I wanted to release my mind thinking as a victim of abuse I made sexual relationship but not deeply. After this I felt a little bit better and after 4 times make friendship and relationship with men I found it now I can rely to a man but now I'm not at usual age of marriage and I finally feel I'll be alone forever. Now as a University professor and very qualified in my career, I'm alone. I’ve always been at service of my poor family because I thought I can forgive them for not caring me enough, to prevent what happened to me. But now at the end of my story I hate first of all my mom, then my uncle, cousins, and my dad. Even I think to suicide because I feel I'm not normal because I'm not married. Almost everybody around me is married at my age and has children.
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Child Abuse Story From Megan
by Megan
(USA)
This story did not happen to me but to my mom and my friend that iv known since kindergarden. My friends story comes first. She told not to tell any one so i wont say her name but we were walking back from school one day and she told me that shes not too excited to go home because her dad was home and i siad ehy and she said her dad beats her with belts and wires and she showed me some of her bruzes. So i want to know if i should report it to some one or just tell her to do somthing about it? My moms helpless story is next. My mom has deppresion off and on and she told me why so here it goes. One day my mom was drinking while listening to loud music and she told me why and said when she was a little girl her parents adopted her out and her step father raped her every day and yhe step mom did nothing to stop it so when my mom was ateen ager im not sure when ,she ran away. She had to go into foster care and was very troubled she told me no more then tgis and she began to cry alot she said i am very lucky i have good loving parents. She made me feel very sad for her and i think about it now and tgen and it makes me cry and every time she talks about it i try to change the subjext but i feel.its not enough so im wondering what i should do to help her not think about so much.
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Child Abuse Story From Sherri
by Sherri
(Alabama, USA)
I was about 6 years old when this happened to me, I don't remember too much about it, but my uncle says that I have blocked out everything at that time in my life. I didn't know that can actually happen. I didn't know that something so bad can happen to someone that they put a wall up around them themselves. Then it happened again when I was about 16, by the same man.
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Child Abuse Story From Courtney
by Courtney
(Kentucky, USA)
Im still young and still have alot of life ahead of me, but that life has been cut down alot and things are completely different now. I was 6, about to turn 7, when my mom first got back together with her ex boyfriend. After almost 2 years he started acting weird. Always being around me and stuff. Well i used to go downstairs in my mom and his room and watch movies all the time at night until one night he started to touch me. I was like 9, and ive been told countless times i shouldve known better by that age but i didnt know what to do. I let it go on too long, being bribed or threatened everytime i kept my mouth shut. Eventually he used force. I was held down and had my clothes ripped off, i forced myself off of the bed head first and hurt myself pretty badly, i grabbed my phone and ran to the bathroom and decided it was time to tell my mom. I finally told her the next day and she immediately called my sister, i packed what i could and she came and got me. I lived with her for 3 months. The first 2, it was just me, the last month my mom lived there. Eventaully my mom bought a trailer and we moved in, she still doesnt fully believe me because he denys it but she does to an extent. I dont know where life is going to take me and i dont know what it will be like in the future but i resent my mom for the way she is doing things. She still brings him around. She still sees him and is going back to him when i move out. I have a son now, his real dad isnt around much and it sucks and it just adds more stress on me, but at the same time he helps me manage through each day. Its hard having the same guy around but i dont judge my mom for wanting to be with him. Its the love of her life, shes pretty old and was with him since she was a teenager they just broke up in between. I hate what shes doing but i understand that she doesnt know what to believe. Im the one who chose not to call the cops or get them involved. I dont wanna go through court and all the stupid stuff and relive those moments in front of total strangers. I can deal with the way things are now for one more year, but after that, im moving far far away from the state of kentucky.
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Child Abuse Story From Jesika
by Jesika
(California, USA)
I suffered a horrible childhood my dad died when I was 6 years old and after that my mom became an drug addict. She got a new boyfriend who would abuse me and kick me across the hallway and my mom would deny it. Then she invited her friend to stay with us and he fingered me it hurt so bad and he would jackoff in front of me I would yell for my mom but no one would come I'm scared and helpless. I got tooken away from my mom I now live with my aunt and I'm 15 I just feel depressed now and sometimes suicidal.
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Child Abuse Story From Martha
by Martha
(Alberta, Canada)
I am a First Nation older woman. I have been mentally, emotionally, physically and sexually abuse by teens and adults. I do not recall being sexually abuse when I was a toddler; however, by insight I was by my uncle. The flashbacks I had started at age 7 years old; however, the abuse might have started earlier than that. I have been abused by various people, my uncles, my grandfather, a priest, a doctor, and people that I thought were safe.
My late uncle was a serious pedophile. He would corner me and would touch me and I would struggle. We would play outside with other children and he manage to have his big dogs to try to mount me while he held me. I fought and he would let go with his sick laughter.
My grandfather would mentally sexually abuse my thoughts by using dollar bills of the queen as a vagina and tell me this is it..
My grandfather would throw me against the wall if he slightly grew angry at everything. He would tell me I was stupid.
My uncle's brother in law raped me at 14 years old, alone in the car in the middle of no where.
A priest from the residential school sexually touched me when no one was around.
A doctor whom I had known since I was a child tried to kiss me and I ran from his office.
A gynecoglist touched my clitoris while examining me and never said a word.
I have gone into therapy by going to group counselling, individual concounselling and spoke to whom ever will hear my story.
I have turned to drugs, and alcohol when I was 17 but turned my life over with a lot of dysfunctional emotions.
I gained BA/BED and a Masters. I am open to conversation to this type of treatment and feel for others who are still going through this process. As you see, it still happens on First Nations reserves and it is not spoken about. First Nation children need to be protected and have their stories told.
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Child Abuse Story From Joey F
by Joey F
(Indiana, USA)
I was 14 years old in 1982, and my dream was for my Dad to come home. He and Mom had been divorced for several years, and he went to Arizona, taking 2 of my Sisters with him. When I saw him walk through our front door, I went right to him. I wasn't running fast, I was flying low!! I knocked him over with this massive bear hug and he hugged me back and told me all about how much he loved me and missed me and was happy to see me. My dream had come true! XD XD XD A few days later, on our way to Arizona in a little 6'X8' camper the dream became a nightmare. We were always parked off the highway in some remote part of the desert, and there was rarely food or clean water or even a change of clothes. Everyone was absolutely miserable. No one laughed or smiled or played. Mom was always "out of it" because she didn't have her Schizophrenia medicine. The beatings were constant. What I never disclosed to my Mom or Sisters, even to this day was the beatings while Dad and I were "exploring the desert", which were much worse than the ones at "home". One night while dragging me out of the camper, my youngest Sister, J-- grabbed my hand. I looked in her eyes and knew the situation. I was the only thing standing between my family--Mom and Sisters--and this monster. If I let him hit me at least he's not hitting anyone else. One day, he looped his leather belt and hit me in the eye so many times it broke a blood vessel and the blood ran all the way to the pupil. When I told him I might go blind in that eye all he said was "I don't care." At another point he put a knife to my throat and threatened to kill me.
The sleep deprivation got pretty bad. He would keep me awake all night and under a lot of stress asking math questions that if I didn't get them right he would hit me again. The brain doesn't function well under stress, so I was always getting them wrong. Sometimes he just spend the time explaining in no uncertain terms how I'm a piece of s**t and he divorced Mom because of me.
Eventually one of my Sisters was so upset over what she was witnessing that she ran away. That night, I went to go find her. Not to bring her back, but to make sure she was OK.
After the abuse ended, life was never the same again. I was constantly angry, depressed,and self loathing. Other kids in school picked up on it and I became the butt of their jokes. Sometimes even a teacher would make fun of me. At that point, I started playing a game of chance with a whole other monster. I would stand on train tracks and watch the train bear down. Sometimes it got to within 2 or 3 seconds.
The screaming in the head was unbearable. I started smoking and taking Ephedrine to see how fast I can get my heart going before it killed me. I got it up to 240 BPM--That works out to 4 beats/second. I should've died. I *wanted* to die. Dad did all of that to my family to get to me. "If you never existed my family would've been happy." "You don't deserve to be loved." "Nobody can love you." Every day I wanted to cry my eyes out, but all I could do was scream and kick and hit things.
I'm 44 years old, and I still have a lot of issues. I can't talk to my family about it and I have no close friends. I never had a GF, and I absolutely refuse to have children (Break The Cycle).
A lot of blank spaces--a lot of what happened on those walks I can't even remember. I'm not sure I want to.
I recently remembered what my Dad's face looked like, and it just brought all of this up again.
Even now I'm a 14 year old boy that loves his Dad ((((((((((((((((((((((((((((that much)))))))))))))))))))))))))))). I just wish he could love me back. :( :( :( :( :( :(
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Child Abuse Story From Kipper
by Kipper
(Location Undisclosed)
Before my parents death I was the happiest kid alive. Playing with my friends, watching Children’s shows and singing songs with my parents.
My whole world came crashing down, one night when I was being baby sited.
"Hey, Kipper, do you want to play a game?" Our babysitter, I forget her name, asked.
"Yeah!" I nodded however the phone ran and the babysitter, having the permission to answer the phone, ran up to go and grab it.
I was then told the sad news, that my parents where dead. They had been killed in a car crash and I was instructed too collect a suitcase of my things.
I was only 6 at the time. When my parents died. I was forced to move in with my Aunt to which I referred to as "Miss" and uncle to whom I referred to as "Sir".
My childhood ended, then and there. as I was now "The boy" or "Rat" or "Slave" instead of kipper the brave knight who chased my father (The dragon) around the green garden as the sun-set, and was rewarded with a smile by my mother with some of her freshly baked cookies or cakes and a glass of milk.
I was beaten with a whip or belt, caged, Starved and forced to do every chore imaginable!
Here where some of the rules which I now had to obey:
1. No speaking when not asked a question
2. Don’t look us in the eye
3. No complaining, crying, laughing or sign of emotion
4. No playing or having fun
5. No Thieving
6. Always do as we say
7. No playing with friends or playing at all
8. You’re not an equal to us but a slave
Caught breaking any of the rules I would be beaten harshly!
They’re a small selection, some are painful to remember. I remember as i grew up, being dressed in the same rags, my hair was long and greasy and my body thing and bony.
There wasn't a crumb of love anywhere, and my life was completely turned upside down.
My days where filled with chores, beatings and I was made to stand in the corner, my head down and arms by my side I was also to tag around them whenever i wasn't needed.
As i grew up, I grew determined to do my Parents proud and vowed never to return to this hell-hole. I was determined to runaway and managed to do so when I was about 16/17, settle down and have children of my own and I have done so.
I got a decent good-paying job, a wonderful wife and three wonderful young children.
King D - Little D, the eldest.
Captain J - Is our middle child who is a pirate-addict!
And Princess P - our youngest and is in love with unicorns (her bedroom is full unicorns, fairies and rainbows!)
Though I am blessed with my family and love them so much, I feel, often, worth-less, less-than human and that I deserve to still be locked in a cage, away from sight as I’m ugly, disgusting and a disappointment.
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Child Abuse Story From AC
by AC
(Tennessee, USA)
My story is about emotional abuse and the effects on a person's sense of self-worth. The worst part about emotioinal, or psychological, abuse is that it is not easy to spot sometimes because it can be non-blatant. I grew up in a very wealthy Southern Baptist family. My parents were divorced when I was young, but remarried. My mother, due to her need for control at all times, and her preoccupation with how things appeared to everyone else, was the primary emotional abuser. If she was mad at anyone else, she would take it out on me. She was easily angered and would slap and kick me even if she was mad at someone else. She also acted as though anything that happened in my life, or anything I cared about, did not matter and I was silly to think that it did. Her life revolved around doting on my stepdad, keeping an immaculate home, and presenting the "perfect" persona to anyone outside the family. She was always willing to go above and beyond for anyone else, but I was always treated like an inconvenience or a burden. I tried so hard to be perfect, to keep quiet, to just shut up and not have any feelings or wants so that she would be happy with me. When I finally left home for college at 18, my self-esteem began to unravel. Without anyone there to critique my every move, I became fearful. I self-harmed for awhile, along with a serious bout of anorexia for about 4 years. I am still bulimic to this day. I got into an abusive relationship, dropped out of school, and had an unwanted pregnancy. Because of these mistakes, my mom decided she didn't want anything to do with me. She kicked me out, took custody of my child (whom she later adopted) and played it off to everyone that I was such an ungrateful, stupid little girl and she was such a selfless hero. Because I was now suddenly on my own, I began prostituting to support myself. My mom knew about it, I didn't hide it from her, but she acted as though she didn't care. One night I called her after I was mugged at a hotel room, and she flippantly told me she was trying to take a bath and relax and to quit bothering her. I fell into another abusive relationship soon after. When I would cry out for help from her when he treated me badly, she would ignore me and gossip with him about me behind my back. I felt utterly betrayed. She has constantly, since I was young, been trying to make me look bad to other people. She wants everyone to think of me as some stupid little child who doesn't know anything. Even when I try to talk to her now on the phone, she responds with "mmhmm" to anything I say no matter what is it, then puts on her cheery fake voice and hangs up. Another thing I have never understood is that anytime something happens that's good in my life, or I am happy, she acts like I don't deserve it and she's mad that I am happy. I am no longer a prostitute, although I struggle with bulimia every day. No one cares about how she has treated me. I have no one who understands. Anyway, thank you for letting me vent on this site.
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Child Abuse Story From Sarah
by Sarah
(United Kingdom)
I'm 14 years old. For 8 years of my life I was emotionally abused and neglected. But it wasn't just at home. I was bullied at school and received a lot of racism. Often I was starved for days and never had clean clothes to wear, I refused to get changed for P.E. because my clothes were never clean. At school I had 2 good friends one knew more than the other what was happening to me but because my abuser was good at manipulating people my friend pitied my abuser not knowing to a full extent what was going on. My abuser had mental health issues and although, towards the end, people told me it was because of this it felt to me as though it had been learnt a skill that had developed over time. At school I was bullied, hit, punched, thrown up against the lockers and received alot of racism. I lived in filthy, rancid conditions for SEVEN years. I learned to bend into the background and that's why when I finally got out of that situation, my people skills were so crappy. I still struggle to make friends, I've been at my school a month and my mind keeps wandering to the way I was treated at my own school but on a much, much milder scale. But that's not what makes me angry. What makes me angry is that Social Services had it in there power to take me out of that situation and... they never did. I had to make that move. I had to beg my dad to take me when I found out all I had to do was ask. But I was scared of asking of what my abuser would do if i asked. And when I told her she both cried and attempted to beat me. But then. With a little help I got the courage to stand up to her. So, one day, when she was out, I packed up all my stuff, and went to live at my aunts for 2 weeks, still going to school and getting bullied but at least I felt safe when I got home. Well as you can imagine my mum found out and turned my friends against me who in turn, turned the small amount of friends/classmates I liked and who liked me against me and I had to hang out in the attendance officers office every lunch and break time for two weeks. And when I finally got to my dad's. It was the happiest feeling I have ever felt. So yeah, I've been through the wars and I made it through. I still long to tell my new found friends of my story but for now I'm keeping it quiet and thinking about the future. My teachers say I've got enough brains to go to Oxford but I want to be a Wildlife Explorer.
I'm Sarah and This was my Story.
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Child Abuse Story From Jack
by Jack
(Location Undisclosed)
I was abused pretty much since I was born. I don't really remember not getting hurt. My father abused my physically with beatings. He did other things also like making me sleep outside during thunderstorms. My mom wasn't like him, she was really nice and she always said she loved me and she tried to help, but when I was 5 I was in a car accident with her and she died. My father blamed me for her dying and said I should've died instead and that if I was good then she'd come back. I know now that that isn't true, but at the time I believed him and tried really hard to do everything right so she'd come back, but I always screwed up. When I was 7 my teacher saw cigarette burns on my arms because I forgot to wear long sleeves to school and she reported it. I was put into foster care.
My first foster home was really great, the parents were nice and I had an older brother who was 16 that I latched on to. He used to take me places with him and play sports with me. At night he would let me sleep in his room sometimes because I would have really bad nightmares. For the first two weeks I was there I wouldn't talk to anyone and they had me see a childrens counselor but it was my foster brother who got me to start talking. After a year I had to leave the home though because the mom got cancer and they had to pay for chemo and couldn't afford to adopt me anymore.
My second foster home was more abusive than my father was and the foster father there had a gun that he always threatened me with. He'd play a game where he put one bullet in and spun it so I wouldn't know if it was in the chamber or not and he'd fire. Once he actually did shoot me because I was crying and didn't stop when he told me to because I was scared. I think I was 12 then. I didn't get taken out of that foster home for another year though because he said I was playing with his gun and shot myself. It was another report by a teacher that got me out of that one. I was in that home for about 5 years I think.
My third foster home only lasted 2 months because they said I was too quiet and had too many issues, and they had like 15 other kids already so they couldn't deal with me.
The fourth home was the worst out of all of them. The father was physically abusive like all the rest but after a year or two he started touching me and doing other things and when I was 15 he started raping me. He pulled me out of school when I was 16 because I already skipped school alot anyway and it made it easier for him. On nights where it was just him I could stay in my bed room but on nights that his friends came over and paid him to spend time with me I stayed in the basement. I had a mattress but I always slept in the corner instead. I still do alot of the time because I don't like beds much. I tried committing suicide once while in that home but it didn't work and I never had the guts to try again.
When I was 17 I got taken out of foster care permanently and was given a deal that I could live on my own if I had shelter, steady income, and saw a court-appointed therapist. I was technically homeless but I went to a teen shelter alot at night so I did have somewhere to sleep most of the time. I had two jobs that I still have now and I saw the therapist until I turned 18 in December 2011.
My father got out of prison a few months ago and in January he found me and attacked me but the police came before he killed me and he's back in prison now.
I was on my own for a while but in January (before the thing with my father happened) I got in touch with my foster brother from the first home. He was really happy to hear from me and said he tried to find me when he got older but since I was still in the system they couldn't give him my location. I see him almost every day now and stay at his apartment alot.
So now I'm just trying to get through each day I guess. I have alot of issues like anxiety, bad nightmares, fears of stupid things like thunderstorms and the dark, I'm really jumpy, sometimes my hands or body start shaking if I get scared, and other things like that. Some people said they think I have PTSD but I've never been diagnosed.
I learned alot about coping mechanisms while I saw the therapist and my main one is music. I love music and there's never really a time when I'm not listening to music. I like rap and rock music the most. I love playing the guitar too but I can't afford to buy one right now so it's been a while since I last played. I also love sports, mainly basketball and ice hockey, and I play them with my brother alot.
It's hard but I think I'll make it. Thanks for listening, sorry that that was so long.
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Child Abuse Story From Vanna
by Savanna
(Massachusetts, USA)
I remember trying to stand at the top of the stair case, my legs quivering, and feeling the snot and tears dripping from my chin. They turned to look up at me, horror set deep into their faces. My mother turned to look last and I saw her face fall. She stood up and ran up the stairs to grab me. I can't remember anything after that.
My parents were good people. We went to church every Sunday and they were active in the community. My parents tried to have a baby for 20 years and I was their little miracle. My dad worked hard every day and we lived in a nice house that sat on a nice hill where we lived nice lives and had nice things. The church was looking for families to take in refugees from Yugoslavia which was in the midst of a horrific war. The people were being killed in mass genocide and families were being displaced. My parents, being the good people they were, offered to take a family in. I remember seeing the family get off the plane. They had one suitcase of clothes and the mother carried her crying baby. They were skinny and dirty and smelled weird. The three girls had hair cut short so they wouldn't be raped in their country. They looked so scared and unsure. They stayed with us for months and the oldest sisters would baby sit me and my brother. They were quiet and kept to themselves mostly. The brother was angry always, the father dominating, and the mother subservient. My parents helped them to get on their feet and they moved into their own home eventually.
We went to visit them for their Easter Sunday. I remember following the son up to his room while our families ate down stairs and laughed together. He had made a fort out of his bunk bed, darkened and surrounded by blankets. We went inside of it and there isn't much I remember after that except for my moms face..
There was no real sign that any of this had happened except for my abnormally agitated behavior. I remember shoving kids down hills in preschool and I was suspended from kindergarten for beating up kids a few times. I slept under my bed for five years then relocated to my closet. my mom thought it was cute. I never fit in and when we moved, I immediately isolated myself. When I did begin to talk to people, it was only to seek out some comfort. I couldn't feel comfortable in my own skin. I couldn't be home where my dad screamed all the time and my mother walked away as he hit me. I couldn't deal with watching my younger brother cry or sit in my room alone with my thoughts. I sought any escape from home, any escape from my thoughts that I could find. I escaped to a group of friends who were into smoking, drinking, and getting into anything that made them feel different. I was a little younger than 12. I became bulimic, began drinking heavily, and smoking pot. One night, my best friend at the time and I had been drinking heavily. Our friends left and her older brothers came downstairs. One began kissing me and I kissed back. My friend went upstairs. He pulled my pants down and i fell over, hitting my head on the table. The other brother held me down and kept me quiet. I remember her father coming down the stairs and one of them jumped up. Her dad ran back up the stairs. I remember waking up and trying not to puke as the room spun. I remember my friend telling me not to say anything because they had gotten in trouble before. I remember the confusion and the shame. I remember the week after, sitting in a restaurant with two friends, when all of a sudden I wasn't in my body anymore. I thought some one had drugged me or I was going crazy. I wasn't sure what to do so I didn't do anything. The outer body experiences only got worse and i began to get nightmares. I would wake up screaming or with tears streaming down my face. I couldn't deal with the nightmares so I would try to force myself not to sleep. I began to self mutilate and tried to kill myself multiple times before even entering high school. I began drinking and taking anything on a daily basis. I had no limits for myself. I felt that down was the only place for me to go. I felt I had no life worth living and no future to aim for. I didn't have a will to live and I couldn't deal with my feelings. I was having sex with who ever would have sex with me and things only got worse. I would wake up next to people I didn't know, have no memory of the night before, my reputation was destroyed by high school, I was hospitalized for alcohol poisoning my freshman year, and then my mom learned about the most recent rape. I was institutionalized for several months. No one really knew what was going on. I was released and went back to my old school. My drug habit only got worse. I became chronically depressed and began to use heroin my sophmore year. I began to have small memories of the rape from when I was 5. I couldn't stand to see my parents. If I wasn't basically comotose from the mixture of booze and benzos or heroin, I was hysterical and in tears. My junior year, I was so messed up I don't even remember being arrested at school but I was sent to lock up and then rehab for 9 months. I relapsed almost immediately, was homeless, arrested again, sent to detox, and then kicked out to live with my junkie boyfriend. My senior year I found out i was pregnant after being told numerous times i could not get pregnant. My cervix had been severely scarred to the point that doctors believed it would not be possible. I got clean. I got my life together and graduated high school 5 days before having my son. We promised to give this baby a life better than we had. I struggled through out my pregnancy but i now have a beautiful 7 month old son. Though his father has relapsed and is not in our life, I still survive and look for the beauty in life every day. The fact that I made it through these events and am now not only surviving but thriving and growing is a miracle. Just like I was and am a miracle, my son is too. He is my reason for living. He is my reason to stay sober and fight my PTSD. I do not know why these things happened to me, but I know there is a reason. My mother still lives in denial of my rape when I was 5 and I still struggle with PTSD and addiction, but I now wish to share my story and let others know that your struggle is not in vain. I now major in psychology and plan to work in clinical research to study more about PTSD treatment and affects. I know my struggle has not been in vain.
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Child Abuse Story From Abigail
by Abigail
(Ohio, USA)
My sexual assault 4 years ago:
Wen I was 7 I was playing kickball with my bestfriends brother and the ball went behind a truck I went to go get it and he pushed me down and raped me. for 2 days straight I felt so dirty after like it was my fult. I am 11 now.
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 Jason
by Jason
(Location Undisclosed)
I'm breaking the cycle. I've been a loser my whole life. I was robbed of a childhood so I never had the "boys will be boys" excuse going for me. I was a street rat by the time I was twelve and I've been a homeless piece of trash ever since. Once a punk always a punk. I don't feel bad saying it because it's true. Drugs, theft, violence, sex for money, I am what's wrong with society. No kid should go through what we went through growing up, but that's no excuse. When my father went in to his rages and beat us bloody he always had an excuse. I don't care what his father did to him. There's no reason for a 6'4" 220lb man to punch a 9 year old in the face hard enough to knock him down and then kneel on his chest and pound fists into his tiny body nonstop until he goes limp. Nothing will ever justify the way he treated us. Whipping us with his belt until the skin split and blood ran down our legs because "his daddy used a switch on him"? Bullshit. And that aint even the worst of it. How can you go through this and then turn around and do it to another human being? But that's what they say. Kids who got beat grow up into abusers themselves. I'll never understand it and that's what terrifies me most. I've got a kid now. A little boy. I've only seen him once. I split with his mom as soon as I found out she was pregnant. Call me a coward, but I didn't do it because I'm too lazy to raise a kid. I just know he's better off without someone like me in his life. I know in my heart I'd never hurt my kid. But it's not a chance I'll take. I have so much anger inside of me all the time. What makes me any different from my father? Violent, raging, drug addict, alcoholic, piece of shit. Like father like son.
I'm not a good person. But it ends here.
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Child Abuse Story From Kally
by Kally
(Location Undisclosed)
Im now 12. I was three when all that stuff happened. My mom would go to work every night. It started out small....he would say he wanted to play a game. I ofcoursr said yes. We wuld play a game where we wuld find stuff and put it under a blanketand we had to guess what it was at one point he made me touch his "thing". He said it went with the game so I did it too. Then it went to something else. He covered my mouth and pulled down my pants and underwear and tried to put himself in me but I fought so he didnt. I cried and screamed to let me call my mom. I did finally call my mom and she rushed home. I told her he covered my mouth she asked what else and I said that was it. I guess you could say I was embarrassed and he told me not to tell her so I didnt.
Later it was all forgotten...even by me. We moved from there and in with my sister,her husband and my niece and nephew. My brother and I slept on the couches. He somehow got a porn video and showed it to me. That night he told me to take off my pants. I was 4now but I did what he said and he stuck his thing in my behind like he wanted too. It hurt but still I said nothing when it was over. My neice and nephew and I did some sexual thimgs when we were younger. We're all close in age but we watched porn and looked through porn magazines. We got caught.multiple times but we still did it. Now im 12 and im obsessed with sex. I read sex scenes. I fantasize about having sex. I've done stuff that I know I shpuldnt do but I cant stop it. My mom knows nothing and I want it to stay that way. My brother always said it never happened so I dont talk about it. My nephew told me that my brother did sexual things with him when they wyld shower together after swimming in the pool. Its been years now and I dont jnow if this counts as abuse or not but ive needed to share my story somehow. Me and my brother have an amazing relationship. Like any brother and sister. He just took my innocence and now im some sex addicted pre teen. I will never tell though...no matter what.
I say sorry for any typos I used my phone to type all of this up.
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Child Abuse Story From Angry Little Girl
by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)
I don't want to tell my name b/c I will be scarred with the fact that I am just as messed up as everyone else, when I finish telling my story. I have just turned 17 and have been living with my wonderful boyfriend for one year, eight months, and eleven days. I don't believe in a religion and I hate my mother more than life itself. I was molested at the age of seven, by a man I thought was family, in my grandmothers house. This same man, tried again and he couldn't b/c I acted like I was asleep and wouldn't move my arm from in between us for anything, he was trying to nudge my arm over. Within that timespan, I and some cousins performed sexual acts with each other. I knew this was wrong and I never said anything. This guy had relations with my uncle. I Love my uncle very much and still feel guilty for not telling him about this guy. My uncle died and I feel that if I would have spoke up that he would still be here. My mother, G---, is a very sick person as I have grown to realize and still is. She is an emotionally abusive person and I wish that I could help her. I try not to talk to her as much as possible b/c everytime I do, I am extremely stressed for unknown reasons. She and my biological father, L--, were at a party and had sexual intercourse. Neither of them remember the night and L-- doesn't talk to me b/c he has a family of his own. His family didn't know I existed until a couple of years ago. I have a brother and sister (on my dad's side) who have been brainwashed into hating me by their real mother, C--. I have a brother and a sister (on my mom's side) who live with extended family. My bro, sis, and I all smoke weed and I know it is bad, but right now, we're trying to live one day at a time. We all know not to do anything harder b/c of previous experiences. They, thankfully, ignore the bad things around them. I can't and I am so F***ed up b/c I dwell on it. Back to C--, she is (in my opinion) evil incarnate and doesn't care about the fact that she has children, b/c she is trying to keep her head above all the drama and drugs that she is surrounded by on a daily basis. I care for my bro and sis deeply and it kills me that I am not old enough to whisk them away and take them to Neverland. My sister is old enough to fend for herself (being a year younger than me), but no one (NO ONE) wants my brother and I feel so helpless b/c I am still trying to live a better life and secretly wish someone would care for him. C-- came to my grandmothers crying, while I was there. She had my brother with her b/c there was a conflict with the extended family involving money (LIKE ALWAYS!) and she said that he can't stay there anymore. Well I can gladly report that my bro and sis need to be with each other and are still with the extended family. I think C-- hasn't matured past the age of 16 and I hate her so much there is not even words to describe. I can't wait until she is dead, so when I have children of my own (which I am scared of b/c I want them to have a 10x's better life) I can say that I had a good childhood and a good mother. Now that I've moved past those obstacles, I still dwell on the past. It is killing me b/c it is making my relationship with my boyfriend worse. I Love my boyfriend, but I intentionally come up with stuff to fight about. I get angry for no reason sometimes. I am at Sat. School and I thought I would share my messed up past. Thank you for reading. I feel a weight off my shoulders. :)
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Child Abuse Story From Ricki P
by Ricki P
(Denmark)
When I was six months old, my mother was fed up with being a mother, and left. She didn't tell anyone and just left the apartment, my father would return a day later to find me there. He was not super excited about being a single dad, so he dropped me off at my grandparents only he forgot to pick me up again. And when I was around 8 months old there was a custody hearing, no one showed. The custody went to the state.
I stayed at my grandparents, because it's customs here in the DK to ask family members first, when the state has a child on their hands that no one wants. My grandparents let me stay, and I wish I had gone to the state.
I was never assaulted. I was ignored, belittled and made to feel unwanted. I was a burden and no one missed a chance to tell me that. I was not invited to family gatherings, and was told over and over that I was a little b***h mooching off my grandparents. And that I should be grateful. Even the CPS ladies that visited yearly said that, I should be grateful because no one wants a foster child that is not a toddler. And that my grandparents seemed like nice people.
My grandmother told me time and time again, that they had only taken me in because of the family/neighbor gossip. She was ashamed of her own son, who clearly wasn't interested. She did not do this for any other reason than damage control and money. See in that aspect she 'did' care, she would sew my clothes herself, or re-design handmedowns so they fit me. It was rare that I had something new, everything always came from someone elses closet.
While she never hit me, she would ignore me for days. Not acknowledge my existence at all, no plate would be put out for me at dinner time, I had to fetch my own. Most of all she was bitter that she was "made" to look after another child.
I was never made to bathe, brush my teeth, go to bed, come in for supper or anything. I had decent clothes, my own room, a toothbrush and stuff like that, but no one cared if I used it. I had several teeth pulled as a pre-teen because they were rotten, kids just don't brush their teeth unless prompted. I had all the things right there for me to use, but no one bothered to show me how, or tell me when it's appropriate to take a shower and so forth. I had to learn this the hard way, from my peers.
I hated school, and I did terribly there. Got in fights and detention. Mostly because I had no respect for anyone or anything, maybe I tried to make someone stand up and claim that they cared, but I doubt I would have believed them.
I ran away when I was 15 and never came back. When I was picked up by the Danish CPS at a project for street kids, I welcomed the grouphome, anything was better than to live a life, where you on daily basis are told that you are nothing, that you are a burden, unwelcome, making everyone miserable, and most of all being told that you are a less fortunate product of your dad not being able to keep it in his pants.
Both my mum and dad had more children, just not with each other. None of my siblings got to live in their care for long. My mum kicked her habit when her 4th child was taken off her. I was around 28 and had had two kids of my own when she finally quit all substance abuse. She have tried to make up for not being there, but I can't really relate to her and I don't know, maybe it's the feelings you have a child. I couldn't understand why my parents left me to that, and thought that they hated me. According to my mother, they just didn't know, which is rubbish because none of them ever bothered to check, they both went on with their merry ways.
I know she feels guilty, but I just can't tell her it's okay. Because it's not. It took me years and years of therapy, and my own children to care for. For me to realise that I am not less than nothing, I am not just a mistake.
Psychological abuse breaks you too. As an adult I have a hard time connecting with other people, empathy for me is hard won.
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 Nikkie
by Nikkie
(Louisiana, USA)
Head injury:
ok i was just posting my story of incest and my computer just shut off.... well let me start this over but a shorter version my mothers oldest son raped me for years i was even pregant at one time , she knew about it and she hurt me too. to make a very long story short i ended up with a $80k piece of machine in my head and its becasue of the abuse as a child will post the long version later but i just want everyone to know that if you do not tell it will hurt you in the long run.
nikkie
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 Pamela R
by Pamela
(Maine, USA)
Where do I begin? As the second child, born to a Mother from Germany, and a Father who got her pregnant there, during the war, who brought her back with him (after getting her pregnant with my sister 5 years my senior), my life was simply over before it began!! 5 years after being in the U.S., my Mother was to go back to Germany for a visit. Well, that did not happen,because she was pregnant with me!!! That's the day my life was destined for severe abuse...
Not even a year-to-date, after my birth, my "GOD SENT" baby brother was born!!!
My Mother or sister was not treated well by my Fathers family (so the word goes); and she took everything out on me!! The abuse from her, mentally, physically, & emotionally, I could not have had it any worse!!! I remember her telling me I was "potty-trained" at a year old, because she refused to have two babies in diapers???!!! WHAT?? I DID AND LOVED EVERY MINUTE!!!
She actually gave me my baby book not long ago, and the only part that was filled in was my name, date of birth, time of birth, and weight...and OH YEAH...How she cried because I was not a boy!!
Anyway, I had no freedom growing up. NONE!!! I was a perfect student, nominated from everything to "Student Council, to Prom Queen, etc. etc. etc. But I was never allowed to stay after school for anything!!! My brother and sister got to come and go as they pleased!!!
I never had a birthday party, or attended one, slumber party, (didn't even know what it was). I was very popular in high school, and the "CHEERLEADERS" was my best friends...(in school)!!! My freedom was a fenced yard!!
My Mother abused me so badly, in every way she could, that I got the blame for everything that went wrong in her life!! My first memory of her is when I was 5 years old, playing in my drive-way, with a girl who lived across the street, and she called me into the house, because I had a pretty dress on, and was standing too close to a mud puddle (I GUESS), and she beat me profusely!!! She made me walk home from HIGH SCHOOL every day for lunch, while my brother had a car; but I had to go home, and I ask one day if I could go to the mall with a friend that you could see from my house, and she smashed a scalding (AND I MEAN SCALDING) in my face!!!! I went to school with blisters on my lips and nose, and that was not the first time!!!
I was never allowed to have friends call me, and forget guys calling at age 15, 16, or even 17!!!
My story with her is so long, entailed, descriptive, etc. that it would take me hours to finish... BUT "JESUS CHRIST AS MY WITNESS" abuse came from elsewhere!!!
MY FATHER!!!!I know I was very, very young, when it stared, because my Father is a pedophile!!! "I STOPPED THAT" by educating my precious baby girls as to the "GOOD TOUCH-BAD TOUCH!" MIND YOU, HE TRIED, and they immediantly told me. But, my sister lost custody of her daughter, abandoned her to her ex-husband, and moved from state to state with her "HER NEW RICH HUSBAND!" leaving my neice visiting my parents on week-ends(trying to do the right thing); but none of us knew about the other!! Until my daughter came to me, I phoned my sister, she admitted my Father had at times sexually abused her; but mine was an every morning (before he went to work), coming into my bedroom, and well...doing what he wanted!!! My sister was not around, and I WAS ALONE!!! I married, (the wrong man of course), and was severely abused by him too. He got me into a critical car wreck (while I was pregnant with our first child, and abandoned me in the hospital clinging to life!! I had soooo many injuries, had a replacement femur while I was awake (in 1977), and had to learn how to walk all over again. Took me over 2 years; but I did it and delivered my baby natural, 4 months later!!! THE SWEETEST, MOST PERFECT CHILD TO THIS DAY!!! Unfortunately, my Father stocked me every place I was(lived). Would show up when he knew my husband was at work, kids in school, and let himself in. I did divorce their father (I had 2 daughters,and 1 son by him), and re-married a man from Venezuela. Figured my Father would be a bit intimidated by him! But he found his way. He raped me on my Son's bed (HIS ONLY GRANDSON AT THE TIME) when I was 33!!
OH...did I forget to mention also, that when I turned 17, and started being asked questions by my friends at school, that I followed my Mother around the house, (for only two days); and the next thing I knew I was being moved into an apartment, all alone (NEVER KNOWING FREEDOM), by my sister and father!!! I think he was afraid I would start asking him next!!!! Got thrown into a BEARS DEN, with A BEE-BEE GUN!!! My sister never came bak once to check on me. I was picked out of two seniors from my high-school called the "Y.O.P." PROGRAM-or YOUTH OPPORTUNITY PROGRAM!!! So, I did have a job working at the Post Office; but of course, NO CAR!!! I was going to class only 3 hours a day in my senior year, graduating mid-term, and my life was shattered!!!
I am now 56 years old, with alot of healing going on still, and have an awesome relationship with my children and grandchildren, and that is my HAPPINESS!!!!
I would love to write a book, I have had many opportunities, and missed opportunities because of my past, that I wish now I would of taken advantage of.
I have studied with the GURU MAHARASHI in 1974-76, and I am working very hard at rekindling that life-style.
I would love to open a place where kids, teens, people of all ages could come for refuge, and learn meditation, yoga, or anything they feel would be "THE FIRST STEPS IN HEALING!!!!"
I just don't quite know how to go aboutit all; but with prayer and meditation, I sincerely hope that is my next calling in LIFE!!!!
AS "GOD IS MY WITNESS" MY STORY IS TRUE, CAN BE BACKED UP BY MANY, AND IS ACCURATE IN EACH DETAIL. BUT THERE IS ALOT THAT HAS BEEN EXLUDED AT THIS POINT AND TIME!!!!
SINCERELY, AND GOD BLESS THOSE WHO SUFFER...
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Child Abuse Story From Kaitlyn
by Kaitlyn
(Wisconsin, USA)
Nightmare:
My abuse story is not as bad as most. Most children on here have very grusome stories to share. Mine on the other hand, is not nearly as bad or graphic.
My mother and I had gotten along all throughout my early childhood. Then everything changed when I turned Eight. Lets just say my Grandfather tried hurting me and my Mother nearly punched him because of it. During that time I was a confused eight year old, who had no idea of what abuse was. The whole incident nearly broke my famiy apart for two years. I noticed changes in my Mother. Drinking became her number one priority. She started working at a bar every night of the week. She barely had time for m anymore. At this point, my Mother was pregnant. I could tell by the worried looks my Dad's side of the family gave her when they saw her down a drink. Not only had my Mom been drinking way more then usual her and my father faught ever night. My mother drank throughout her entire pregnancy. When my younger sister was born, I thought that she would finally stop drinkingand everything would go back to normal. I was way wrong.
She started drinking even more. She would come home at night wasted out of her mind. When she was home she was loaded. She was angry with her life. Then she decided to take it out on her eldest child (Me). Whenever my Father would be outside working, she would yell, scream, and twist my arm. At first I thought that this pain would end soon enough. So I kept it a secret that she was hurting me. I kept it a secret until one day my Dad walked in on her standing over the top of me punching my arm. He yelled at her to stop and told me to go upstairs into my little sisters room an sit there with her. At this point, I would be sleepingin my sisters room because I was terrified my mother would come home wasted and do something to my sister. She was turning into a monster. Finally at last my Mother filed for a divorce.
Everything was coming down on my shoulders at once. At home I had to become a Mother to my sister. I took the role of Mother over, becauase my mother was clearly not in the state of mind to be raising children. I am now fourteen. My mother has gotten worse. She has laid her hands on me a few times, and the Cops were called. They did nothing about it. She drinks more then ever. She fights with me constantly tell me "You are going to Die alone" "Your Dad and you are such useless people" "I never wanted you as my daughter" And much worse things. The only thing I want is my old Mom back.
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Child Abuse Story From Bree
by Bree
(Oregon, USA)
I can vivdly remember everything about this. It was two days before my dance concert, and I was psyched. It would be my first time performing in front of people.
My mother approached me with a form for a class for people interested in being police officers and fire fighters. Being someone who was interested in being a biochemist, I politely declined. She shouted at me for not being grateful for the choices that were offered, so I stayed there and handled the verbal abuse (as usual, I had become used to these things.)
At 10:09, my father came in and asked me why I didnt want to be in the program. So I told him my honest opinions (which I had NEVER done, because I was afraid of what was to come next.) I could see something snap in his eyes, and I backed away quickly. But he was quicker.
Redness was in his eyes. Oh his eyes were burning with pure anger, void of all love he said he had for me. His own daughter.
He pushed me to ground roughly, and I could feel fire in my right ankle. Hot, burning, searing fire.
Obviously there was no fire, it was just my nerves screaming at me that something had broken.
So for the next few minutes I sat there screaming my lungs out, saying that my leg was on fire and that he had broken it.
He called me a liar, and ungrateful of all of the things he gave me.
LIAR!
UNGRATEFUL!
B***H!
The other words kinda just faded away into nothingness in my memory.
My mother flew into the room screaming at me like a bird. She screamed the same dirty, filthy words at me.
My little sisters stayed in their rooms. It hurt knowing that the "sisterly love" would never work in the situations that mattered.
The next hour was a blur, but I know I curled up in the fetal position, refusing to talk to anyone.
My father refused to take me to the hospital, saying that it was just broken blood vessels.
Days later, the same man brought me there to get an X-ray.
Results= broken.
Seeing my fellow dancemates dance while I was in makeshift crutches hurt me the most since I would have been up there if HE hadn't hurt me.
Months later, I barely speak to him. It becomes a daily routine for me, avoiding the man who hurt me.
Seems reasonable right?
Not in HIS mind.
He says that he's going to always be there. He says that I look at the glass half empty. He says I'm ungrateful.
The verbal abuse hits me every day.
He forces me to hug him every day.
He forces me to "love him"
He wonders why I avoid him.
Has he not gotten it into his thick skull that he has done this to me?
He has given me emotional and physical pain that will scar me until I die.
If I could meet one person who has had this happen, please.. know you aren't alone.
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Child Abuse Story From Katie
by Katie
(Ohio, USA)
This is the first time I have told my story. I always doubted my own intuition because when the molestation happened, my parents tried to cover it up by telling me it was just a bad dream. Even though it only happened once, I still have flash backs.
Here is my story:
I was molested by my 3 year older half brother when I was four. He and one of his friends forced me into my bedroom closet. I can't remember the details exactly but I do know that one person held the door shut while the other harmed me. I believe I went to my parents afterward to tell them but I don't think they believed me b/c my dad responded by telling me I had had a nightmare and he took a water bottle (which he had marked with a cross and bones) and took me up to my bedroom near the closet and sprayed the floor, supposedly curing me off my bad dream. I think the incident was a one time thing & I also believe it was the cause of my parents divorce because they divorced a year later.
The situation has haunted me ever since and I desperately want someone to tell me the whole truth about what happend that day. Two weeks before my mother committed suicide, I asked her if I had been molested & if so, by whom, and her response was first "no," but then she said she thinks maybe I was but she didn't know by who. I also tried to non-chalantly ask my father about my "dream" when but he didn't elaborate and just told me that a bad dream is all that had happened.
Why do I so desperately need someone to tell me the truth? I asked my brother if anything had happened and he said no. He also said that he would tell me if he did know.
I have been terrified of my childhood bedroom ever since my childhood & I was so scared to sleep in that room that I began sleeping with a pillow over my head, which I still do to this day. Also, when my parents divorced, my mom told it was because my dad had become deeply depressed and that she had to leave his for his own good. However, in all of my adult life I have never seen my dad depressed, he just doesn't get depressed. Shortly after all this happened, my brother was sent with my aunt to live for 3 months. I called her to ask her why my brother was sent there to live and she said it was because my mother had a drinking problem and needed to get help. However, my grandmother said it happened because my mom was admitted into a psychiatric unit. WTF...why can't I find out the truth? Why do I have to relay on my own vague memories. The only person I think my mom would ever protect would be my brother; is that why she wouldn't tell me truth?
I wish someone would set me free of this pain and confusion. I wish my dad would come clean and explain to me the truth.
Thank you for listening.
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Child Abuse Story From Leanne
by Leanne
(New Jersey, USA)
I am 17 years old now and from a young age I was sexually abused by my cousin. One of my earliest memories is him rubbing my privates through my trousers on Christmas day, telling me that this was 'normal' and what cousins are supposed to do. I didn't know any better, as I was only 5, and he, 14.
When I was 7, and he 16, he began to ask if I could sleep over, and seeing as I am an only child my parents agreed, figuring it would be good to have company. What he didn't tell them, was that my auntie and uncle had gone out. We were alone. All was well at first, we played monopoly, watched telly, it was just normal. I went upstairs and got in the shower, as I was tired. I thought I had locked the door. He walked in, naked, and climbed in the shower with me. He then began to rub me and kiss me, forcing me up against the wall with his tongue down my throat and his fingers inside me. Then he forced me to perform oral on him.
When I was 9, he was 18, he got his drivers license. Our family thought we were the closest of cousins that got along so so well. And so, they let him take me out for a drive around the countryside one afternoon. By now, I was scared of him, and knew what he was doing was wrong. But I couldn't tell. He threatened to hurt me worse if I told. Anyway, in the car we pulled over into a field, where no-one could see. He forced me to strip, and he punched me hard so I fell to the ground. He forced his naked self onto me, and I couldn't breathe. He fingered me, then raped me until I bled. He got a wooden stick off of the ground and used it on me. He wouldn't let me up.
At around the same time, my mum started to go out with her friends more, meaning I would need a baby-sitter. And she insisted that my sensible, 'loving' cousin looked after me when she went out. He raped me every single thursday night, and laughed while he did.
I hate him. But he is gone now. He died a few years back, in a car crash. I went to the funeral and told everyone. They spat on his grave. He put me through years of misery and torment and suffering. He deserved that. He also left me with problems. Like now, I self harm. I trust no-one.. not even my own mother, as she failed to protect me from that vile waste of space. I have insomnia, and at one point I attempted suicide. I also had bulimia, however I conquered that demon.
So, I urge anyone going through this to tell someone, because if I could turn back time, I would. It would have been over so much earlier if I had told. The only person I blame for that, is myself.
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Child Abuse Story From Veronica
by Veronica
(Illinois, USA)
My mom:
I can't handle t. My mom has abused me since the beginning. She should grow up and see that I'm crying. All of my friends moms are perfect. I just want my mom happy. She always yells at me and hit me with the belt. My friend died all her head. And I told her "did your mom hit you" she said no. Her mom does not believe in hitting. My mom and dad are divorced. My sister has depression. Always it's me. My mom treats my sister and brother normaly but when it comes to me.. NO! I want to run away but.. I can't there is nowhere to run,. I only cut but it hurts.. But the other pain is gone. My mom always slaps me saying "there, something to cry for" my mom is always looking for money.. She sued my dad for more money. But that's suppose to be my and my sisters money. But, instead she buys it for smokes.
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Child Abuse Story From Lacie
by Lacie
(Texas, USA)
it all started when i was just four yrs old and it didn't end until i was six to seven yrs old. But at that age people are some times like, how can a child that age remembers something like that. Well i did,i knew there was something wrong about it but i didn't say anything because i didn't actually know what was going on. And it was my cousin half brother that started first he would get me alone from every on else and pull down my pants and start doing what he wanted to do to me,at that time i wasn't even in school and then i still didn't tell anyone then we moved and then my brother started messing with me and it was all the time almost everyday and it hurt alot but i still didn't say anything at the time i was living with my Aunt and Uncle because my mom was mixed in with drugs so i barely seen her. And the i moved in with my other Aunt and her son which is my cousin slash half brother that raped me stilled lived with her and my cousin which is my cousin slash brothers's brother he also raped me but they never did it together,when my he would or lets call him D my half brother slash cousin. and we will call my cousin T. Ok so D would get me alone or when i was taking a bath he would take me out and rape me and put me back in the when i got out of the bath i would be getting ready for bed T would go tell his sister R that we were going to play for a while and he would take me to his room and rape me. I hated this but i still told noone about this. It happened every single day until one day R came to T's door and started nocking T left me on the bed and he threw his clothes on and went out of his window and i hurried and got dressed and opened the door and R and M her boyfriend started questioning me about what was going on. well i told her every thing that was and been happening to me and she told my Aunt that i am living with well i didn't see her much because she worked all the time,and all she did was go into their room D and T both and started slapping them but that was all she did. and she told me to tell her if it happened again and that night i woke up in the middle of the dining room with him leanin on me then he ran out of the room and then i got up and went to my Aunt's door which is right my the dining room and started beating on it yelling and screaming and i was crying and i fell asleep right in front of her door.Then the next day i learned that would be moving to my Aunt S's house were my Bother R raped me at and it didn't started happening again until i was living their for awhile the it started up all again and he would take me in the woods and in the shed we had right my our house and then after a long time of rape one day my cousin and sisters were walking i guess they heard me in pain and then he zipped his pant's and fled i caught sight of the i was so scared and i started bawling and i ran as fast as i could to the house and i hid under a small side table and it took them a while to find me and then they carried me out side and i was there when they called my Aunt S and told her what they seen and what i had told them she came home and took me staight to the doctor and they checked on me and asked me stange questions then we went through series of other doctors for this were i told every thing and R was the only one to be gotten done with T and D was still out their then i got put in Foster care were my Sister's boyfriend's parents adopted us and they are my mom and dad and they keep me safe i moved their at 9 and i am now 15 almost 16 in almost five months August. and just a couple of months ago i finally got D put in prison but it was my case it was two other cousins that were also raped by him,but i testified and he was sentenced to two life sentences and i am now starting my own case against him so he will get more time. and they say T was too young when it happened that they can't charge him.ya ya i hate that they say that but i am so happy now i have a great life and great family and i am ready to graduate from my online schhol but im only in 10th grade and i Want to become and actress when i get older,but one down turn that affected me in the future is that im uncomfortable with dating and even the idea of it.I don't want to be used again and abused again,and im scared for that but i hope i will out grow the fear of being alone with a guy,well im comfortable with my brothers and my dad and my dad's friends and my brother's friends they are all like family but others guys that are all around. i just don't know what to do sometimes. And i am so happy to share my story with all of the world because i want to do something for girls and women when i get older that went throught the same things as me.so thank you for listening and reading this :)i love every one and i am sstill trying to forgive all that's done wrong to me .. Thank You !!
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Child Abuse Story From Justice
by Justice
(Location Undisclosed)
My story:
Mom’s name was DL****** but later changed back to W*****. Daddy’s name is JL***** Sr... I have an older brother who was born 21 months and 17 days apart. My parents told me that is was a very scary day in their life. My older brother was not breathing when he was born. The doctors did everything they could but said it was too late. Daddy told him no we have not he got on his knees and began to pray. When he was done he picked up my cold and blue brother. He began to breathe the doctor looked shocked at what had just happened. They named him JL***** Jr. They were a happy family of three until was born. December 1995 change the live my brother knew to be so. He had to fill his shoes as a big brother at just one in a half. When I was born I was every parents dream. I was born 8 pounds 3 ounces 19 inches long and very healthy. There is not much to say about my birth God wanted me to be healthy so I was. They named me Justice L*****. My life as the baby of the family was coming to an end my sister was going to be born 23 months and five days after me. Also another very scary day for my family the doctors told mom that she was going to have emergency surgery if she wanted to save the life of my unborn baby sister. In the surgery room the doctors found out that her cord was wrapped around her neck twice. They got to her in time and saved her very young life. They name her JN L****. J and JN are the best siblings that God could give a person. We fight and argue but when it comes down to it we love each other and that is all that matters.
Right after my sister was born my parents started to grow apart from each other. One worked in the day and one worked night they never really saw each other. Things started to get a little bit crazy at home. My parents started to work less so they would see each other more. Which means they had a lot of fights most of the fights we did not see because they were behind closed door. That don’t mean we could not hear them. The fights started to get violent and people started to get hurt. Daddy came home one night drunk. He started the fight. That night change my life forever. I was so scared. Daddy got a gun and pointed at us and said choice. We were choosing to live or to die. JN moved over to the side that mom was on and so did J. I did not move I did not understand why daddy had a gun pointed at his children. He looked at me and said choose I was confused he pointed the gun at me and pulled the trigger but nothing happened. Mom grabbed me and held me close I was crying. I just didn’t understand why my parents were fighting. Later that night mom got us and we ran to the car and drove off. Daddy was not far behind us he was very anger at mom for taking us. When we got to my grandma’s house Mom said to stay in the car she called grandma and grandpa to calm daddy down. They got daddy calmed down so he left there not knowing if he was going to see his kids again. We lived with mom’s brother for a while but mom could not afford to have us so we went to live with grandma. It is like mom dropped off the face of the earth because we did not see her for a long time. I was living with grandma, grandpa, my siblings, cousins, and two aunts. There were ten of us kids living in a three bedroom house.
It was not long after I got there I started Pre-K. The first few weeks were okay until my older cousin asked me if I wanted to play a game called mommy and daddy I said yes because someone was showing me love but the game was not really a game. He would kiss me and I would pull away which led him to him me. After a while of being hit from pulling away from a kiss I gave in and let him kiss me. Weeks later he would began to touch my body with my clothes on it did not feel wrong. A few days pasted and he would began to help me take baths at night. While he was helping me he would touch my body. He would begin to rub between my legs I did not care because that is what daddy did when he gave me a bath. After that night he wants to give me a bath everyday twice a day. He would then take his clothes off in front of me and ask me questions about what I show. Then he began to touch himself and he told me to touch his private part. Still nothing felt wrong. He would ask me to stuck his private part. Still nothing felt wrong. My cousin would have my do his so him on the bus on the way to school. It still did not feel wrong. He got to the point that he wanted to have sex with me and he did. Nothing felt wrong. Him hurting me was my life for five years.
I got to get out of that house my dad came and got me and my siblings. the abuse did not stop there my dads friends son would later abuse me. An 18 year old man raping a ten year old kid. It is not right at that moment things started to feel so very wrong He raped me three more times before i turned eleven. I thought things were over when i turn twelve but i was wrong my dad began to be an even heavier drunk which cause us to see the bad side of he again. He would do things he does not remember the nexted day. Things that i would never talk about ever because it hurt so bad to talk about it. This would continue until i broke my silence and told someone what was going on. But no one would listen. August of 2011 people finally took me serious i tried to take my life because i could not take life any more. I live with my mother now but life still is not any better. I try to do right so that the horrible things will stop. I don't think anyone is listening to what i'm saying because i need things to change so that i will have a future. Maybe it just my fault that all of this is happening
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 Noah
by Noah
(Location Undisclosed)
My dad slapped me, punched me, threw me into walls, knocked me out a few times, did whatever he could to hurt me. When i had enough I would hit him back and he would grab me with his nails on the shoulders and Chuck me into a counter or into a wall he didn't scare me at all but he hurt me usually I wouldn't do what he said and he would chuck me to the floor and kick me in the stomach sometimes so hard I would have bruises for at least 3 months and sometimes I would puke up blood. I've been adopted twice both were abusive parents and so was my real mom and dad. I'm 12 and have been through so much. I play soccer and if we lost a game he would chuck my face into counter, he would make me play if i broke my ankle and through the whole game no matter how much I would be limping he would never give me a break. And he even made me play when some guy was going for the soccer ball and he missed and kicked me in the chest and I got the wind knocked out of me and couldn't breathe and I would lay on the field all my team mates huddled around me and my dad would walk on the field and say get up! and kick me in the side of my stomach and i would slowly get up with blood dripping from my nose (My nose bleeds really easily, usually every soccer game I would get at least two nose bleeds.) but even when he did the worst of things I was still not scared of him. Sometimes i would even back talk him and he would kick me in the face. I wasn't really bothered by it. The only thing is that all my "parents" ruined me. All i ever enjoy now is pain. Even though I am not scared of my dad I still don't like being abused. I've tried to kill myself multiple times. I always wondered if its usual when you've been beat your entire life to like pain. I am not too scared to tell anyone I'm just worried no one will believe me and call me a liar. I told a lot of people before and they all called me a liar. My friends say i always look so miserable. I have even been in a fight on the soccer field and I punched this kid so hard that I knocked him out and he had to be taken to the hospital. I was about to be sent to juvy but my dad bailed me out. My dad took me out of the game and chucked an ice water bottle at my face. And it gave me a nosebleed. Yeah so um that's my story.
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Child Abuse Story From Cory
by Cory
(North Carolina, USA)
Stay Strong:
When I was a little boy (I think I was around 6 years old) and lived with my grandma and my other siblings. We lived there because my mother was the youngest of my grandma’s 7 children and she was a single parent and grandma was helping her by letting her stay with her.
My grandma had 6 other kids besides my mom. Well, as a child, I was the usual little curious boy who liked to play ball and climb trees and all of that kind of stuff. I was also a budding artist. I loved drawing pictures and was quite good. My grandma, aunts and uncles often said I had talent drawing like one of my older male cousins whom I will refer to in this story as “Park” who was around 18 or 19 years old. He and his family (his mom was my mother’s older sister) they lived in another state.
Well one day, his family came to visit grandma. I was so excited because I had drew several pictures and wanted to show them to “Park”. I was following him around the house trying to show him the pictures I drew. He walked into the bathroom and I think I followed him in or he pulled me in (I cannot remember) but I recall he shut the door and was pulling his penis out to pee but suddenly he looked at me, and before I knew it, he pulled me by head and shoved his penis in my mouth and I think I choked and as quickly as he pushed it in, he took it out. He used the bathroom and we walked out of the bathroom.
I had no idea what happened. We just went outside to the porch with other relatives and he looked over my pictures and told me how great they were. I was so happy that I didn’t even think about what happened in the bathroom nor did I tell anyone later. I was just so happy that “Park” said I had talent drawing.
I am not sure when I actually remembered this incident but I know when I did eventually remember it, I could recall it with such clarity like it had just happened. I never told anyone about this and I do not think that it has adversely affected me that much because I am normal middle aged man. I have 3 children and am married to a wonderful woman whom I love.
I have not seen “Park” since that day (over 35 years ago). I am now 40+ years old. I think he probably remembers the incident because about 10 years ago, we were both stationed in Germany and because of how I was raised, if family is around, then I was taught that we should be in touch because you only have one family.
But every time I called “Park” and try to schedule a time to visit (I had just got married to my wife and he was married to an Asian lady and they had a very beautiful daughter) he made some excuse on why he could not make it. My wife was saying how come your cousin seems like he doesn’t want to see us. I then realized that “Park” probably remembered.
After getting back to the States a few years later and catching up with family I learned that “Park’s” daughter was highly sexual as a young child. My family thought that she was a sex-addict. Unbeknown to them, she showed all the typical signs of a child who has been sexually abused. She even tried to have sex with a couple of her cousins but they just thought she was a freak. However, I know the truth because I know what the Pervert did to me in the bathroom when I was 6. I can only imagine what he did to his daughter (my cousin).
I just pray for her. Now she is grown and has children of her own but I heard recently, that “Park” and his wife often fly there to pick up the grandchildren and bring them back with them. I hate to think of “Park” having those children around and I pray for them. Thank you for listening. May God bless each and every one of you who suffer at the hands of a pervert.
Years ago, before I came to Germany, I was stationed in "Park's" mother town. I often visited her and my cousins (his siblings) and his older sister told me one night that we were talking, that she used to pimp "Park's" out to his teachers when they were kids. She was a year older than he. I thought it was cool because I thought it was female teachers but she told me that it was male and female teachers.
Then a few years later, my mother told me that when she was a teenager and visiting her oldest sister (Park's mom) that they had to lock the door at night because "Park's" father would come in the room at night and try to rub their privates. I asked her who was he trying to feel and she told me he was trying to feel her and his own daughters. I think I then knew what happened to "Park". He was probably molested by his perverted father.
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Child Abuse Story From Victoria
by Victoria
(Location Undisclosed)
I was sexually abused from the age of 9 to the age of 15. It has been 7 years since i stood in court at my older cousins trial but it still feels like it just happened.
I'm not all that good with words but i wanted to write this for two reasons.Firstly because i just need to do something to get these painful feeling out of me and secondly in the hope that sharing my experiences may help someone just a bit by knowing they are not alone.
I have good parents. but they have lots of problems of their own. They both experienced abuse and neglect in some form when they were young. When I was a child I also had many problems. I was diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome(a mild form of autism) and had many behavioral problems.
My parents let me down in many ways. They didnt always put me first and from the ages of 5 to 10 i looked after myself , my baby brother and sister, and in many ways my parents as well.
No one really looked out for me, except J---. J--- was my cousin and he was six years older than me. He was my best friend. I looked up to him to the extent that i practically worshiped him. We also were very close as we went through a lot of traumatic experiences together. He gave be emotional security aswell as physical protection and provision. He would steal food if I needed it and beat up anyone who threatened me.
J--- did a lot for me but one day he said he needed me to do something for him.I was 9 and we were playing Final Fantasy 4 in his bedroom. I will never forget the way my heart stopped for a few moments when he said 'pull your pants down and lie down'. I was confused and i just stared at him. He gently pushed me onto the bed and pulled my knickers down. They were purple.
At this point i tried to get up. He wasn't gentle anymore. He held me down and performed oral sex for what seemed like ages. When he finally let me go I ran home. I felt an overwhelming amount of panic. Although i knew what he had done was wrong, I couldn't understand why my feelings about the incident were so strong. They seemed disproportional to the situation.
I told my Dad what had happened. He was angry and went round and expect roughed J--- up a bit. A few days later I was playing on the computer upstairs at my grandmas house. J--- came up. He came in and just said 'sorry' and then started playing the game with me. There was silence between us for a long time but then after a few hours everything seemed normal again. I thought that it must have been just a strange thing that happened and i let it go out of my mind.
Things were normal for about the next six months. however things at home had started becoming really difficult and social services were getting involved with my family which was making my parents very angry. This was mainly because i wasnt attending school i think.
Anyway i ended up going to live with my Grandma. J--- was already living there too. I was happy. Me, J--- and Grandma living like a proper family, three square meals a day, no parents fighting and no little people to look after.
My grandma used to say to me ' I love you, but I love J--- more' One Christmas we both got exactly the same set of present(which was a lot) but J--- also got a bike. I used to think that this was ok but looking back this favoritism really damaged my self esteem.
I cant really remember exactly when the abuse started because it was such a gradual process. It started with J--- asking me to sit on his lap alot then gradually progressed to him touching my genitals. He would massage my back and i would let him(even enjoy it) but every now and again he would give my breasts a little squeeze. I didn't like it when he touched me in a sexual way but i let him 'massage' me because i just enjoyed someone touching me. It was the only kind of affection i had. I was just a kid i didn't know were it would end up
The progression to actual intercourse was extreamly gradual. I think the nature of this gradual progression was one of the reasons I didn't tell anyone. By the time i knew I wanted out it felt too late.
The abuse got worse and worse untill it was everyday. There is no way i can decently described the things he did to me. It also because a lot more violent.
J--- would swing between being violent and threatening to being the perfect 'loving father figure' in my life. I remember one occasion when he was doing something horrific to me while calmly counselling about my career options. This kind of inconstancy between what he was doing and saying was a very disturbing feature and added to my confusion.
One of the things i find the hardest to come to terms with is that my Grandma knew exactly what was going on , yet didn't seem to care. I can forgive my cousin for what he did to me as I can see it was the result of his own very disturbed upbringing.
I do forgive my grandma but i find it very difficult to understand why she loves J--- more than me. She said i was lieing in court and took his side and still does to this day. However I recently found out that she was abused by her cousin and I think this makes her think that its a normal thing and that I am the bad one because I gave him a criminal record.
The abuse had a devastating effect on my mental health. By the time I was 14 i was so disturbed i couldn't function as a normal human being. I was diagnosed with childhood psychosis and obsessive compulsive disorder. I learned to 'switch off' my mind when the abuse was happening and I believe this is what led to me becoming so detached from reality. I also suffer from strange fears and anxieties. For example i thought if I watched even a second of Strictly Come Dancing I would die and I was terrified of plastic bottles (i was seriously messed up)
Things getting this bad was a blessing in disguise. I was sent to a treatment centre for disturbed adultesents . Eventually the truth about the abuse came out.
He was charged with two counts of rape and two of indecent assault as these were what there was evidence for. He was found guilty of both the indecent assaults. My barrister advised me to agree to having the rape charges 'put on file' as they were not sure if there was enough evidence and the pressure of giving evidence was really negatively affecting my wellbeing. This basically meant that he escaped going to prison.
I regret not giving more evidence, especially as I recently found out he also abused my sister on a few occasions. When I first went to the police i only told them a fraction of the abuse because at the time I still felt a strong need to protect him. Although I have regrets about this i try not to think about it as what is done is done.
Where am I now? ...
I'm ok. I have moved to another part of the country and started a new life. After the court case i finally got the help I needed and had proper role models in my life. I have come to know Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savoir and this has changed everything. God has made me into a new creation and adopted me as his child.
There is still very real pain in my heart but there is also healing.
I have been able to restore a good relationship with my Mum and Dad. I still actually sometimes see my Grandma although this relationship is difficult and I am beginning to question if its right for me to continue it. I forgive my cousin and those that let me down when they should have protected me. What they did was wrong but I forgive them as God has forgiven me. I feel sorry for them as they are all part of a horrible cycle of abuse and I pray that that cycle will stop with me.
I am currently training to be a teacher. This is because it was partly through being able to go back to school and the provision of amazingly patient teachers that God started to restore my life.
I thank anyone who has taken the time to read this sincerely. Writing it has really helped me.
Finally I want to say to anyone who is being abused or has gone through such a trauma. Lift your eyes to God, he knows you, he loves you, he is not ashamed of you. You are so valuable to him that he have his only son to die in your place so that you can be forgiven for all your sin and start a new life in him.
God Bless
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Child Abuse Story From Alice
by Alice
(Location Undisclosed)
This is a story of emotional abuse. I think the hardest thing for me is accepting that * was abused. I've been told so many times that it's all in my head, or that I'm making a big deal out of nothing, I almost start to believe it. One of my earliest childhood memories is of me hiding outside the kitchen, having just finished crying, and listening to my mother talk about me. She called me a weak, emotional child and mocked me, saying, "that girl cries over everything!" I was never encouraged to show emotion growing up. If I laughed out loud, my mother hushed me. If I cried, I was scorned, my problems thrown aside like trash. To this day I find it nearly impossible to cry, even when alone, because it feels like I'm doing something wrong. I can remember one time, in middle school, I broke two toes falling down some stairs. When I showed my mom, and tried to do something about it, she called me a baby and told me to get over it. Over the next month or so while I was limping around, she accused me of just doing it to get attention. It was the same with any injury or illness I ever had. My mother would call me a hypochondriac, and yell at me if I asked to go to the doctor. My mother expected perfection from me in all things. From schoolwork, to my choice of friends. Anything less than an A was unacceptable and would lead to hours long tirades that left me exhausted. I remember one semester in high school I got all As, except for one B. I was so excited to show my mom I rushed home. But when I showed her the report card she was furious about the B and threw it at me. Things in life that made me happy, such as writing and music were openly scorned by my mother, and seen as a waste of time. Around high school, the stress of trying to keep up with my mothers demands began to get to me. I developed severe insomnia, sleeping only 1 to 2 hours a night. This led to depression, and eventually self harm. When I was 18 I tried to commit suicide by downing several bottles of sleeping pills. Instead they just made me sick. I remember sitting in the bathroom puking, and hearing my mom complain in the next room about being woken up. Shortly after that incident I tried to tell my mom about my depression, because I wanted help. She scoffed at me, saying depression was for the weak minded and that I was just trying to get attention like always. Its been nearly two years since I moved away from my parents. And though what I went through was painful, I'd like to think that I'm a stronger person for it. I'm in a wonderful relationship with a man who is kind and supportive. And I no longer think about suicide. But whenever I talk to my mom, I feel that familiar trembling child start to take hold again.
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Child Abuse Story From Dylan
by Dylan
(Location Unknown)
i was a 14 year old boy, i never got in trouble, i was organize, and caring for my little sister.
i was 14 year old when it al strated. i was watching TV with my dad, we were alone. he was geting very drunk, and i didnt even realized it until it was 10 pm when the movie ended. he shouted loke crazy, and made me jumpe. i stared into his eye for a while, while he stared back at me, then he started to touch his penis while saying things to me. he grabed me against the couch and touk my pants and underwear down. i screamed for help but remimberd that my mom was not home, i was alone withe this drunk. the pain was the worst. i screamed and i recieved a punch in my tempel, the anotherone, until i blackout.
he continued to abuse me until i was 18.
i never had the courige to tell anyone until i got married. a moth ago my dad died with cancer. he left, but my traumas, nightmears, fears didnt
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Child Abuse Story From Danielle
by Danielle
(USA)
Blocked memories but still a SURVIVOR:
Well how do I start off, my mother married her 2nd husband when I was very young probably around 5 or so... I do not really remember much of anything when I was younger, which somewhat worries me. But anyways I know after awhile my mom and I were scared of him... He would have mood swings like crazy and any little thing set him off. I never realized this until years later after she finally got up the courage to leave him but he used to beat her up even rape her, she was scared to death of him, I used to see her with bruises but as a child she just told me she bumped into some furniture. I remember one time he threatened to cut off my hand with a butcher knife because he caught me looking at some of his personal magazines, and he looked dead serious about that too, I was so scared I was crying really hard, I think my mother saved me that day just in time too, his eyes were full of nothing... Whenever I acted out at school I would get reports sent home with me, sometimes he would hit me on the butt with his shoes, or belt, or hand, one time he asked me to lower my pants and he would whoop me raw, I remember one time I was suppose to get 50 lashes with a stick from a tree, he called it my friend, but at 20 lashes I was saved because his friend was calling him to hang out, I was soo grateful, I don't know how I ever managed to sit in class with my butt hurting but I did, and nobody found out, my mother never knew the extent either, sometimes she would be there too but she couldn't say a word because he would lash out at her too. When he would come home drunk I would make sure I would stay to my room but my mother couldn't avoid him and they would always start to argue, more him than her, she wouldn't really say anything because she feared him too much to anger him any further. There is also another time when ... I am not too sure what to call it, but he would play wrestle with me and I think he got too into it one day and almost smothered me, I remember I was having a hard time breathing, of course i am still thinking he is still playing but at that time he still wouldn't let up and again I was saved because my mother came home then, and come to think of it, I can not stand to wear collar shirts because it feels like I am suffocating. My mom split from my father when I was around 14, my little sister luckily never endured what I went through and I am grateful for that, nobody really knows what I went through not fully, I am still hazy on certain things and like I said earlier I think some of my memories are repressed, not too sure... but my mom and I have moved on with our lives, I joined the military and started my own lil family and i have the best husband in the world who will do anything for us to make us happy, my mother is doing great and even has a wonderful boyfriend! I would love to know why I cant remember my childhood memories though, all my friends remember so much and they talk about it even my sister remembers but she is 15 i am 24, I don't know if that matters but then again my husband remembers a lot of his childhood days... But if this has ever happened to you just know that you can get through and survive and start anew the way you want to. :)
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Child Abuse Story From Camilla
by Camilla
(Location Undisclosed)
I hate my dad. I make one wrong move and he hits me. I'm scared to be around him because he might get mad and do it again. Im so scared of him. I wish I could run away but there'd be no where to go and I can't leave my sister behind. What if he found me again I don't know what he'd do. He always tells me he loves me. I just don't belive him any more. I cut myself. Maybe I should just kill myself.
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Child Abuse Story From Victoria
by Victoria
(Massachusetts, USA)
my mom died and I had to live with my grandmother and my father, I was six at the time and my aunt use to sent me here and there to go get this or that to bring it over her room,so my father's cousin use to follow me around but he was maybe twenties, he use to rape me and then ask me to clean up and he would sent me different way and I would try not to be around him a lot but I guess it was impossible he would win all the time I use to be so scared of him.
And then I moved in with my dad and his new wife and my other dad's cousin, he was my history teacher during the day and my rapist at night.I got older still being raped about fifteen got my first boyfriend slept with my boyfriend one time next thing I know I'm pregnant. I had a son, twenty years later I see some signs that I don't like on my son, making me think who is the real dad. Got helped my self now going to get help for my son asap I'm not let him hurt nobody.
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Child Abuse Story From Stacy For Charlie
by Stacy
(Location Undisclosed)
Someone I know and love just told me "the rest" of their dirty little secret. I knew that "Charlie" had suffered abuse from his mother. She was an alcoholic and drug addict and would give her children (ages 8 and under) alcohol in their bottles to make them sleep so she didn't need a babysitter to party. When she became drunk, she would slap the penis of my friend, then around 5 to 7 years old. He asked her to stop and it hurt him terribly. She died of cirrohsis when "Charlie" was 8 so the abuse stopped. Well now "Charlie" is 42 and is an alcoholic. He is not abusive but drowns his sorrows daily. He recently hit a "bottom" and confessed to me the rest of the story. After his mom died, his dad remarried and had two more children. The oldest one, "Jack" was ten years younger than "Charlie". "Charlie" was very jealous that "Jack" had a mom and dad and used to punish him in the same way him mom punished him, by slapping his penis. "Charlie" told me that he stopped doing this once "Jack" was old enough to form words and asked him to stop. "Charlie" was probably 12 or 13 at the time.
I want "Charlie" to talk to a counselor but I am worried that this was a crime punishable by law. Even as a preteen, I don't think he understood what he was doing to his little brother. The homes he grew up in were so abusive and many of the females were pregnant by uncles and other family members by the age of 10 or 12. I don't know if he should talk to someone about this, but I think it is the only way for him to let it go. He doesn't think his brother remembers but his brother has made a rough life for himself and "Charlie" carries that burden deepening his abuse of alcohol and drugs.
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Child Abuse Story From Shilpi
by Shilpi
(India)
I am 26years old now,but i have been through the trauma of child abuse by my own uncle(my mother's cousin brother)when i was 12 years old.as he always seemed so reliable to my parents,they could never understand his intentions.I was not very good in studies because of which i could not gather confidence in me to tell my parents his reality.I always thought what if they do not trust me.Being a child initially i may not understand his wrong actions,but the day he was about to cross his limit,i was sleeping at that moment with my brothers and sisters,i woke up immediately after realizing his intentions.I give the entire credit to dear
god for awakening and rescuing me at the right time otherwise that night would have haunted me throughout my life.My mother still doesn't know about this incidence as i still do not know how to tell her about his own brother's ill activities."Forget The Past"its easy to say but difficult to do at least for me,i can never forget that scary incidence which grew me instantly.Today I hardly trust my own relatives either.But of course I am not scared,that person should rather be scared and ashamed of his activity.I just want to request all the parents to trust their kids on these sensitive issue at least.
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Child Abuse Story From Nicole
by Nicole
(Location Undisclosed)
When I was 11 years old my older brother molested me I'm not sure for how long but everytime my mother left for work he would molest me at the time I though it was normal but at that age I didn't know about sex he would tell me that it was normal when he told me to stroke his private area then he would touch me as far as rubbing his penis on my private area he would try to stick it in but I told him no then when I would take showers he would come in and peek on me but said he couldn't get in because he mite get caught by mom I've never told anyone I'm 19 now and I'm scared, nervous and sick to my stomach of what happened to me I went to a councilor and told her my secret I was crying and a mess but I had to tell someone I couldn't keep it in but now I need to tell my mother but I'm scared I don't how to tell her.
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Child Abuse Story From Caitlin
by Caitlin
(Britain)
I don't really know if this was child abuse towards me but, I only remember things from the age of 8 onwards my dad was/is a no good cocaine and cannabis using alcoholic he would come home late whenever he was off of work drunk and usually high you could tell he was high because of his cold grey eyes that would look you up and down.
(My mum was a completely lovely mum sometimes she'd give us the odd tap but nothing else)she would usually be asleep he would come in her room start an argument with her chuck her off the bed he would slap her, punch her, pull her hair and even strangle her. i would be putting my fingers in my ears screaming so i wouldn't have to hear anything.
one time my older brother tried to help her. He rugby tackled my dad my dad started strangling him my brother was only 11 once me and my twin brother ran in the rain without any shoes crying sopping wet to his friends house.
They called the police they came to calm him down and never arrested him or charged him with ANYTHING. i had always been uncomfortable around him. He was very controlling towards my mum. he STILL is when ever she goes to the shop. He wants her receipts, she's not allowed any friends. She does EVERYTHING for him. when ever he attacks her she says she'll take us and leave him but she NEVER does.
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Child Abuse Story From Kenneth G
by Kenneth G
( New York, USA)
I'm a 14 years old asian school boy whos about to go to highschool, and my mom is divorced with my dad 3 years ago and right now i have to live with my mom. now here is the thing, it was last weeks thursday around 7PM-8PM where i came back home from my friends house after our project was being completed, and all the sudden my mom came out of the room and start to hitting me asking me where i was for 1 hour and 30 minutes but i told her before thst i was going out side to do some work but she ignored me i guess. after 2 minutes of hardcore beating on my face, she start to use items that was hard like my post board then switching to hard items like wooden broomstick and thank god my neihbor(i think i spelled it wrong) came out and stoped her. my nose was bleeding and i had 3 scars at the side of my cheek. i decided that i should move out and find my brother then live with him instead but since he just came back from iraq, i want him to rest for a while. i was trying tofight back but i thought that i cannot hit a woman even when im right on the point where im about to. so everyday when i come home i have to lock my self in my room after i go to bathrrom and finish my dinner, i feel really uncomfrotable in my apartment.
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Child Abuse Story From Scarlett E
by Scarlett E
(United Kingdom)
I don't really think the time I've had is as hard as the times of some others on this site, but it still feels nice to share it.
Firstly, I'll explain about my mother. She was abused physically and mentally as a child and is suicidal and depressed now as a result. I'm not exactly sure when it started, but my dad has wanted to leave my mum for a very long time. Instead of leaving (my dad has always been too scared to make decisions)he just only concentrated on work, putting no time aside for his children at all. I mean, that hurt but not as much as what mum did. She would scream at me constantly about the tiniest things. For example, if I wet the bed at the age of 5 she'd scream and call me things like "worthless" and "disgusting". I remember once when I was ill with a stomach bug- around 7 or 8- and threw up on the carpet because I couldn't get to the toilet on time, she'd yell at me and made me clean up all the mess and the smell made me so nauseous I felt like I was going to throw up again, but thank god my stomach was empty. On top of all the Emotional abuse at home from my mum, I also got bullied since I was 5 years old. By the time I was 9 I felt useless, worthless and fat. I'd forever compare myself to other girls and, eventually, I stopped eating. This was mainly because I wanted mum to see how much she had hurt me but neither my mum or my dad noticed. I started pulling out my hair and had a bald patch on the front of my head. While I was a thin child and not eating, my mum would still call me fat and ugly. Say things like "I wish I could kill you" or "I wish I'd never had you". If I ever cried or annoyed her in any other way (or sometimes just because she had had a bad day at work) she'd make me stand outside the house in the freezing cold for a few hours until I "decided to respect her"
Time passed in exactly the same way for many years and I began to become so fake I didn't feel like I had an identity any more. I'd copy the way other people behaved and on the outside I made everyone laugh so they wouldn't hate me, but on the inside there was a constant pain in my chest and I felt hollow. When I was 14 I cut for the first time instead of pulling out my hair or scratching. I have cut since that age getting increasingly deeper and trying to drain myself of all my blood. I had tried to kill myself quite a few times and, when I was 15, I decided to tell a friend. They persuaded me to tell my mum, telling me all the things she would say to me and help me with. Stupidly, I listened, and went home to talk to my mum. I showed her my arm and she stared at it in disgust and said "no wonder you cut, you're so ugly and fat and stupid" and said some other things I don't want to recall. I ran into the bathroom with my phone and locked myself in there. I called a friend who was famous for escaping from her house in tricky situations, and while I was, my mum was banging on the bathroom door calling me a coward. Through the curtain of tears I explained to my friend what was going on and she helped me to run out the house. I went to my best friend's house and her mum spoke to me for an hour, and at around 11pm I finally went home and I will never forget what mum said: "was it worth it running away? I'm ashamed to have you as a daughter. Your best friend's mum only helped you because she doesn't have to live with you and her daughter is much cleverer and prettier"
After a few suicide attempts, and by the end disappearing into my room around 3 times a day to cut, I was put into a psychiatric ward for adolescents after dragging myself to Accident & Emergency at a local hospital. Thank god I live in the UK so everything was free.
I'm still in hospital now, and have been told that I have "Borderline Personality Disorder". It's kind of a relief to have a label- especially since everything on the list of symptoms reflects me- because it means there are other people out there like me.
The future looks a bit brighter, but I'm probably just saying that because I don't like to disappoint people.
To be honest, I feel no better and have been at hospital for 5 months.
I hope one day it will get better, but I'll just have to wait and see... or die.
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Child Abuse Story From Helen
by Helen
(United Kingdom)
im currently in an abusive family. i was adopted from the age of 3 along with my sister who was 4. ever since i can remember my dad has sexually abused me and he started to have sex with me at the age of 12. im now 13 and every day of my life he acts in a sexual way calling me names and talking dirty. i dont want any trouble because i know he loves me and you dont bite the hand that feeds you. p.s he is a christian and my mum dosent know about him being like this, he attacks me more than my sister.
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Child Abuse Story From Evie
by Evie
(Location Undisclosed)
The first time that I can remember being abused was when I was about 3 years old. I was born to my parents who were 18 when they had me. I lived with my dad, his mum and brother. His brother, my uncle was 15 at the time. He was baby sitting me and I was in the bath. He crouched down beside me and told me that we were going to play a special game. I wasn't allowed to tell anybody. He said that it would just be between us. I agreed thinking we would play a cool game. I watched him as he took off his clothes and sat down next to me in the bath. He began to touch me, tickling me to make me laugh. He then said it was time to get out and he needed to dry me off. He started to touch my private parts and had me rub against him. He rubbed the towel so hard against me that my private area was red raw. He then put me to bed. My dad and grandma said that the rash would have been nappy rash as I wore one to bed still. He had played that game until I was about 7 or 8. He began to come into my room while I was sleeping and he would rape me. I still remember the foot steps then his hand placed over my mouth. It would happen usually once a week until I was 12. It was then at school we had a talk with police about child abuse and I realized how bad what he was doing to me and it wasn't normal. I told him that I was going to tell my dad about what he was doing to me. He began to hit and punch me. I remember screaming. One of the neighbors heard me screaming and called the police. When they came I had passed out and he was raping me. My uncle went to jail for two years. Later that year my grandma passed away from cancer and I moved away with my dad to start over. I have been in therapy since then and suffer nightmares and flash backs. I'm now 16.
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Child Abuse Story From Leah
by Leah
(England)
I just found this site But I'm not sure how much I should write on here I'm nearly 13 years old and don't know what to do my parents split up about a year ago. At first I was really happy because I didn't have to put up with all the dirty stuff know more. He promised me that if I kept going to see him it wouldn't happen anymore, But things are getting worse now and my mum has a new boyfriend and my dad is on his own and if I stop going to see him he won't have anyone and it makes me feel guilty and he says he don't mean to hurt me and that he loves me and he keeps crying saying if anyone finds out they will lock him up and that would be my fault. I feel horrible inside like I'm dirty. I don't like going to school because I feel like the teachers look at me funny,and I'm scared they will find out and I don't want to hurt anyone or get my Dad in trouble.
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Child Abuse Story From Audrey
by Audrey
(Glasgow)
my abuse started when i was 5yrs old by that of my brother and also with my stepfather when i was seven yrs old thus my own mother informed police and socialwork where called in i was removed from the house and taken to a foster family where i thought i was safe. Forget it. I went docile and with drawn from peers who failed such as socialwork who reassigned me back to my mother and the two abusers i went from home to home from one place to another i even got abused by my brother at 9yrs when he was 18yrs old. Try oral sex and i was crying but socialwork sent me home to this i was not believed i cut my wrists at 12yrs old while i was in care. My life got ruined by socialwork who made up there own fiction. As for kids nowadays i hope they get better treated than i ever did. As the abuse never leaves your brain and the torment is still there. You have feelings of guilt hatred and resentment against people in athority who failed to protect you. And you feel betraid by even so called friends and even family who failed by not listening. You feel you want to kill your abusers with sychoctic thoughts that they where dead. I do know this is a game to officials such as socialwork and lawyers doctors police and so ön. These people have done the damage and theres no repair for that damage. so if you read this you will understand what i suffered. Maybe u have went through same issue if so we are the same. Thank you. Audrey.
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Child Abuse Story From Silent Death
by Silent Death (SD)
(Location Undisclosed)
I haven't used that name in forever, but I thought it would be a good heading since I don't want to give out my real name. I have been emotional and sexually abused. It isn't the worst, but I just wish I could tell the whole story to someone. I've been with this amazing guy who I plan on getting married to, so I wanted to confess somehow. I was molested by someone with the initials of MW, a regular nobody that my gay uncle so happen to fall deeply and madly in Love with b/c of his "resemblance" to John Stamos and also with the cowboy moustache. He was disgusting to me. I was 7 yrs old and wearing a barbie girl nightgown. He come in on top of me and took off my panties while I was asleep and rubbed his private area against mine, hard. When I woke up, I realized this, he told me to kiss him. For a long time I thought it was a dream until he tried doing it again. After that I was messed up and committed sexual acts with cousins, but that stopped. I was emotionally abused by my mother. She would come up with these outrageous notions. I wouldn't have such a passionate hatred for her if there wasn't so much she is to blame for. I am seventeen and now in the process of getting my life back. I have cut off all ties with her and as soon as I am eighteen I plan on admitting her and taking custody of my little brother. When I am old enough she will be the mother I want her to be, since I never had one when I needed it. Thank you for reading.
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Child Abuse Story From Max
by Max
(Australia)
Child Abuse & Neglect:
Every day me and my sister get abused by our father sometimes when hes drunk sometimes not im 12 and my sister is 15 dad calls her abysuve names like sh**head cow wh**e b***h and so in he hits us and makes us cry most of the times its very scary to watch someone you live get abused
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Child Abuse Story From Robyn
by Robyn
(Tennessee, USA)
I was about four years old and my two cousins were staying the night at my house... They were about 16 at the time... While my one cousin was playing video games my other cousin told me we were going to play something fun... Being four I thought it would be cool... But he told me to lay by my bed and he pulled my pants down and "ate me out" is what they would call it... I don't remember it much... But he said that it was to be a secret and not tell... Well he did it again later that night while I was sleeping... I remember waking up and asking something like what are you doing... He did it to me a few more times at my aunts(his grandmother) house... I finally told my parents... They tried to take it to court but the lawyer had said that it would have to be taken to another county that wasnt even were it happened... My parents decided that because we live in a small town that it was best to just keep it a secret so no one judged me because I had been through alot... I don't see him anymore but I do know he got a girl pregnant and has about three kids... Im 17 now and I try to forget but at times it's hard... I don't want people to know cause were I live everyone would turn there backs... None of my friends know...I know my parents picked a decision they thought was right and probably one I would have picked but I wish he would suffer... Most of my family knows what happened... His grandmother (my aunt) chooses to act like everythings alright because her dad and step dad raped her and her sisters as kids... As did her husband to their daughters... I just wanted others to know that if it's happened to them they aren't the only ones and even though it maybe hard at times... Talk about it... And take it day by day
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Child Abuse Story From Jerry
by Kerry
(Texas, USA)
I was raped by my father when I was 4 and watched pornographic movies also. I never told anyone, even after my sister made allegations of abuse. I felt so sick about it later on when I finally realized the enormity of his crimes. Even so, I don't hate him but I do feel somewhat sorry for him. He's completely alone and has a severe depression problem. I am 40 now and this is the first time I have ever put it down in 'writing.' I never acted like I believed my sister but secretly I was in turmoil. My sister's life was never the same and she has gone downhill precipitously recently. Mine has also. I can't seem to make lasting relationships and tend to alienate anyone that is close to me. I drove my wife of 14 years to divorce me and even my daughter has turned against me and has become a very dishonest and promiscuous 17 year old. My life is in shambles and the only two people I ever truly loved and cared about pretend that I've never existed.
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Child Abuse Story From Lauren
by Lauren
(Missouri, USA)
I feel like I was born with a red mark on my forehead screaming "Kick her where it hurts!"
My story begins 22 years ago. I was born into poor conditions, but it was a two parent home. My parents weren't religious when I was born, but by the time I was a toddler had found a grounding in a tight knit church that, for the sake of privacy I won't say the name or denomination, only that it has been speculated to be a cult.
I for one, can vouch for this.
My father worked long hours, sometimes up to 90 hours a week as a maintenance man just to put food on the table and clothes on our backs. My mom stayed at home and did the raising of the children and housework.
We were homeschooled, and told that public schools tarnished our minds, and that the church was the only safe place.
My father had a love-hate relationship with the church, and between working long hours and fighting his own personal demons, thought it only fit to mentally and emotionally terrorize his children.
When I was four my father hit me in the back of the head with his open hand because I left dolls on my bedroom floor. He didn't typically strike me, or my siblings, but he often would tell me I was stupid, lazy, dumb, inconsiderate, fat...The list goes on and on.
He would rant that the government and music were trying to control us and our minds. It was terrifying.
When I was six, I went to a picnic held by the church and a teenage boy was there. He decided to play with me, and ended up taking me into a barn on the property and raped me. He kept telling me I was pretty and that this was a great way to be "friends". He asked me to touch him on his penis and then proceeded to penetrate me.
I was so traumatized and confused I blocked this incident out for years.
It was only fitting that I would later associate this with my father snarling at me one day when I was eleven, telling me I was a "Trick" and a "Tramp". He began calling me names like "Wideload" and "Dummy"...I hit puberty at 7, and had gained weight due to this, by no means was I overweight, but even if I was, what kind of father would do this?
As I got older, my father felt more free to use physical force - he shoved me down a hallway when I was 16 and twisted my arm, shoving me onto a couch when I was 18.
These incidents were few and far between, but the sexual abuse I suffered as a child combined with my father's constant emotional tyranny made me feel insane, unloved, disgusting, worthless.
My father once told me when I was 12 that no man would ever want to marry me.
He told me that I was getting breasts, and that if I kept wearing low cut shirts, men and boys would think I was "cheap", and that they would believe I would be willing to "screw anything". This was when I was older; 13-17.
When I was fourteen, my older sibling attempted suicide. During that time, I was treated really well by both parents, but I both saw and heard screams of frustration, an almost maniacal rage from my mother.
She was better than my father when I was a child, but as I grew to be a teenager, I would say and do things - like question the church's teachings - and would either receive violent outbursts of rage from my mother, or icy silent treatments that lasted for hours or sometimes days.
Because I was homeschooled, and had only members of the congregation as witnesses to anything involving my family, no one noticed the downhill slide I took.
As a child, before the sexual abuse that I believe caused a good deal of the damage, I was spirited, loved laughing and getting hugs. I would talk to anyone, play with anyone.
After that, I became quiet, jumpy, withdrawn, afraid. People noticed, my mother questioned; I always had the feeling though, that no one really wanted to know.
Ignorance is bliss, right? It'll blow over.
My family was and still is extremely private. My father would curl his lip in disgust and tell us that the government and it's child welfare divisions were trying to control American families. We were never to "discuss family problems" with outsiders, and certainly, if it was discovered we mentioned my father's name calling and yelling fits, we would be lectured, manipulated and berated back into submission.
Being sexually abused was horrendous. It is a bad memory that I fight every day. I have been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress due solely to the rape.
Because of the rape combined with the emotional abuse that I lived with on a daily basis, I was also diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder and Social Anxiety Disorder, as well as, more recently, Depression.
I still feel as though I am a walking freakshow. I know this is irrational, but it's hard to get out of the cycle, and forget the name calling, the terror...I just want to heal.
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Child Abuse Story From Pretty Girl
by "Pretty Girl"
(Canada)
I had a great childhood, I have many happy memories, many smiling pictures, the ones I was crying in was stolen away by my father. Get it? it wasn't great, on the outside, it was a facade, but it wasn't that bad, I had sleepovers with friends, birthday parties, horseback riding, but because I was pretty I was battered by strangers, teased at school relentlessly from jealous classmates, battered by jealous parents, battered by jealous relatives both physically and emotionally.
Being young was really hard, I need protection of a guard but my parents pretending not to listen, so I was sexually abused by many guys who could just take me and nothing would happen. It started when I was 11, I even got hit on when I was as young as 8, they were really stupid guys, unrefined, grubby and relentless. As if my life wasn't a living hell already, I could not go to school because I was constantly being threatened. I dropped out and started doing drugs and taken advantage of more. Called the police? I did, they needed to be sued, but my parents weren't around. I was constantly getting kicked out of the house, I lived a long time homeless and I starved at the hands of my parents and society. No one did anything. No one cared.
I tried to sell myself to a pizza driver for a piece of pizza, he took advantage of me and kicked me out without giving me any pizza. I spent a lot of time out in below 0 weather without proper clothing. shelters were not available. I didn't know what to do or how to do it. I really needed my parents but they said they were fed up with me, made it look like it was my fault.
people seemed to think i was 'going somewhere', what a joke, I couldn't get a job until I was 28, no one would hire me and I could do nothing about it because there is no legal protection in the law. Lawyers didn't give a damn, nor did doctors, christians (hippicrites), on lookers laughed at me and enjoyed my demise, they just sat and watched me getting abused and enjoyed it. People often said 'it isn't fair, she gets everything'. This made it fair? Ridiculous!!
I was told it was because of the competition. people can talk a lot, they say it is because of the beauty industry. They are right but they never take any action. I hate them.
I have since then been accused of being lucky working like a slave at minimum wage jobs because that is all I could get. I was never provided with a good education and find it hard now to get it together to function at all.
People all over the world think they would love to be me, see what it has done to my life. Take another look, a good hard look and use your brains.
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Child Abuse Story From Pretty Girl Part 2
by "Pretty Girl"
(Canada)
Many people think it's great being good looking. I needed a guard most of my life, got punched in the face, slapped, raped many times, my family didn't give a damn. I was scapegoated to make people believe it was my fault, I was a delinquent.
I was kicked out of the house all the time, spent much time in the freezing cold, starving. Men took advantage of me since I was a minor, when I got older they couldn't care less.
I starved at my parents' hands, and also at society's. Police, lawyers, children's aid, doctors, christians all hippocrits, none of them cared. I got punched in the nose by a lawyer asking for help, police treated me like crap, no one would hire me anywhere or give me a chance even at a volunteer job; they couldn't stand the sight of me.
This is what everyone wants, I am told, I am told 'I am going places is life' and 'it isn't fair on other people'. I was not given a chance in life, my sister never talks to me, my family doesn't really care. I was told it is because of an industry. I wish people would stop talking.
I was terrorized at school and out in public, people took their frustrations out on me. Older men took advantage of me, they took what they wanted, no one did anything about it. I couldn't defend myself.
I starved because I didn't have any money and no one would hire me. I have long term effects from starving from which I will never recover.
This is what people want, I am accused of feeling good, being extra intelligent; I find it hard to function now, I can't live a normal life.
I find the silver lining in the clouds, I wish other people would.
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Child Abuse Story From Albert F
by Albert F
(Michigan, USA)
ok so i know this isnt very bad but i hate it ok so my stepdad is a crazy drunk but hes 6.8 and he slapped me one time cause me and my mom got a new dog and he said did u move your bike and i said yeah he said no u didnt i said look it and then he said (he was drunk) int not f***in moved and he slapped me and one time i got a criss angel magic kit for christmas and i showed him a trick and said aww u messed it up and then he yelled and i said yeah u did and he slapped me and my mom was there and she told me to say im sorry to him??? WTF and so now hes drinkin outside with his friends and he told me to get off his boat and i said say please (thts the way i am) and he said now and i said im waiting and he said dont make me woop your ass (he wont) and i said u know the word then he just now 5 mins before im typing this he got up and picked me up in the air by my neck and sat me on the ledge and i got off and i started crying cause it hurt it still does i feel like puking im crying while typing this and he has always been a drunk and my mom thinks its ok and it was my fault i hate him soo much and i want him gone oh and i forgot hes a redneck anywho yeah so im to scared to actually tell someone and i barely talk to my mom about my problems so yeah i really need help i want him gone
by albert f
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More From Albert F Part 2
by Albert F
(Michigan, USA)
Dont waste your life being sad, try and make yourself happy:
When i was born everyone loved me i was so speacial but when i started to get older i changed my hair,clothes,and my face most of my family still likes me but not my stepdad and it was hard cause my dad died when i was 9 so i have to deal with a crazy,drunk,redneck,abusive father.i made another story about what he did to me but find tht later but anyway...its really hard to have sadness in your life listening to dark music thts makes you cry because of all the problems you have in your life.(this really helped) one day i was going for a walk and it started getting dark so then i stoped and looked at this bright star and i thought someone out there will love you stop being this way.the things tht i do to stay happy is i watch this video on youtube check it out its called stay happy by dakota wint it helps alot.but more things i do is i ignore it i try to not talk to him and just walk away and say yeah mhmm and stuff like tht. one day at school i made a list that i listed reasons on how i could get him out of my life call the cops and report abuse. i hoped tht helped
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Child Abuse Story From Bobbi Part 1
by Bobbi
(Pennsylvania, USA)
Not quite sure where to start. Prior to reading all these other life stories I felt my issues came from my teenage years, not my younger years... now Im not so sure. My earliest memories are fear. I remember hiding under a table from the "monster" and i remember being really scared and climbing onto the top bunk with one of my brothers to hide under the covers. I am the 9th child of 10. My next memory is of me and my little sister being introduced to our new mommy and daddy. I was 3 she was 2 and they were asking her questions but she was so scared she wouldnt answer, so I did for her. We were placed with a well to do family, who had a 7yr old son with CP. My sister N and I were overwhelmed, and very frightened. Our new mommy didnt like us to talk about our real mom and would scream bad things about my mom which of course i didnt want to hear. She was very cruel. We had Church every Sunday, country club every day in the summer girl scouts and dance class... etc. But I didnt want it. I wanted my mom. I think maybe the stress of a disabled child along with taking in 2 little girls scared of thier own shadow must have had a toll. I was ALWAYs scared, I would sleep on my back cause id be afraid she come in and hit me when id sleep. I hated to ride in the car every monday by myself to go to my girl scouts cause id be yelled @ and threatened. I remeber emptying the dishwasher before school Now, everything we did was controlled we got up when she said we wore what she liad out we brushed our teeth wehn she told us to and ate when she put it in front of us. We had to empty the DW before school when we were done but if we missed the bus...I remember bath time as horrible she would pull our hair to lay us down pull our hair to lift us up broken spoons over my head for my 7th birthday the screaming "YOUR NOT HER MOTHER". I remember breaking the spray nozzle off the spray and wash (not knowing it could go back on) and her making my dad hit us until someone fessed up. I did it. But I never told ecause i was so scared. I remember signing the limit of library books out, again she took us to and from. (I was 8) and a notice came in th mail from the Library that I owed 5cents for an overdue book. I got the notice cause I was the one to get the mail at the end of the driveway everyday. I saw and and my heart stopped, I ripped it uop and threw it in the field across the street. SHE got the next notice. She screamed at me why i didnt tell her the first time and i told her it was cause i was scared of her. She said?"youll; be more scared of me when im done with you and she just started punching me all over I thought I was done but hadnt noticed it was time for my daddy to come home he walked in and stepped in front of me as she was punching me and she started punching him he held her back. IDK what happened but she left for 3 days. Those were the 3 most peaceful days of the enitre 8 years there. My sister and i were fed cr*p literally. She did all of this while my dad was at work. terrorized us, talking about my mom saying we'll be just like her when we grow up.. and other stuff. She beat us made me scrub the HUGE kitchen floor with a toothbrush from 3yrs old on. But everyone always said how lucky we were to be placed with such a great family. I hated being a foster child in a rich neighborhood they didnt know they N and I were on a diet from the age of 6 and 7 and had to count calories and were told we werre going to be fat and got smacked in the stomach walking through the grocery store to suck our stomach in. We werent overweght in any way shape or form. We werent allowed to have seconds for dinner we should be grateful we were eating. I always felt as if I didnt belong there. Always felt i have to be in debt to everyione for taking in these charity cases everyone gave my parents so much praise for being so wonderful. I used to wonder why they didnt see. We got to vist our mom and siblings once a month for an hour Ohh I couldnt wait every month so happy. On my 6th birthday i dont knwo if i was nervous or not but as soon as the social worker walked into classroom to get me (yes embarrassing!) I ran to the sink and threw up all over the sink in the back of the classroom. I begged her not to tell my mom so I could vist my real mom and my brothers it was my brother k's celebration too his bday was 3 days before mine he was a year older. I couldnt go. She told my mom sealed my fate. My real mom sent me a baby alive doll home I was SO happy. My mom said i couldnt have it casue it would make a mess and she threw her away. I was able to eat the chocolate milk my real mom sent and cake. Well my parents tried to adopt us when i was 11 and N was 10. My real mom decided no she wanted us back. So the state said they werent going to pay for us anymore so we had to go back NOW.I was elated didnt care at all. I remember that day. My mom said we couldnt take any of our clothes or toys that my real mom would have to get us stuff. I didnt care. My mom shed a tear when she dropped us off on the east side for good and i remember thinking"wow she does care about us".
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Child Abuse Story from Bobbi Part 2
by Bobbi
(Pennsylvania, USA)
Well we were thrown in a house with 4 brothers who didnt really know us and each had thier own stories from foster homes, orphanges, and boys homes. Which is why i think what happened to us afterwards happend. I forgot to mention from the time i was was 3 my fostergrandfather would put his tongue in our mouth every time he would give us a kiss. We thought it was gross but didnt know what it was till we were a little older. and my foster brother S made n smoke cigs from 7 on and would "spank" her bare butt (like mom did) so he wouldnt have to "tell" on her for smokng! I caught him smoking a joint w her in wildwood on vacation ihe laundry rm. she was 7. He made her do other stuff to him cause if she told, my parents wouldnt believe her she was the" bad" one. I would get called out of my classroom to get her off the teachers leg (her teeth would be attached)and many other incidents. EVERYONE knew we were foster kids so you would think they might wonder why we would BEG them not to call home but noone ever did. So we were taken from country club and going to bed at 8 to a whole house full of kids and my real mom not knowing if we were even home or not. My sister was raped that first year by 3 boys from around the block my brother found her underwear thought one of us got our period and started waving them around laughing. She took off I chased her and found out what happened. After that she was open game. My brother would go after her all the time. He was the first boy who "kissed" me. He would babysit us and do whatever he wanted. he didnt mess with me too much cause i was the princess for my real mom. My sister was not she was thorn instead of rosebud. I remember the first time he messed with me I got such a sore throat and laid on the living room floor thinking that god was punishing me and thats why my throat hurt. I was so scared i thought I was going to die. So my mom went out all the time our brothers beat the heck out of us usually they would beat n and i would jump on them and fight for her always messed with her always. we would be told to wear long sleeves to cover the bruises or the caseworkers would see and put us back in a home we didnt want to go back. i was 11 in the counslors office in school twice a week to lay on the floor and listen to stress tapes. I never told the counslor what was going on but I think she knew. One day my brother went too far and n ran away. She only ran to my friends house down the street. The freinds mom called me to tell me she was there and i thanked her and went to see her later. my brother b and my brother s really went too far and scared her. she thought they were really going to hurt her. She tried to come home the next day but they were playing frisbee in the parking lot next to the house and saw her. they chased her again so she went bcak to my friends house. My mom made said she ran away and sent her to live w my oldest sister and her husband and my niece. She would call me crying everyday I would tell her when im 18 she could live w me and i would take care of her forever. my mom prior to her wheelchair was ut all the time and we had a live in babysitter l and her bf N I was sleeping on my bed and i thought the cat was crwling on me let fo the cat and felt an afro. it was N! he was feeling all over me i pretended to be asleep i was so scared. I waited up til my mom came home and ran downstirs tell her. the next day his gf L was laughing at me and my mom tolf my bother B to put a piece of wood in front of the door (you had to walk through our room to get to his room)every night before he went to bed. well N didnt bther me anymore but now it was open season for B to do what he wanted. My mom told us we were moving to NC. we had a grandfather who she apparently recently started speaking to again and he wanted to move to NC to be with his son, an uncle i never knew about, before he died. So we did. My sister came later but not with us. My mom said she couldnt handle her and sent her to live w this uncle we never met. he married his foster child, and had two kids with her. 2 and 4, and now my sis who was 12 at the time. She was his slave. he fed her drugs, and did what he wanted to her. i didnt know htis at the time. We lived45 minutes away and i was so happy to go see her. i got there and her and i went for a walk to smoke a cig, i was 13, and she told me she wasnt allowed to visit me cause I was a bad influenceWHAT?? I went back to the house. i was an angry child my mom was handicapped from my real dad and in a wheelchair, and i hated the world. I had an attitude. I was smacking my gum and he came to me and started tickling me but I didnt laugh. he wante dto know why. So i told him i didnt think it was right that my own sister cant come see me. he told me to get that look off my face and i asked what look and he smacked me twice in the face he broke my nose blackend my eyes and busted my lips with those two smacks. My mom sat in a chair across th room and didnt say anything as blood was everywhere. My aunt took me in the bathroom and said thats what you get for acting like an a$$ho%$. I went to school and my 7th grade teacher asked me what happened in front of the whole class and i told him after that the school left me alone. No more suspensions or detentions they just left me alone. my sister came one time w my uncle to see us and i begged him to let her saty over and he said yes. She had a freezer bag of pot and a rx bottle of speed my uncle had given her. We ran away that night and were hiding at th palyground. my mom had my friends push her in her wheelchair to the police station me and n saw them and was hding. we ended up going back cause i didnt want my mom to be worried. My grandfather died so we moved back to pa. but my sister didnt come right way. she didnt come until my aunt caught my uncle with her and left him and shipped her back to my mom.
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 Bobbi Part 3
by Bobbi
(Pennsylvania, USA)
my mom didnt want to take her back so she put her in a home. she eventually ran out of places to put her cause n was something to be reckoned with by now. I used to cry myself to sleep at night everynight for my sister. I found out all he did to her, sodomy rape and any other horror you could think of. She was also a built in babysitter for my cousins. I was mean to them and had guilt for a long time still do I scared them by pretending the stove was on and that i was going to burn them, and just mean. I was mean twice. I didnt know why, but I am understanding a little bit more after reading all these other stories. I also remeber putting my four yr old neice on my shoulders naked and thought about stuff but got scared and didnt really act on it. I didnt even know what this stuff was. we didnt even hear a curse word prior to moving back with my real mom. so we move back with my oldest sister then mom bought a house and it was only me her and my brother k. my other brother b found out and moved back too. great. So b really hurt n one day and she had to be put in the hospital. she told the hospital about EVERYTHING uncle brothers everyone. She told them it happened to me too. they sent caseworkers to my house to ask me what happened to me and i was in the lving room and my mom in the dining room and she was screaming from the other room calling me a liar. the caseworker was then going to my nieces to question her and my mom got in the car and raced over there to beg my niece not to say anything. my niece is only a year younger than me. she didnt say anything cause she didnt want trouble. so n went to a foster home and I was wothout her again. They left me there. They charged my brother but my mom wouldnt allow my sis to the house and called her all kinds of names and stuff til she dropped her statement. she was then allowed back. She built a room in my closet for her self and used to sing all the time in my closet in the dark pink flyd comfortably numb. I thought she was losing it. but i loved her so much. I was cutting for about 2 years by now. didnt think much of it wasnt really known as cutting then in the mid 80's. I just knew when i did that i didnt feel any pain anywhere else. She left when she was 15 and went to NY and became a prositute and was hooked on drugs. just another bad thing to chalk up for her another thing my mom could complain about to anyone who would lsten. She called me on thanksgiving which i was so worried she always calls me on my bday always and she didnt october is my bday. So she called me on thnksginving and said her friend was stabbed and they were running from her pimp. I called my foster parents (they did keep in touch)and they drove to NY to pick her up and brought her and the girl back. They took off in the morning. My brother B never left me alone. I used to wake up and he would be laying next to me drunk trying to feel me up. I wiuld lay there and pretent to be sleeping. I used to put the recliner in my room under the doorknob, well he tried to climb through my window! i went down and told my mom" she yelled up the stairs"B go to bed" WHat??? thats it?? he left me note saying I would pay for that and i showed her and she laughed it off. my mom went to the hospital as a result of an injury my mom got from my sis N. they had fought when n came back from NC and n finally had enough and slammed my mom on her back which was already severly damaged from my bio dad. 13 removed discs...etc.. it was always something. so she was in the hospital and my big brother t and his girl came to stay with us to watch us. My mom convinced me she was going to die in this operation and she only had a 30% chance to live. looking back it doesnt make sense but she was my mom and why would she lie to me? I cried for 3 months thinking she was never coming back when she lived I was actually angry. but anyway while she was in the hospital B still hadnt left me alone so i told A my brothers girl. She TOLD my big brother! T hurt my brother B so bad kicked him in the head til the his whole side of his head from ear forward was BLACk from the bruising. he never touched me again. I was late going to school that day and they asked me why in the classroom again. they kept questioning me in front of the class. man they dont know how horrible and dfifferent you alreadt feel but to humiliate you nfront of eveyone is horrible. My sis is living w me now 4 kids later none of which she has. I feel bad for her but now she is like a 9 yr old. She never matured since moving back from our foster hme. My foster mom got help after we left and has since apologized for the things she has done we actually have a good relationship. her son died last year and she wantes to adopt mne now at 41.. who does that? but whatever. I have 3 wonderful kids 20,16, and 6 have been in some abusive relationships and always was smart enough not to expose my kids to anything and try to give them a normal childhood. My parents have helped and my daughter has dance class and my little one is in many activiutes. My mother is medicated and has shrared that her mothwer was the same way to her whch is where she got it from. My real mother died a few years back and we dont talk to some of my brothers but do still talk to the good ones. Noone really likes N still and thinks of her as needy and craving attention but I mean cmon what shoudl be expected at this point. She was called the bad one and i was the good one. I was stronger cause i didnt let our life affect me. I dont believe that I believe she was the strong one and spoke out about everything that happened to herI was the weak one always trying to keep peace. I am married have serious issues with him as he was severly abused and is a very angry person. I was in counsling for a year and half and found out why i tolerate the things i do but that doesnt help. Sometuimes I would rather be hit than to hear th constant stuff i hear every every day. My job ends today after 6 yrs. I feel as im suffocating this is my outlet work is where my friends call me and write me. I hope that Ill be strong enough. I called an abuse center to go to counsling and the lady called me the day of the appt. and cancelled. She set up a phone interview and never called me back. that was last week. now ill be home every day. Bbut thats another story... I hope I didnt write too much but some these things ive never told anyone I was thiinking of writing it down and burning the paper, hoping that would make me healthy. I have my daughter in counsling and my oldest is just waiting for the opp to jump on my husband. IDk I dont know why I feel so bad for him!! Have a great day love and light to all. Please girls boys PLEASE tell someone Everything you have too. Make them listen and dont worry about consequences give it to god. if you are an angry child, hurt and abused, if not helped you will be a hurt and abused adult.
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 Name Undisclosed127
by Nobody at all
(Colorado, USA)
my mother was loving and kind to me some of the time, but would allow other adults to talk her into being a lot less nice, acting as though the nice treatment had been a form of me taking advantage of her somehow, and now she was kind of "wising up" and treating me lousy emotionally, which was what i really deserved. the nice treatment had been her being weak and "too nice". i am almost 58 now, female. i didn't go to either parent's funeral. i was brought up overly strictly in general and my mother was a rage-a-holic who would get so "nerved up" by us kids that she would slap us both all the time, on the face, arms, anywhere she could reach in her rage. my older brother doesn't remember any of this and is the coldest, most cerebral person i've ever met. my father hit us too, whenever we "aggravated" him. children had no rights in the world i grew up in and i was laughed at derisively all the time by my mother who was constantly arguing with my father which also got her "nerved up" so she would slap the hell out of us because of that too. my father was an abusive jerk who loved to bait and torment my mother emotionally, then would hit us kids for not treating her with respect! their constant fighting, and my mother's rages when he left for work every morning, from as early as i can remember, kept me in a constant state of fear. adults and other kids would make fun of me for being so "nervous" - a child was supposed to be happy and carefree all the time. mom would throw around pots and pans very violently most mornings, not at me as best i remember, but it still terrified me, which she would laugh scornfully at. she would throw things and scream so hard that she would lose her voice some days. as a tiny toddler i was supposed to not have any reaction to this. sometimes she would lock me out so she could rage in peace, if that makes any sense. she would continue raging till she was exhausted, then take a nap and act like nothing had happened. i rememer walking up and down the street while being terrified that i was locked out and that she was out of her mind back at home. i felt utterly alone. finally one day when i was 13 i just walked out and went to a friend's house, which my mother laughed at scornfully. my friend, who had witnessed my mother's rage when she came over sometimes, immediately knew why i had shown up at her door, and i was terribly embarrassed by her pity. once when i was 13 my father suddenly reached out and grabbed my breast. i ran and told my mother and she read him the riot act. i remember explicitly him apologizing to me, at her insistence, since he thought it beneath him as a male to ever say the words "i'm sorry" under ordinary circumstances. i tend to go off on tangents so i will now skip to the present for a moment. i am very grateful for this website, and it has helped me to realize certain things that i had dismissed as "not that bad" previously. i suffer from depression and anxiety and am on all the medication they'll give me. i've been in therapy but there's something about the rigid mindset i was raised in that keeps making me think i have no right to "complain" about anything that happened to me because other kids in the neighborhood had it so much worse, which is true, but i'm suffering so much, and have all my life, that my abuse has been plenty bad enough to bring me to the brink of suicide where i just about am these days. i think i'll have to post multiple times to get everything out. i appreciate everyone who takes the time to read my long list of crap. when i was maybe 4 years old i had a medical condition for which my parents gave me horrible, excruciating, disgusting, horribly humiliating enemas which left lasting emotional scars. i truly believe my father (it took both of them to hold me down) got turned on by administering them to me. i looked up the medical condition i had online recently, and there is no mention of enemas being the correct treatment for them, then or nowadays. in fact, enemas are considered to cause further harm for this condition, which sure felt like what they did to me. online it says that this condition causes extremely excruciating pain if anything is inserted into the rectum, even a doctor's finger during examination, and so it is treated by surgery if certain other, non-intrusive measures don't help after just a few weeks. i got the enemas for a long time, every night. i would scream my head off, but since our family doctor told them to give me the enemas, his word was like that of God to my parents, so they ignored my screams of agony and kept giving me this treatment which i don't think ever helped. i consider this now to have been sexually abusive, partly cause of my father's enjoyment of it and also because of the part of my body that was involved. i was just a tiny child with no rights about what was done to me. i started developing physically way too young and would get leers from the men of my neighborhood as my 7 or 8 year-old self would walk down the street. if you asked my parents, they would say i had a very wholesome upbringing with wholesome people around. anyone who was jewish like us was to be trusted implicitly, like the family doctor, and the men who molested me which i'll get to. in actuality, we were so poor (i wasn't allowed to refer to us as poor) that our neighborhood was very borderline as far as being safe. i would walk to school a long way, sometimes i don't think it was light out yet, wearing a thin little skirt, inadequate coat, and cheap knee socks that would fall down to my ankles after the first washing. i could have been grabbed or murdered a hundred times over on my way to school but my parents, particularly my mother, had this huge denial system going on. they had to believe i was safe in the environment they could afford to live in, they had to believe i wasn't affected by their bitter, ceaseless arguing, they had to believe the doctor was always right about everything. they also must have believed that my friend's father was just fine because he was jewish, since one summer they insisted i go over there every evening after supper and "help" him with his daughter who was my age but still had the body of a child. he would stick his fingers up me and molest me night after night with my friend right there. she knew what was going on but both of us were just so embarrassed. i would go over every evening and not "remember" that he had molested me all the previous evenings. i don't think most adults have ANY IDEA how embarrassed a little girl (i was maybe 8-10 years old) is by something like this, and that the way a child's mind works, they are just in denial about it even when it's happening. i knew my parents would have blamed ME if i had told them - i was supposed to be a little adult at this age, not embarrassed by bullying schoolmates, fingers up my vagina, anything. i was supposed to have not let the man do it, i guess. after the first time it was my fault, to their way of thinking. i could tell by the nasty, knowing look in this molester's eyes that he knew just how embarrassed i was, that i would never tell because of the humiliation, that my parents weren't the kind of parents i could tell things like this to. even at such a young age, i knew they would blame me, and also that they would question me about every little detail, not caring that this would traumatize me further, and i knew that my father would get aroused hearing about all the details. there's much much more but i will submit this for now before i run out of space.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part 2
by Nobody at all
(Colorado, USA)
i want to continue with my story. as a child, complaining was pretty much taboo. i would always be told how bad other kids had it, way worse than me, to shut me up. i was indulged by my mother somewhat, but always knowing she might start slapping the heck out of me anytime, or otherwise have her patience with my problems cut off because she was being too nice. my father would encourage her to not be as nice to me as she sometimes wanted to be, since after being nice for awhile she would get more and more stressed out by my neediness and then be snappy with HIM. i once screwed up all my courage and told my parents i didn't want to go to the molester's house that night. instead of saying ok, they stopped their bitter, continuous arguing long enough for my mother to ask me why not? in an irritated, dismissive tone of voice. i said "he touches me" and that just sent her off. i could tell she couldn't handle any more problems in her life, so i "took it back" and said i hadn't meant it. she hurried me over to his house and never asked me later what i had meant about him touching me, and insisted every evening that i go over there. i don't know why he needed my "help" to take care of his daughter who was my age, and get her ready for bed every evening. i can't help wondering if he was paying them for my "help". they generally weren't as insistent as this that i do things i didn't want to do that weren't really necessary. if they WERE getting paid, i never saw a penny of it. this went on for at least one whole summer, possibly more than one. meanwhile, when my (non-jewish) male schoolteacher at the time took me into a small closet-type room at school to intelligence-test me, never doing anything wrong, they were all suspicious that he might be molesting me! my mother just had to be able to "relax" and feel comfortable that anyone jewish i was with was ok, that i wasn't affected by the constant strife in my home, etc. everything had to be neatly sewn up in her mind as being under control and just fine. if they could afford to buy me something, then it was true that i "needed" it - if not, then i would be badgered with all the reasons i didn't need it, including a pet, which i begged and begged for all thru my childhood (not "needed" - whaddaya need THAT for was my mother's answer to most everything i asked for), having my hair long - it made her feel "hot" in the summer for my hair to be long - any kind of mess or "excess" of anything, such as hair shorter than a "bull dyke's" (sorry, i mean no harm to lesbians), owning a whole pack of different-color pens, more than one or two of most anything, she just couldn't stand it. she was a neurotic neat freak with ocd, which she admitted to later when i was an adult. i also wasn't allowed to have real relationships or attachments to anyone besides our immediate family. i had one sibling, an older brother, who hated me from the moment i was born and would torment me and even try to get me hit by a car when he was supposed to be babysitting me. he would run out into traffic and then ridicule me if i didn't follow. i would usually run out behind him, afraid he would run off ahead and leave me not knowing how to find him. but one time he got me to run out when it was so dangerous that several cars had to slam on their brakes, and someone told my parents, and my mother didn't leave me in his care much after that. i mean, she would do what she could to protect me from him and my father, but stopped short of really believing they were real threats to my safety. when i was 13 i wanted a boyfriend desperately. i was told by my mother that i "ran after anything in pants" because of this. there was a non-jewish boy who was really cute and just smitten with me but no way could i date him because of his religion. he actually dressed up in a suit and tie and had me take him home to meet my mother to convince her that he was a good guy and i should be allowed to date him. i told him over and over that i couldn't date anybody non-jewish. (you might guess by now that i hated being jewish - i was later to be sexually abused by 2 more jewish authority figures. all being jewish meant was that females were inferior, no xmas presents, no pretty xmas tree, no glimmer of hope in Jesus who would come to me later in life to offer unconditional love, something my parents didn't believe in.) my mother was made "nauseous" by anything about extreme love, kindness, etc, anyway, this boy came to my home, my mother heard him out but never allowed me to date him, as i knew would happen. to her credit (just when i felt i had a legitimate child-abuse grievance about anything, she would "prove" that i had nothing to be resentful about), she was polite and friendly toward him, but actually told him that whether he knew it or not, i could end up pregnant by him and then i would have to marry a non-jew, a huge taboo of course in my family. she had started in about "you better never come home pregnant or you'll be out the door" years earlier, when i had no idea how you even got pregnant. she liked to tell her bridge club when they were over that "this one here, if she ever gets pregnant, she's OUT THE DOOR" starting when i was really young and could just stand there in extreme embarrassment, understanding only that i was being humiliated in front of her friends so that she could somehow feel "powerful" and "strong". as i mentioned in my previous post, she would change sometimes when there were other adults around, kind of "showing off" about how tough she was on me, to my humiliation and dread that she'd stop being nice for awhile after an episode like this, which she sometimes would. i was half-starved all thru childhood, also - i happened to not like the few foods they could afford for breakfast and lunch, and still happen to hate these few things to this day. it was just a very unlucky coincidence, but i just gagged at most of the foods i was offered, and of course she'd be "goddamned" if she was gonna make me anything "special". so i'd starve all day until suppertime, when there was something i liked. the doctor would tell her i was underweight and to give me anything i wanted to eat, as i got colds and flu so often that i was absent from school way more than any kid should be, but she would tell him angrily that i "wouldn't eat" or that the foods i liked were too expensive. i would beg all day long for something to eat that i COULD eat, with her getting progressively more hysterical that i just wouldn't eat, and me so hungry that i would forget how mad she'd get if i kept asking for food. btw, she would tell me she was "the best mother in the world" often. i remember when she would have me sit on the toilet as a small child and soap up my crotch, i guess this was part of normal care of my hygeine, then when she brought the washcloth back to rinse me, at least one time i remember it being burning hot and me not knowing that this was something i should tell her. as long as pain wasn't absolutely excruciating, i had learned by then not only not to complain, but also that if she had made the washcloth that temperature, then it must be ok, because she knew what was bad or painful and what wasn't. i was constantly told that i shouldn't feel anything unpleasant that i felt, but should feel some other way about a situation, some way that she'd describe to me as how i "should" feel about a particular incident. if i was mercilessly bullied, teased, and rejected at school, the other kids were "just jealous" and i should "rise above it" - even at a very young age. i was supposed to "just tell myself" this or that phrase, instead of what i really felt. she wlouldn't let up till i agreed with her new version of how i felt - then she could relax, consider my whole horrible school experiences or life in general all neatly under control, proving she was the best mother in the world and that my life was just fine. she just didn't want the messiness and bother of real life. not if it got her "nervous for the whole day" as i would also hear sometimes. this would be really scary. when she announced she was nervous for the whole day, it was true. so even if it was first thing in the morning, then i knew it wouldn't be till the next day that she'd be at all normal or approachable. everything was very conservative in my upbringing - no excess of anything (except of course of sexual feelings of my father toward me, which were so far out of my mother's sphere of comfort or willingness to believe that they didn't exist for her; or any other "elephants in the living room"), xmas was seen as "gaudy", cuddling and hugging were "nauseating" (my mother "didn't like to be touched"), etc. i will end my 2nd post here - thanks for listening.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part 3
by Nobody at all
(Colorado, USA)
my older brother was just horrible to me from as early on as i can remember. my parents sometimes allowed or encouraged this. they, along with my brother, would form a circle around me when i was crying and make fun of me in a singsong voice. my mother would say things like "c'mon, can't you do any better than that" (sarcastically referring to how hard and earnestly i was crying), or say what a good little actress i was. my brother absolutely loved to see me humiliated, crying, hurt in any way. when i was maybe 7, he convinced my parents to make me go to bed an hour earlier than the 3 of them, making sure i could hear them all laughing and enjoying tv companionably and making fun of my desperate, miserable, rejected crying in my bed. my mother was torn between going to me and comforting me and letting me get up, with my brother, and to a lesser degree my father, trying to sadistically convince her to ignore me, enjoying my abject misery. mom relented after a couple of nights, but it seems wrong to me that she allowed them to sway her against me like that at all. she tended to do this a lot - being good to me but allowing others to persuade her to be mean. she was a rage-a-holic and, once persuaded by outside forces like this, would enjoy changing into what she perceived as a "tougher" version of herself who wasn't gonna stand for any of my neediness any more. she would seem very self-satisfied at her newfound "strength" at these times. i just couldn't stand most of the foods we could afford. (i did eat things like chicken necks, chicken feet, and cow tongue lunchmeat, so i guess i wasn't THAT picky.) this was an ongoing, horrible struggle between us all through my childhood. i've said in an earlier post that this happened with breakfast and lunch, but dinner was ok and i could fill up then. but weekends were bad at dinner, too, with things like tasteless vegetarian canned spaghetti offered which i would eat as much as i could tolerate of, staying hungry most of the weekend often. anyway, sometimes she would be in an ok mood, but then we'd go out together to the store or something, and on the way she'd get into conversations with other mothers, or kids by themselves, which she'd quickly turn into probes about whether the children ate x, y, and z that i couldn't stand. they all seemed to be wonderful eaters, and by the time we got home she would turn on me angrily for not eating what other kids ate. she would allow other people to interrupt her nice moods or good treatment of me all the time. i knew that by the next mealtime, she'd be extra-ready to do battle with me and pretty much starve me. i want to say that most everything she wanted me to eat was very inexpensive and also is stuff that is never on restaurant menus, due i think to its lack of popularity among most people. for instance, she tried to make my lunch be an egg, please don't think i mean a delicious bacon-and-egg breakfast, i mean one egg with the yolk hard-cooked which to this day i just don't like. so my lunch was supposed to cost about 5 cents or else i was a picky eater. they would immediately repair the slightest scratch on our car or worn spot on furniture, but couldn't afford a little extra money for a rubbery, twice-reheated piece of chicken or the like, that i would have loved. mom insisted it was because my dad was such a cheapskate, which he was about me. when she bought me school or other clothes, she would even lie to him about the prices. an extra dollar over whatever budget there was for me would have caused a huge huge fight between them. whenever she wanted to buy anything for me, and we're talking about the lowest-quality clothes, or small amounts of the foods i could stand, he'd ask "what does she need THAT for?" like i should just subsist on almost nothing. my father was a real male chauvinist. my brother would get taken out for treats, getting more pleasure out of my being left out than out of the treat itself, with me being told that whatever they were doing wasn't for girls and telling me condescendingly that i should stop crying and just do something at home with my mother, whom they were both contemptuous of for being female. we would all go together to the hobby shop, with my father buying cool model planes over and over to assemble with my brother, deliberately making me feel excluded. he didn't do anything comparable with me, not that i wanted to do anything with him anyway, since he seemed to direct sexual lecherousness toward me even as a little girl. other treats for my brother included going to see scary movies with dad, lime rickeys which they would describe in detail when they got home as being incredibly delicious while i couldn't even have a decent bite to eat 16 out of 21 meals a week, a visit to the fire station to slide down the pole which i remember being horribly jealous of, deli meals while i was half-starving at home with my mother terrorizing me in horrible indignant rage because i "wouldn't eat". i'll end this post here but will be back.
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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed127 Part 4
by Nobody at all
(Colorado, USA)
as i've said in earlier posts, my mother was a rage-a-holic. it's only recently, from reading articles online, that i've learned that rage-a-holics tell what are called "hero stories", which are when they tell someone about one of their rage episodes and feel all the anger of the episode itself while doing so, triggering off an adrenaline flood to their brains, feeding themselves with their drug of choice, adrenaline, all over again while retelling their story. this is EXACTLY how my mother was. even when i was in my 40s or older, she'd ask me if i remembered some incident or other of when i got her "so goddamn mad" as a small child, sounding like she was reliving the power she felt while raging at me, all over again. one therapist i told this to said my mom was trying in some kind of indirect way to apologize for having raged at me all those years ago, but i know that wasn't it - she seemed to feel compelled to relive the incidents by talking about them. one incident she reminded me of was the time she was on the phone when i was 3 years old, and i kept talking when she had told me to be quiet. (immediate obedience was expected in our household, from the earliest age. she would act like she just couldn't comprehend that i didn't just immediately do whatever she ordered me to do, small or big, every time.) so when i wouldn't be quiet, she picked me up and threw me across the room, and my head hit the stove hard. when she re-told this story, she said with satisfaction how terrified i had been, so much so that i was mute from the shock of it, sounding so self-satisfied that she had finally succeeded in "shutting me up". she wasn't ashamed of abusing me like this, not even after having watched talk shows etc. in the intervening decades about all kinds of social and psychological issues, including, i'm sure, child abuse! i know she, as well as my father, threw me around like this whenever they felt like it. although i don't think there was a lot of me hitting my head, if i did happen to, that was all the better to them towards me "learning my lesson", which was usually about something innocent like not talking or complaining or begging for food or a pet or for them to see how miserable i was in general. my mother also told me, when i was well into adulthood, in a disgusted voice, that i would get sick every school vacation. i did get sick all the time, probably because my resistance was low due to all the stress i was under, from all the horrible stress in the family, the lack of food, being cold most of the time, etc. We were so poor that i would get the hell slapped out of me for things like taking an inch too long piece of scotch tape off the roll, or drawing with a pen rather than a pencil, a cheap ballpoint pen being "more expensive" than a pencil.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part 5
by Nobody at all
(Colorado, USA)
this is my 5th post to this site. i appreciate having a place to vent like this. i suffer from a lousy depression and expressing myself seems to help somewhat. all my life i've had an absolutely desperate need to be listened to. also terrible, all-consuming fear of being alone in the world. i'm fine spending lots of time alone but at times in adulthood when i've had no significant other i just can't stand it. i've never known anyone else who suffered like i have from not having a boyfriend. this has been the bane of my adult existence pretty much. while i don't feel connected to the knowledge of whether this stems from child abuse or not, i tend to think it does, so i'm including it here, which i hope is ok. it seems to me that as a child my mother had me convinced i couldn't do anything on my own and kept me very dependent on her, being overly protective and babying me, ALTERNATING with being abusive, which to this day makes my trains of thought keep going off on tangents and also makes me absolutely terrified of being "alone in the world" without a man. i've never had a moment of normal mental health, of just feeling relaxed and ok moment to moment. i bet it would feel like a whole different world to me, what most people take for granted.
i told in an earlier post about my not being allowed at 13 to be with a non-jewish boyfriend. i don't remember if i finished that story. when my father got home and my mother told him i'd been seeing this non-allowed boyfriend, he started slapping me in the living room, where she had told him, and continued into my bedroom - it went on for at least an hour, maybe 2. he had taken off his belt but i don't think he hit me with it, then or all the other times it was threatened. actually he might have, lightly, this time, but most times he would whoosh it down next to my ear onto the floor to terrorize me with the threat of "getting a beatin'", over tiny infractions as well as big taboos like seeing this boy. i remember my ears ringing from all the hard slapping. i was told i should be ashamed of myself, as though i was the nastiest sl*t, for innocently hugging and holding hands with this boy. any touching between me and a boy, even handholding when i was 17 or 18, was absolutely forbidden. i later saw pictures in my yearbook from the prom i didn't attend, with my classmates with their dates' arms around their shoulders, and wondered what my parents would have said if i had been the one photographed touching a boy. by the time my father was done slapping the hell out of me for such a long time, with me crying hysterically the whole time, with my mother present to make sure he didn't go too far and "really hurt me", i remember being so exhausted i couldn't stay awake. i had been begging before then for him to stop because i was so tired but he didn't stop till he had vented his rage as much as he wanted to. a few years later one of my female cousins married a non-jewish boy - her parents were stricter than mine and had to go to counseling over it because she was over 18 so they couldn't stop her - and, lo and behold, i was suddenly allowed to date gentile boys! my extended family, more specifically my father's side, along with my parents, had very rigid rules about everything to do with every family member's behavior, reinforcing each other so much that there was just no getting even a little wiggle room for much of anything. to give credit where it's due, i think that this strict code of ethics kept my father from sexually abusing me any more than he did. still it's disgusting to have a father who has to be constantly monitored or he'll be putting his hands all over you, starting as early as i can remember. i hate shows about close families because my aunts and uncles simply reinforced my parents' ridiculously strict childrearing principles. i feel no sense of family and find that kind of thing boring and it seems like it's all made up, that nobody really feels actual familial love. one time when i was maybe 19 my father spit right in my face, it got on my face and eyeglasses, because he had heard i had been sexual with a boy. meanwhile HE would do as much sexually toward me as he knew he could get away with. when i got my own place when i was older, he came to visit - i know this story isn't as bad as most of the ones on this site, but still - he came over, then zeroed in on a small bookcase in my living room, quickly finding something which he hoped might have some sexual content - he was starving for porn but it wasn't acceptable in my family so he'd take anything he could get, and his lecherous attitude toward me and other young attractive women just sailed right over my mother's deeply-in-denial-about-anything-she-didn't-want-to-deal-with head - anyway he found a steamy passage and i could see from across the room that he was turned on, "adjusting himself" in his pants, doing this deliberately to get turned on while alone with me. he knew that outright grabbing me would never fly so he would get inventive and do slimy icky stuff like this, kind of indirect sexual abuse, although there was at least one time it was overt, in another of my posts, ever since i can remember. but by this time i KNEW that he was deliberately getting himself aroused in my presence, and remembered earlier times that he would be turned on while close to me, but i had been too young and innocent, even up to age 16, to realize what he was doing. i could tell this time, in my apartment, that he thought i didn't know what he was doing, but this time i did. also, ever since i developed breasts at around age 8, he would put his arm around me when we were walking together and, staying just under the radar, feel the side of my breast the whole time. my mother was just so unwilling to entertain a concept that she didn't like, to allow in anything that would take her energy and cause her stress, that his whole lewd persona just seemed to go right over her head.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part 6
by Nobody at all
(Colorado, USA)
ok this is my 6th post so far. i tend to go off on tangents so some of the posts touch on issues that i've already gone into depth on in earlier posts. i want to say that, after many long attempts at therapy over decades, reading people's abuse stories on this wonderful site has helped me more in some ways than therapy. it has helped me remember things, slowly, and also my own posting helps me clarify what i do remember. ok so this time i'll start by saying that as a small child i loved animals, was very empathetic about people who were suffering, generally had, as i guess all young kids do, an open, loving, soft, tender heart. my mother made a mission of stomping all of this out of me from as far back as i can remember, which is maybe 3 years old. she seemed to find it terribly threatening that i felt overwhelming love for unfortunate people and for animals. if i wanted to pet a cat i was told to get away from it, because of germs. if i saw a story on tv about a dying child and was overwhelmed with sorrow she would just seize hold of my heart and soul, verbally, and brainwash me that i should turn off these kinds of feelings. this has resulted, no surprise, in my being a cold, cerebral type of person. her reasoning seemed to be that tender-heartedness was weakness and would cause people to con me or whatever. she was quite a cynic and a bitter person. if i wanted to give a beggar a dime she would just freak out that we couldn't afford to give anybody anything. then later on as i grew up she was very disappointed that i didn't treat her with the love she needed, after eradicating it all from my heart early on.
i just remembered today that my father would also kick me besides hitting me. not real hard that i remember, but he'd have such a look of aloof, unfeeling disgust on his face when the sole of his shoe would come at my sides.
partly i'm posting so much because many of the things my parents did were kind of subtle and i both want validation that they were abusive nonetheless, and also i want people who read this to realize how some abuse can be more on the subtle side, which can make it that much harder to recognize for what it is, and thus leave the survivor unsure as to whether their pain down the road is from their childhood or they just have it at random somehow. i was very much mind-f#@**ed, please excuse my language but this term just hits the nail right on the head for me. my mother just felt she HAD to take whatever i was feeling at each moment, hear all about it, then tell me what i SHOULD feel, which were HER beliefs that she'd spent a lifetime building up as a defense against being a feeling person. she would never let up until i finally was worn down mentally and agreed with her. she seemed to see me (i'm female) as a mini-me - she liked vanilla over chocolate, so i "did", too. she found sex disgusting so i had no sexual desires (when i was older). on and on and on like that. she would even begin sentences with "I", then catch herself and change it to "you", such as "I - (oops) you - don't like bald men" for instance, when i talked to her about my dating life as an older adult. she would be loving after she had my mind under control. she had to have everything under control at all times, from a thread on the carpet to denying that my father was an abusive sadist. i'm full of rage all the time, and hyper-sensitive to anyone trying to control me. something about the way she set up this mental abuse caused me to have a really hard time letting go enough to have therapy do any good. it's like she had to own my soul. i had to tell her what i was thinking all the time. she was also very resistant to learning anything new, even things like not seeming to understand if i called a pail a "bucket", like that wasn't the word she was expecting, so her whole system of thought had to either be rearranged, like reprogramming a computer; or else, more often, she would just refuse to let in the new information. indoor-outdoor carpet was a foreign concept to her until she moved somewhere that had it, then she had to learn what it was as though it was rocket science. and no, she was NOT mentally retarded or anything like that, just hopelessly unwilling to CHANGE. she always lived in rentals and when i owned a home she kept asking how much the rent was. i said it's not rent, it's a mortgage, to which she would angrily shoot back, "how much is your rent?!!!" then i said i don't pay any rent, and she said that's nice, to have your rent be zero. never mind trying to explain that my mortgage, along with HOA fees which she wouldn't attempt to understand, came to x amount per month. and no, she's not from a foreign country. both parents were just unsophisticated to the point of being useless. i was an excellent student but had a couple of times that i didn't know how to do an assignment. i told them and they looked at me vacantly and went back to their endless arguing. i want to say here that when i'd tell people, as an adult, that they had been married 50 or 60 years, people would insist how much they loved each other, which was totally untrue. they were at each others' throats ALL THE TIME, even arguing above the judge's voice at my wedding!
my father was a sadist and she would usually, but not always, keep him at bay; but i remember bringing home a report card in elementary school with one A- on it, and him trying to make me feel bad over it! she tried to intervene as usual, but this time he insisted, saying he "just wanted to have a little fun with me" which was his version of what he was doing when he was being sadistic. so she let him. another time i had a 1st-grade teacher who just had it in for me - other teachers all loved me, i was a very good student and well-behaved. this teacher made me go in the corner every day like clockwork. i had come home in tears one day about it, told my mother, who was on my side and comforted me. but when dad got home and was told about it, he got a strange little sadistic smirk on his face and told me to get in the corner right then as i was trying to get comfort about it. mom tried to stop him but he insisted. he had a lot of "fun" watching my incredulous humiliation at his totally twisted reaction as i got up and went in the corner. at first mom told me not to and scolded him, but he gave her a look that made her give in and she told me do as he had said. this had NOTHING to do with disciplining me - it was totally for his enjoyment - he loved seeing other people humiliated more than anything. by the time i was in my 30s i was incapable of feeling humiliation any more. i could have peed all over myself in front of the President and not been embarrassed. between my father, and later childhood abusers, i think i've used up all the shame i had been born with.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part 7
by Nobody at all
(Colorado, USA)
so at a young age my mother had me mind-controlled to the best of her ability - unfortunately for her and other abusers, i have a strong, tenacious spirit which has never knuckled under completely to all the people who have had power over me, molesters, teachers, bosses, crappy boyfriends, and all the rest. i have a tendency to argue to the bitter end when someone is trying to mind-f#$** me in any way, and get furiously angry when i hear about governments, corporations, religious organizations etc. abusing power, which of course is all around us all the time. my favorite book is 1984 which is about a futuristic totalitarian government that uses brainwashing to control everyone's very soul. but anyway, i was an easy target for abusers from early childhood on, and they could smell this a mile away. (i was told by my parents to do "whatever the teacher says" so that mom could totally be relieved of responsibility for me for 6 hours a day, which i obeyed too well for my own good.) after my main molester at ages at 8-10, told about in detail in another posting, i then met my next one in hebrew school. he was a sick mental case whom all the kids made fun of. he was my hebrew school teacher and also a RABBI and crazy as a loon, probably alzheimer's. he shouldn't have been in a position of any authority over anyone. i excelled at hebrew school and he was crazy about me because of this. he made me PROMISE to become a hebrew teacher when i grew up. he would call me up to the front of the class all the time, go into some sort of a fugue state where he was kind of muttering and chanting and definitely not in his right mind, and, in front of the whole class, which included many boys i went to public school with, would put his hand under my skirt and rub my buttocks for long long minutes. i was frozen in mortification. adults don't understand that a child's psyche is totally different from theirs. an adult would have slapped him.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part 8
by Nobody at all
(Colorado, USA)
i had to quickly submit my last post (part 7) because i almost lost all of it due to my computer being weird. anyway, an adult mind would have known to stop this guy the first time he did anything, walk away, and report him. this is what my parents, especially my mother, would have said i should have done, with no attempt to understand that i wasn't a 40-year-old emotionally, rational and logical, and would have just not even tried to understand how it felt to ME. i wasn't allowed to be a child by them in the first place. as early as they could, they kept trying to get me to ignore my feelings and act like an adult with logic instead of emotions, about everything, because that made life easier and more convenient for them. i don't know why they had kids - they had NO appreciation for what a child is, a sensitive, deeply feeling, pure being sent from the heavens to be treasured. just shut up so i can go back to my meaningless, unfeeling "adult" life of emptiness, and get some rest before my next miserable day. an aside - my mother once told me when i was young that childhood was the happiest time of my life, what was wrong with me that i wasn't happy?? so anyway the rabbi kept this up for as long as he was my teacher, with my public-school friends losing all respect for me after witnessing his abuse. i only went to hebrew school, an expense they could barely afford, because my father somehow liked the idea of me being steeped even deeper in judaism. they couldn't afford to keep me from being hungry but could afford hebrew school to feed his sense of identity with judaism which seemed to give him a little bit of self-worth. i'm sorry but organized religion just drives me crazy - it's just a way for people to feel separate from those of other faiths for the most part, and causes wars and abuse, all in the name of claiming to know the answers to the most fundamental of people's deepest questions and fears: why are we here, what happens after we die, etc. no one really knows any of this for sure, yet whole countries and otherwise rational people allow themselves to be told what the ultimate "Truth" is and go to war and take child brides over it.
my next sexual abuser was at my first real job when i was 16. he would also reach up under my skirt and rub my butt, but this guy would also tell me nasty sexual jokes and stories, watching my eyes carefully to watch my disgust and humiliation. he was a total pig. as before, i just couldn't tell my parents. i was still a virgin and didn't even understand most of what he was talking about, except for the main point, that i was there to be embarrassed and shamed beyond belief.
my parents, especially my father, would tell me i was "too sensitive" all the time. my mother would tell me whatever she had "realized" was "the trouble with me" that day, and why i "would never be happy" as long as i held the "attitudes" i did, or "let things get to me" like i did. little did she know, she was so out of touch with a feeling person's reality, that i was already doing my best to shut down all my emotions because of the harshness of my life. and my parents, and most of the other adults in my life, told me all the time how wonderful they were and what caring parents i had!
my mother was always trying to be overly intimate with me, not sexually that i remember, but emotionally. when she would come for a visit when i was an adult, she wanted to sit in our robes and sip hot chocolate at the breakfast table together, which was repulsive to me. one time when i was in my 40s she came to visit and we both had to go to the bathroom. we were in a little country cafe and the bathroom had 2 toilets but no walls or anything between them. she was ecstatic, like she had been waiting for this moment all her life, to see me naked. i told her to go on in first and then i'd go afterwards, but she was adamant that we go together, and i had to go really bad, so i was forced to give in. when i pulled down my pants her eyes flew to my crotch and stared avidly. she acted like she couldn't imagine why i wouldn't want to be naked with her, and actually seemed hurt about it. i don't know what she wanted - i guess to feel like my body was still "hers" like when i was a baby. she seemed to like me less and less the older i got as a child - she liked babies, who are simple to deal with and whom she could have complete control over.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part 9
by Nobody at all
(Colorado, USA)
thanks everyone who has read my many posts. i have an insatiable need to be listened to, and was abused as a child, which makes me a perfect candidate for this board.
some of what i have to say this time will seem relatively minor, but i feel in my case that my abuse was a manifestation of my family's very rigid belief system, so i've been going into that on this forum somewhat. i'm just trying to understand why i can't seem to get free of the pain i've been in most of my life; i don't even feel sure it's from my childhood. i just can't seem to have much success in therapy. a lot of my abuse was mental. my mother seemed to think i was terribly irresponsible. she wouldn't even allow me to wash the dishes. by the time i was an adult, washing dishes seemed almost glamorous to me, because she truly didn't think i was responsible enough to do it right. this despite the fact that i always got excellent grades in school, went out and found a job the minute i was old enough, etc. Now i see that it was SHE who was scared of responsibility, so much so that i wasn't allowed to have a pet even, in case i got slipshod w/caring for it and then she'd have to do it. she told me more than once that she wished she had never gotten married nor had kids. she considered it a trap in no uncertain terms. she even made me promise, when i was about 5 and she was having one of her hysterical fits, to never get married or have kids. like much of my abuse, this was so mind-bending - she made me promise her this out of concern for me, so that i wouldn't fall into the "trap" she had, but of course at the same time this was an abusive thing to say to me. she would often threaten me with foster homes and how terrible they were, to keep me from expressing any dissatisfaction w/my life. if i was crying hard, she'd say i was crying as though my mother had just died. i wasn't supposed to have any complaints about my lousy life, just to work hard in school in order to escape it in the distant future. as my father's cruel, sadistic nature became more and more obvious, she would communicate all the time, with just a look in her eyes, that i should make damn sure i got a good education so that i wouldn't ever be dependent on a man for survival, as she was. she seemed to be plotting some way to leave my father all thru my childhood, then when i proved to be a good scholar she planned in her own mind to leave him and come live with me once i had completed college and become "rich", which meant beyond the subsistence level we lived at. as with most things, this wasn't something she was going to discuss w/me first - she just assumed that she and i were so close that i'd love to have her come live with me. she had a faraway, childlike quality a lot, as with this imagined future with me. when my husband and i bought a 3-bedroom condo when i was about 38, she immediately started making plans to move into the 3rd bedroom - there was no asking, she just assumed she was going to do this. (i didn't let her.) she was just waiting all her married life for someone to rescue her from her abusive marriage.
from ages 24-31, i had a serious boyfriend whom i didn't want to marry. one day he dumped me to pursue his ridiculous fantasies (no, not marriage). i was devastated and called my mother for comfort. as usual with any problem i brought her all my life, she asked a few questions, then determined that it was my fault he had left me, because if u don't get married and have children (she had apparently taken back her advice that i never do this!), then a relationship invariably breaks up because "there's nothing to look forward to, like watching the kids grow up together" or some such thing. no comfort for how devastated i was at the loss of the relationship. she did invite me to move across the country back to my family, like i had no real life or existence of my own without this boyfriend. just a total disregard of how i must be feeling. moving "back home" would have been awful, not the comfort that it might be for most people. i had moved 2000 miles away in the first place for good reason.
my mom hated the very idea of psychotherapists. they take your money and don't do anything. not that she had ever been to one herself so how would she even know. when i became "boy crazy" at age 13, to her disgust, i suggested it might be because my father didn't give me any real love or support. she slapped the hell out of me for that uppity modern idea. she was just slap-happy with me from day one. also, in our jewish religion, a cracking slap across the face was traditional when a girl got her first period, to "welcome" her into what misery womanhood was. so besides hating the fact i had my first period at only 9 years old, and having terrible cramps which i never received any medication for, she all too happily gave me that slap. both my parents seemed to go into kind of unfocused, strange but subtle states when they were about to abuse me. my mother would get a kind of faraway look to her, like she had regressed to childhood somewhat, before hitting and screaming at me. and my father would get a faraway, unfocused look on his face before being sexually abusive. it was like they weren't really there at these times.
i can vent on and on about all this but i just wish it would relieve my deep depression i have now to do so.
when i was about 3-4, i'd be home alone with my mother because i wasn't in school yet. she would go into such rages that when she left the room i would go find her and tell her there was a horrible witch screaming in another part of the house. i needed desperately to feel that she was a safe, caring mother and that the screaming harpie i had just seen was someone else, a witch. she would laugh scornfully at my intense terror which caused me to do this. she was scornful of me in general. the first time i realized that what i was seeing in a mirror was my own reflection, i must have been very young, she acted like i was stupid for taking so long to realize it. if i didn't know a bog word, she would correct me scornfully, even though i was top of my class all the time at school. i just couldn't seem to develop mentally fast enough for her, so that she could stop taking care of "oversensitive" me and move me along toward the day when i would eventually take care of her. the minute i graduated high school and got a job, they started to charge me almost as much "room and board" as an apartment of my own would have cost. and i remember my father being shocked at my secretary's pay - it was apparently almost as much as he, a grown man in his 50s with a family to support, was earning. we lived in subsidized housing starting when i was 13 but i wasn't allowed to ever buy secondhand clothes. certain things were considered "shameful" but things like my father demanding sex from my mother when he knew i could hear from my bedroom, on purpose so that i would hear them, like i was a 3rd presence in their sexual act, that wasn't shameful. his quiet sexual abuse of me seemed to whiz right over my mother's head.
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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed127 Part 10
by Nobody at all
(Colorado, USA)
i was a "picky eater" as a child. besides semi-starving me and harassing me no end about it 24/7, my mother sometimes would shove the foods i couldn't stand down my throat. she was obsessed with getting me to eat an egg, just an egg with no trimmings, for lunch every day. one day she fixed me one - she couldn't make it so it tasted good, she wouldn't bother to - i was just a little girl. i just couldn't force myself to eat it so she put it in the fridge and when i said i was hungry later she reheated it and plunked it down in front of me. i still couldn't stomach it so she repeated this process all day, finally slamming it down hard on the table, cold from the fridge, screaming at me nonstop and slapping me silly. i was sensitive to wool being itchy but she bought me a wool hat one winter. i wore it to school. the teacher, for the first and only time i remember, had us stuff our hats into our coatsleeves that day. i totally forgot about it when i put on my coat to go home and it must have fallen out and gotten lost. i was always slapped silly for losing anything, even a pencil. when i got home and my hat was missing she went ballistic, saying i had thrown the hat away cuz i didn't like it, wasting money. another time i was in my early teens and interested in boys. she sent me to the store and i was given too little change. she went nuts on me, insisting i had failed to pay attention to how much change i was getting because i was too busy flirting with a certain boy, whom to this day i don't know what boy she was talking about. i also at that age had no idea that a store clerk might shortchange me. i was given no money of my own to manage. also in my early teens i was at a friend's house one day and suddenly the mother came to me pityingly and told me my mother had called and i better go right home. my mother had read my mail back at home and saw the word "sex" in a letter from a boy. she was beside herself with rage and implied i was a s**t beyond redemption. when i was 16 i had a boyfriend who went off to college. he wrote me at least once a day. one time he sent me a nice card and i displayed it on my dresser. he had signed it "love" and she just went thru the roof. the word love meant to her that we were having sex and i would turn up pregnant any minute. love to her was dreary responsibility devoid of any joy. my abusive, sadistic dad bringing home a paycheck and not spending it on booze or other women was "love" according to her. i had nothing to look forward to except that, if i was lucky, from a man, ever. men told you they loved u in order to get sex, period, all of them. i better wise up and learn that at 16. actually, i was stupid for not somehow knowing this already, from birth it seemed. she was always trying to save a few cents on my clothes. one time, when i was old enough to care about pretty clothes, she produced a few pairs of her own ugly cheap panties and told me we were the same size, which was ridiculous, and insisted i start wearing them. she had me safety-pin them on each side to stay up. when i turned 10 she was friendly with the mother of an ugly, fat boy who had the same b-day. she forced me over my protestations to have a "date" with this boy on our b-day, consisting of us having a sundae together. i was very rarely allowed yummy treats like this, so this pushed me over the edge to agree. i was so embarrassed to be out in public with this unattractive boy. i was molested by a neighbor at about 8-10 years old. i've gone into detail about this in other posts, but i forgot to mention that around this time i had a nasty-looking, itchy, smelly discharge in my panties for quite awhile but she never considered i might be being sexually abused. when i was an adult she visited me one time and i stored green peppers differently than she did. so she grabbed the pepper out of my hands without a word and proceeded to cut out the insides which was the way SHE thought was correct. this is a very small thing but it somehow typifies in a nutshell how she treated me, with no respect for my own personhood. i didn't know anything about how to do anything and it all had to be done her way, which was the only "right" way. she was bound and determined to get me to quit smoking when i was an adult. never mind that smoking practically kept me from milling myself at times because i had such bad psychiatric problems. when i once mentioned that my husband had quit long before he met me, she impatiently told me to ask him how he had done it, as though i wanted to quit and was simply looking for a way. she sounded like i was a simpleton for not having found out how he quit and then doing it myself.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part 12
by Nobody at all
(Colorado, USA)
ok i'm back. i have a terrible, deep-seated fear of being alone in the world, which i've put onto having to have a man. (i am happily married for 22 years, but damn it, i want my OWN happiness from inside ME!) i'm going to tie this in with my birth as follows: my mother was a rage-a-holic who would often cop an attitude of "i'm damned if anybody is going to take advantage of me any more". she has told me, in an angry, rage-a-holic tone, that when i was born she was exhausted from my (relatively short & easy) birth, & told them to take me away so she could sleep. she had no desire to be "nauseatingly mushy" & bond with me right after i was born. so i was put in the nursery for 13 hours while she slept. (she seemed to see hospital stays as a pleasant thing, where someone else was taking care of her, preparing & serving her food, letting her stay in bed, etc. - i'll have more on this later or in another post.) i have a strong suspicion that these 13 hours played a terrible, crucial role in my never being able to form a sense of independence. i was made to be TOO independent right after birth, rather than being nurtured at that crucial time & then gradually being taught independence little by little later on. my mother sounded so proud of this episode, relating in a disgusted voice how she didn't let little newborn me suck any more energy out of her after she had pushed me out. she felt this was an instance of her "taking a stand" against being "taken advantage of", workwise. she had people to "wait on her", including take care of her newborn baby, & would have been crazy not to take full advantage of this rare break in her apparently otherwise workhorse existence, which consisted of taking care of one other child & being a wife and homemaker.
i have also had some strong suspicions that they tried to abort me but were unsuccessful. i was definitely a "mistake" & they had no money to deal with another child. i would have been conceived in july, & my mother hated being touched at all, and hated the heat, (let alone being touched when it was hot), which was very oppressive in july where i grew up. my mother had no interest in sex with my father - he must have cajoled her, with the belief that she couldn't get pregnant again, i guess. she had had 2-3 failed pregnancies earlier on. i'm into meditation somewhat, & had a sudden, surprising vision in one session where my parents tried together, at home, to abort me, but failed. after that, i believe my mother promised my father that she'd make sure i wasn't any burden on the family or the finances, thus my being half-starved in childhood & ill-clothed & treated like a hanger-on, which i tell about in an earlier post.
i AM getting help & will see my previous, wonderful therapist again in 2 days after a 1-year hiatus (it's expensive!)
more later.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part 13
by Nobody at all (NOA)
(Colorado, USA)
in the past few days i've been working on letting go of some major issues & turning them over to a higher power. actually jesus. for example, i've been clinging tightly onto my rage & hatred, toward everyone from my parents, to my molesters, to mean bosses i've had, to casually-hurtful friends, to ex-boyfriends, to strangers who would tell me how to live my life as they passed by me at the mall or on the street. anyway, i've felt i NEEDED to hold onto all this negative stuff, that if i let it go i might forget some of it, which i felt would diminish me as a person somehow. but the other day i looked at the anger & hatred carefully & decided i had gotten all i could from it, be it in therapy or whatever, & finally was able to "turn it over" & let God hold onto it for me so i can be free to deal with other things. from my off-again-on-again meditation practice, i've learned how to acknowledge that a feeling has popped up, then immediately let go of it as best i can. so i've been doing this with the anger since i turned it over the other day. the results have been wonderful, off & on.
next i have a ton of fear to deal with. i also have a lot of dread, which is i guess the anticipation of fear. i looked closely at the dread today & decided i could turn that over. i believe it came from being expected, as young as 3 years old, to understand what to do so as not to set my mother off on one of her rages. she expected me to have the maturity & sense of responsibility of a 40-year-old at age 3. she would scream and rage viciously if i didn't meet her expectations & be responsible, say for putting my toys away, at an age when i didn't even understand how to do this. i was expected to never be daydreaming, lost in play, relaxed & carefree. i should always be anticipating what my mother might want me to do next, & even read her mind about it. so i was constantly on guard from earliest childhood, not even knowing what i was on guard ABOUT, nor how to forestall it. so i think this is where the ever-present feelings of foreboding & dread that i have now at age 58 came from. (the trouble is, knowing this in my head & feeling it & processing it & releasing it, are 2 different things.) so, in addition to the therapy route, i've begun turning things over to God for safekeeping. if i "need" the rage & hatred back at any time, i'll ask Him for it back. same with the dread - i don't need it anymore, but it got hammered into me so deeply and at such a young age that it feels like an inborn part of me. it's hard to see how "healthy" would feel when it was taken from you so early on. instead i've been clinging on to ALL I KNOW, which is resentment & fear.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part 14
by Nobody at all (NOA)
(Colorado, USA)
in grade school, we had to write little poems. i would simply churn out something that i knew would be pleasing to adults, with none of my own feelings in it, & get A's for this drivel. also we had to memorize poems sometimes. then at home when we had company, i was put on exhibit to embarrassingly recite whatever cutesy crap had been drilled into my head, then regurgitate it back so the adults could say how cute it was. after this i was hurried away from the adult company, being of no use anymore & therefore just a pain in the a** once i had entertained these unfeeling big people.
skipping around - i had many sexually abusive experiences when i was technically an adult, which i want to include here anyway. on the jammed-tight public transport system, i once found myself helplessly jammed front-to-front with a guy who was grinding himself against me. i might have still been under 18 at this time, not sure. when the bus stopped & i got a little distance from him, i saw that his zipper was down, revealing his underwear, & he had been using me to grind against.
the subway stops i waited at would have obscenities graffitied onto the walls. i used this one stop ever since i was little, even with my mother there. it said, more than once, on the walls, something like "i suck bloody c***ts". my parents were so out-of-it & old-fashioned that i'm positive they didn't know what this even meant.
i went home from a bar with a guy one time & he raped me anally during what was supposed to be normal sex. i told him i felt faint from the pain & asked for a glass of water. he said to get it myself. i asked him to call me a cab & he said call one yourself.
one time i was driving myself & a girlfriend home from bar-hopping, age about 19. we stopped at a roadside stand for some food. you couldn't go in, you ordered from the street. suddenly a group of young men appeared out of nowhere & started grabbing thru the car windows at my friend and me. the windows were non-electric so i couldn't just close them quicly. i asked the business owners to call the police. they were terrified of these boys & wouldn't do anything. there was a pay phone right outside the stand so i got out of my car & tried to use that. the boys grabbed it away from me. i got back in the car & tried to start it, & they opened my hood real quick & disabled something so i couldn't go anywhere. finally i jumped into the middle of the road, doing jumping jacks & waving my arms, & suddenly a cab was there & the guys disappeared. we took the cab to our respective homes, with my girlfriend acting like i had overreacted! like most everything else bad that ever happened to me, i didn't feel i could tell my parents - they would always question me endlessly until they found some way that bad events were my own fault. then they wondered why i never confided in them.
i was walking thru a huge huge beautiful tree preserve park one time, about 18 years old, dressed fashionably as a hippie. a couple of young men made me stop & said i had to either give them the marijuana they suspected, correctly, that i had on me, or suck their c***ks. i needed the pot so badly, in order to be able to sleep at night, that i chose the 2nd option.
i used to hitchhike a lot at about 18-19 years old, & one time a guy picked me up, took me somewhere in the woods, & raped me, saying he didn't want to have to get his knife out. believe me, i cooperated.
i was so promiscuous anyway another random guy didn't matter. i just had no direction in life & was trying to find one in a guy. most of them would have sex with me once & then discard me.
the same girlfriend who thought i overreacted at the roadside stand, also acted like I was the crazy one when we would go out & eat & drink alcohol, and i didn't want to throw it up by sticking my finger down my throat. she said everyone did it & i was weird.
more later.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part15
by Nobody at all (NOA)
(Colorado, USA)
btw, i use the name "nobody at all" because that's what most people have made me feel like all my life. i realize i'm "re-abusing myself" or whatever by using it, but i'm trying to make a point i guess.
when i was 19, i brought my car to be repaired at a local gas station. i never seemed to be able to get a guy to ask me out, i was really lonely. a guy who worked there started telling me i should dress in a sexy winter coat instead of the warm, sensible one i needed for the frigid winter weather. (i hadn't asked for his opinion on anything, btw, hadn't told him i couldn't get a date or anything.) he pointed out a young woman walking by who was wearing the kind of pretty but impractical coat that i have never been able to get away with, without catching bad colds. he said i should dress like that. i was feeling humiliated. he asked me out for that evening, saying he would teach me how to be desirable, more or less. we got into a car & had sex, & this was one of the few times i enjoyed sex among all the times i was having it, because he was being condescending & acting like he was doing me a favor, & this turned me on. i've told my therapist about this incident, & she lumped it in with general abuse, but to me, this was different, because, although it was in a sick way, i had a sexual encounter that i actually enjoyed, for whatever reasons. he thought he was using me, but i was using him back in a way he didn't suspect, which felt like a perverted kind of "liberating" experience for me. sex had always been, & still is at age 58, difficult for me, but that time it was easy in its own forbidden way.
i had another similar experience when i was maybe a little older. i had met a guy at a park, & he asked me to go back to his car w/him. as we began to make out, he showed me some mildly pornographic pictures. his attitude, like the "pretty coat" guy's above, had nothing to do with relating to me at all, & i enjoyed this much more than the relationship sex i had had with earlier boyfriends. i didn't seek out this kind of thing ever, but these 2 times i did enjoy it. sex within a relationship tends to bore me. you can read in my other posts that i was sexually abused in childhood, which i'm sure is where this came from.
my sexuality, self-esteem, and most everything else positive that BELONGED TO ME that i was born with, were taken away from me at a very early age. i was young, vulnerable, & "up for grabs" to anyone who wanted a piece of my body or soul. to this day i'm way oversensitive to the least hint of being treated like a non-person, such as by a boss, or a business who just wants my money. i just get enraged very easily.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part 16
by Nobody at all (NOA)
(Colorado, USA)
my mother was scornful of me when i was little & i tried to be comforting to her when she was upset. love, to her, meant bringing home the money. any heartfelt gestures of wanting to help an unfortunate person, take in a stray animal, pat her shoulder when she was upset, she would scorn bitterly. they were the naive feelings of a child, and children had no idea of the "cost" of being sympathetic or generous. "sure, you want to give your blanket to that bum on the street. but then guess who would have to buy you another blanket - me!" my tender impulses were met with scorn & ridicule until i didn't have any of them anymore. then my parents shook their heads at what a cold person they had raised.
my mother would announce she was leaving the family once in awhile, to get my father's attention. she would get all dressed in her hat & coat & say she was going to check herself into a mental hospital, which absolutely terrified me. my older brother was old enough to know this was just a ruse, & would ridicule me about my fear, or else try to increase it. my mom's idea that living in a mental hospital would be preferable to staying with our family really creeped me out & terrified me. i had seen crazy women on the street who had lost their babies & were allowed out of the notorious local mental hospital to wander the streets clutching fake babies, with bandages around their heads from electroshock treatments or brain surgery. my mother was checking herself in there & would be lost to me forever. she would come back in maybe an hour & get some kind of grudging apology from my mentally abusive father - she wanted him to "beg" her to stay apparently. she didn't care what kind of mental harm she was doing to me at these times.
she would sometimes take me, either alone or with my brother, by bus somewhere so that my father would come home to an empty house not knowing where we were. she felt she had to go this far to get his attention. one time she took us to a beach that was pretty far on public transportation. when she was ready to return home, she realized the buses weren't running that late. so she began begging every man she saw for a ride home for us. it was so weird - people in my family generally didn't do off-the-wall, desperate stuff like this. i remember all the men refusing to give us a ride for some reason. i think she broke down & called my dad for a ride home, which messed up her whole point of showing him she could take off any time she wanted to, and didn't need him. it was really scary for my maybe 8-year-old or younger self.
in an earlier post i mentioned being forced to go out on my first "date" at age 10 with an ugly boy who had the same b-day as me. i forgot to say at the end, that i was also forced to KISS him at the end of the date. this was my FIRST KISS! this satisfied both mothers' ideas of "cuteness" of their kids, with no thought to my dignity of who i would go out with or kiss. pleasing his mother, an acquaintance, was more important than my protests that i didn't want to go out with him. they got their little "isn't that cute" buttons satisfied at the expense of my self-ownership.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part 17
by Nobody at all (NOA)
(Colorado, USA)
when i was about 13, a girlfriend and i were walking down the street one time, when a man in a car stopped to ask us directions. he kept asking the same thing over & over for a long time. then finally he asked me if i realized my skirt had ridden way up almost to my waist so you could see my whole crotch area covered only by my pantihose. there were pigs like him everywhere in the city where i was raised. if i had told my parents, my father would have been sexually stimulated by the story, possibly making me tell it to him over & over, & my mother would have found some reason that it was my fault, that i shouldn't have been walking at that spot, should have been i guess checking my skirt for staying down 100 times a minute, whatever. anything so that she didn't have to believe we couldn't afford to live in a safe area.
when i was a little girl maybe 5 years old, my father would come home from work and ask me how my day had been. i would start telling him, but would notice after a few moments that he wasn't listening at all, but rather goofing on my childish prattling way of talking. as i've mentioned in other posts, he seemed unable to see that i was a PERSON & needed respect & real attention. i was there for his amusement, whether to laugh at how i babbled, to fondle me inappropriately, to put his cigar between his lips so he could more efficiently kick me when i "misbehaved" - i can see the sole of his shoe right now, & the cold, dead look in his eyes. he was like the living dead, just a shell of a person, with a weirdly-wired brain. btw, i don't remember ever being kicked HARD, no danger of broken ribs or anything. like my other abuse, it fell just under the wire of being considered "wrong" or harmful to me at that period in America, & in the social level we lived at. after a while, i didn't want to talk to my father when he came home from work, but was forced to anyway by my mother so as not to hurt HIS feelings!
i was told over & over by adults that i was too "serious" & "nervous" of a child. they just wanted to see a carefree-looking, sunny little girl, with no concern for what my life might really be like. to this day, i detest when men will say as they walk by me "Smile!" They want me to arrange my face, a total stranger to them, in a pleasing expression so they can see what they want as they walk by for one second. what wonderful, deeply concerned advice - "smile!". gee, thanks, now that i've "smiled" for you, i'm "happy" and my life is a bed of roses. my inner feelings apparently belong to strangers on the street (men) to display in a way they desire.
when i was in kindergarten, my brother was in 6th grade, the only time we were ever in the same school. i didn't realize he went to my school, & one day when he came into my classroom to deliver milk I excitedly yelled out that he was my brother. he shrank away in absolute disgust, denying as best he could that he WAS my brother. i don't remember ever doing anything to him but adore him & try to follow him around. to this day he treats me like a specimen in a petri dish.
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 Name Undisclosed127 Part 18
by Nobody at all (NOA)
(Colorado, USA)
we were so poor when i was growing up that we didn't go to the worlds fair that was being held a 2-hour train ride away when i was about 10. when i started school that fall, the teacher told us to all write about our visits to the worlds fair. out of 30 kids, i and one other (extremely poor-looking) child, hadn't gone. the teacher seemed surprised and pitying that we hadn't gone to this once-in-a-lifetime cultural bonanza & let us write our essays on what we HAD done that summer. when i told my mother, she as always denied that we were poor, & called the worlds fair a "glorified circus", her term for anything "gaudy" (read "exciting & fun & colorful") & told me that i would have hated it. xmas trees, circuses, easter baskets, anything in-your-face fun, i was deprived of, & on top of that, told all the reasons i wouldn't have liked these things, rather than that we couldn't afford them, & that my mother hated anything spectacular or fun. all she wanted was a business-as-usual, dull life - no room for childish enjoyment for her kids. everything had to be neatly contained with little stimulation or she would get "nervous" at the possible lack of control she perceived as being imminent.
when i was about 14-15, i had a girlfriend who was very pretty & who had, at age 14, met the man she would later marry at a party she & i were at. he showered her with attention, presents, & love - he was 17 & very self-confident & grown-up for his age, & there was no question she would be marrying him as soon as she was 18, which she did, & is to this day still happily married to him 40 years later. when i brought this friend home to meet my mother, her first reaction was that this girl was "prettier than me" & "had stars in her eyes" about her boyfriend. if I had had "stars in my eyes" about a boy i would have been a sl*t, but my mother kind of fell in love with this girl's romance. i had been dying to have a boyfriend for 2 or 3 years & was horribly jealous of my friend. she & i were in the popular crowd at school & were best friends, & she was a very nice girl. one day my mother got tired of my endless tears & misery which my jealousy of this girl caused. one of my aunts was there at the time. my aunt said that all the other girls in my crowd were "sucking up" to this girl "for her boyfriend" (she meant, they were trying to take him away from her, which was ridiculous), & that i should "tell off" this nice, fortunate girl of whom i was jealous. my mother picked up the ball & ran with it, ordering me to tell this girl the next day at school that she was a showoff, flaunting her boyfriend in everyone's faces, etc., none of which was true. i took my mother's & aunt's advice, & the next thing i knew I was totally shunned by this group of girls from then on, from age 14-18 when we all graduated from this same school. they made up a very hurtful nickname for me & bullied me forever after that. by taking my mother's advice, which felt like more of an order that she was making me do so that i wouldn't mope around anymore being jealous of this girl & thus not cause HER (my mom) to be troubled out of her childlike stupor, i had lost all my friends in one fell swoop & "had to eat my lunch all by myself" as the song goes, for the whole rest of high school. my mother just didn't want to be bothered by my jealousy & misery. she never wanted to help me with my emotions. she would either give me a "tell-her-off" speech to say to someone i was complaining about, or else give me some very superficial advice like "jealousy will only eat you up inside" (but i just couldn't CONTROL the jealousy), "you're your own worst enemy" (one of her favorites), "the trouble with you is....", "you'll never be happy because...." Never any real help as to why i was so jealous, why i wanted a boyfriend so badly, why i couldn't seem to get one, who i really was inside. when she did scratch the surface & discover that i was pretty messed up inside, more so the deeper she looked, i was told with disgust to change my attitude or whatever, even to "smile and the world smiles with you". i mean, yes, my attitude needed changing, but there's no way i could have done that without professional help. my parents were totally against psychotherapy - "they just take your money & don't do anything". i see now that they were afraid of having anyone see inside the family dynamics. my father especially would have had to change big-time, which he would have been totally unwilling to do. they would have been resistant to any form of outside "meddling" from a therapist. see my many many other posts to learn more about our sick family dynamic.
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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed127 Part 19
by Nobody at all (NOA)
(Colorado, USA)
i can't in all honesty say whether the following was an effect of child abuse or not, but it did happen during my childhood & is far & away the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
the summer that i was either 11 or 12, i can't piece together which one it was, something happened the first day i was off school for the summer. (i HAD been sexually abused by my "worst" molester previous to this, but it didn't feel like it had anything to do with it, & i still can't really make a connection between the 2.) what happened was, i had had a busy school year & then suddenly it was summer & i didn't "have" to do anything. i wasn't given chores to do & had no desire to go to camp. i was planning to just read my way through the summer - i loved to read. so i curled up with a book the first day, & suddenly i started having these thoughts from nowhere, about the meaning of life more or less. it progressed through the summer from seeing that everything i had ever been told by adults or "experts", or read about, had no meaning at bottom if you looked at it hard enough. so what if i grew up to go into a career that helped the poor or whatever, got married, had children. everything just turns to dust in the end. everyone in the world seemed like ants to me, hurrying around to accomplish what would come to nothing since they would all die one day.
then it got worse. objects around me didn't look familiar. it was like they had no real meaning or essence. maybe everything that looked like it was real was just an illusion. furniture, people, everything. i could find absolutely no meaning in anything. everything looked "cheap" like it was from the dollar store, just cheap plastic, including people, the empire state building, the oceans, everything. this was terribly terribly creepy. i felt like only my mind was real, not my body & certainly not anything else on earth. my consciousness was the only thing that was real, i was totally alone in the universe, except that after awhile the universe itself was just a figment of my imagination, something i had made up so as not to know that i was totally alone. the dimension of time ceased to exist for me - there was only the present moment, if i "died" i would still have consciousness of this terrible fact that i was totally alone in the (non)universe. i thought about the concept of god but i knew there was no such thing - people (whom i had only imagined into existence anyway) had made up the concept of god in their pathetic ignorance. i would have killed myself immediately if i had thought it would end my consciousness, and my awareness of the fact that only my own mind existed, but i knew it wouldn't help. i was rocked by horror & panic freshly each second, as though i was receiving this awareness of myself being the only thing in the universe, freshly each moment. i lost a lot of weight from my already skinny frame. i had no appetite or would take 3 bites & be unable to eat anymore. going into another room besides my room would give me a horrible agorophobic feeling. my mom stayed home with me that summer while just my dad & my brother went on our usual yearly vacation. i told my mother i couldn't possibly go. one time she forced me to go to the store down the block with her, & it just made it all worse, although i couldn't have imagined it could BE any worse. everything looked like i had never seen it before. the opposite of deja vu, in which everything looks like you've been there before & you know what's about to happen, & then it does, which is eerie enough in its own way. i found out only as an adult that what i was experiencing is called derealization & is considered part of dissociative identity disorder. i had no words for what i was going through & could only tell my mother that i felt like i was in a daze, dreaming, in a movie, that nothing seemed real. no horror movie can scare me - this was worse than any horror movie ever made. at one point i felt like i just didn't have room for one more "drop" of this ever-increasing hell, and then another "drop" was added, which felt like a total impossibility. it was some kind of a metaphysical hell that i wouldn't wish on adolf hitler. there was no being, like the devil, or force, that was "doing" this to me - it just WAS, & always had been, it was TRUTH, & i had always kept myself too busy to notice it. i had been running just one step ahead of it all my life, and then when i slowed down when school was out, i had nothing to distract me from it & it was right there in my face, & i could never again deny this awful truth that i now knew, which there was no going back from once you knew it.
anticlimactically, when it was time to decide whether i would go back to school in the fall, i decided to go & give it a try, & the horror faded away as i got caught up in school life. but it was the REALEST thing i've ever experienced, it's like it was shown to me under the glare of a harsh, uncaring light, with no compassion for my young age. "it" just WAS, it was neither good nor evil, it didn't care whether it caused me exruciating agony or great happiness, it was just a totally unfeeling MACHINE that i knew was the only thing besides me that existed. i've never had anything close to that bad happen to me in my whole life. i take it out & try to figure it out from time to time. my wonderful husband listens to me talk about it endlessly & tries to come up with what it might have been. he thinks i might have slipped into another dimension accidentally, maybe i got stuck somehow between my own life & a parallel self in a parallel universe, & so everything familiar looked "wrong". i know now that i needed some kind of help that summer but i don't know that any therapist or psychiatrist or medication would have helped. i am convinced that this is what hell is, just a big nothingness from which you can never escape. hell isn't physical torture, fire, the devil, just this nothingness.
i had no ability to cry during this period, nothing that "human". everything was just a cold, non-alive piece of some kind of metaphysical "stainless steel" with absolutely nothing human about it. i just sat or lay there tense & unable to break down & cry - it was way beyond the relief that tears bring.
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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed127 Part 20
by Nobody at all (NOA)
(Colorado, USA)
ok, i want to say some of the good things about my parents, because whenever i felt they were being abusive, my mother would find ways to show me how much worse other kids had it (which many of them did), & tell me how much my own parents cared about me. when i was 13, i desperately wanted stylish clothes, makeup, & the like. my mom went out & got a part-time job to buy these things 4 me, as well as provide a few extras 4 the family as a whole. now, i want to say here - i was a clingy child, and, at 13, i didn't even know where to find my pajamas in my room. one day i came home from school with one of my many many bad colds starting, & i sat & waited 4 her to get home, upon which i melted down because i came home sick & she wasn't home. i knew she was at work & would be home soon, which she was. but i'm beginning to wonder - which came first, the chicken or the egg? was i so very clingy because she kept me so dependent on her, or was it the other way around? whenever there was some rough-and-tumble activity, or anything involving the outdoors, being away from home overnight, anything independent like that, she would tell me, with a tone of disgust sometimes, that this activity was "not for me'. anyway, she quit this job, which she loved, after a bit, because of my neediness. my parents were very very dependable. they were very old-fashioned, they were born in the 1910s. if they promised you something 3 years ago, then 3 years later, it would materialize right on cue. they could hardly believe it when i was a little older & a boy would stand me up for a date - that was a huge sin to them. i was supposed to keep all my promises, religiously. also, any kind of debt was a sin to my father, such as using a credit card. it was shameful. they never seemed to progress mentally beyond the standards of the 1940s-50s, when they were in their prime. many adults would take me aside & tell me how lucky i was to have such loving, concerned parents. i was told, both by my parents & other adults, how much more they cared about me & my brother than most parents cared about their kids. my mom would protect me about 95% of the time from my father's sadistic tendencies. she intervened over & over & over when she thought he was being unfair or mean to me. she did this in regards to my brother being mean to me too. she instilled a strong sense of fairness in me, & i felt justice was done for me most of the time. she was really sorry we were so poor & thus i didn't have hardly any pleasures or fun stuff.
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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed127 Part 21
by Nobody at all (NOA)
(Colorado, USA)
ok, i want to be scrupulously fair to my parents, because i have so much trouble in therapy feeling really justified about their abuse.
if my father would see me struggling with something around the house, a cord being hard 4 me to plug in, things like that, he would come over & have me give him the offending item, without my asking, & fix things to where they were easy for me. both my parents were very attentive, maybe too much so. one time i kept finding tiny spiders on my bed, & they kept thinking they had found the source & fixing the problem, like 3 times in a row. i still found a spider when i went back in my room. i demanded they take care of the problem. my tired father finally determined that the spiders were coming from an old wooden lamp next to my bed, which took some figuring out & trouble on his part. he got the lamp out of there so i could be free of the bugs. my mother tried to create a fun, easygoing atmosphere 4 my brother & me. when i got home from school, she would ask me if i would "give" her a game of crazy eights or whatever, then we would also play games after supper. she enjoyed this as much as i did. i remember, looking back, many times that she would hesitate a little before answering a question i asked, groping for just the right, tactful thing to say that would help me without hurting my feelings, & without putting down other people too much. if i had a mean teacher, i would come home every day & tell her about it, & she would sympathize with me totally, saying what a meanie the teacher was, & how next year i would be free of her. when i was 16, i hated my frizzy, impossible hair. long, straight hair was the only fashionable way at that time. she would patiently iron my hair on the ironing board every day after my shower. my dad would try to once in a while give me something that they couldn't really afford, but i think this was so that i would "love" him, not selflessly. he would undermine my mom by telling her, in private, not to spend hardly any money on me, food, clothes, whatever, then face-to-face with me he'd act like SHE was the cheap one, but this only happened once in a while. she would be understandably pissed - at him, not me. my mom's mom didn't let her have friends over when she was growing up, so my mom went out of her way to make my friends feel welcome. she would play games with us, & engage in warm, caring conversation with my friends. when i was a teenager, we had an 8-year-old girl living downstairs whose alcoholic mother was prostituting out of her apartment. the little girl was scared & broken. she was kicked out of her home while her mother conducted business, & maybe worse happened to her, i don't know. my mom took this girl under her wing, feeding her, playing games with her, and generally making her life a lot more bearable. (however - she would use this little girl's life to make me feel that my own gripes were "nothing" compared to the suffering of this little girl.) mom would listen patiently, endlessly, all about my day every day when i got home from school. she would also make sure i knew that my father was wrong in his sometimes sadistic attitude towards me, & that i just had to wait till i grew up & then i would have a good life.
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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed127 Part 22
by Nobody at all (NOA)
(Colorado, USA)
ok, i tried to get everything down that my parents did right, in my 2 previous posts. also, they provided a very "wholesome" atmosphere, no drinking, no drugs, no swearing, clothes clean & neat, not much junk food, medical care even when we couldn't afford it. my mom was very nice to me when i was sick, which was really often. (later, as an adult, she referred to my getting sick so much with disgust in her voice.)
now on to some not-so-good stuff. it didn't take much to "discipline" me - i would be absolutely DISTRAUGHT if mom was mad at me. she would sometimes announce she "wasn't talking to me" for the whole rest of the day when i did something that got her mad. this might be something as simple as being too much of a chatterbox, too demanding of attention. i would be devastated. as can be seen by my many many posts, i have a desperate need for attention. this has been a big problem in my adult life, i take responsibility for it.
once i was an adult, my mother also told me one time, in disgust, that i had had "too much" confidence as a child. she told me that when my ballet teacher would have me get up in front of the whole class to "show them how it was done", it was REALLY because i was so BAD at the dancing. this makes no sense to me. also, i do have a horrible singing voice, & was "corrected" by mom on how i was singing around the house. i was forced to kiss relatives whom i didn't want to kiss - i know now this is considered wrong, it might make the child accept sexual abuse later on, which it did. i want to say that even from a very young age (babyhood), i for one remember being horrified by my aunts' bending over me with garish makeup on. i think children of any age are much more aware than adults can imagine. i was horrified at their fake, overly-made-up faces & would search their eyes for the "realness" that i needed to see. one time when i was about 13, my mother was "lying in wait" 4 me when i got home from school. she hid somewhere, waited till i got on the phone with my girlfrend, then jumped out & scared the hell out of me, because i had been talking about boys & the little i knew about sex.
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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed127 Part 23
by Nobody at all (NOA)
(Colorado, USA)
my mom would also pinch me once in awhile besides the slapping & kicking & extreme yelling. in the last year or so i've taken to slapping myself when i feel angry but not very often, it's not a real problem.
mom was scornful if i made her a "mushy" mothers day or b-day card, it was "sickening". i was not allowed to slam doors ever, in anger. i was just supposed to swallow any anger i had. if i slammed a door, i was made to go back & close it again, gently. my parents wouldn't change with the times at all. when seat belts came out, they wouldn't wear them. when i was driving them somewhere, i would ask them to put on their seat belts because of the law, & they refused. but anything THEY thought was a safety necessity HAD to be done religiously. my dad was very verbally mean to mom, & one time i thought i saw a mark on her cheek. i don't think now that it was, she drew the line at him hitting her, but she was SO SCORNFUL of my concern, as she was any time i tried to be "grown-up" & take care of her a little. i was made to feel that i had no idea what concern or taking care of someone was, until i was grown up & putting my money where my mouth was i guess. my childish attempts to console my mom over my dad's being mean to her, or when she didn't feel well, were met with such derision. none of the current-day "she's such a sweet, generous, caring little girl". nosirree - it was impossible to be a caring person until you were making the money & then let's see how much of it you were willing to part with to "help" somebody else. the almighty dollar replaced feelings in a person's heart, money was "love" in my household, & i didn't have any to give as a little child. we were so poor that mom would sometimes switch the tags on clothing she was buying me, & also tell my tightfisted dad that they had cost less than they did, making sure i backed her up in her lie. one time when i was about 17, mom got the same nasty flu i had just gotten over. she hardly ever got sick, & she swore she was literally "dying" & when i tried to help her, give her medicine, she said to leave her alone, she was dying. always rejected my attempts to give love. SHE was the one able to give love or not give it, because she was an adult, & she & my dad had the money.
i hadn't realized it was considered abusive till i read it somewhere recently, but if i complained i would be threatened with foster homes, juvenile detention, them getting divorced.
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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed127 Part 24
by Nobody at all (NOA)
(Colorado, USA)
sorry, i don't remember how many posts i've made so far.
i've been turning various things over to God lately, since no amount of therapy or anything else seems to help. i particularly would like to have more memories and have them be more complete, but at age 58 i guess there must still be stuff i'm not strong enough to remember, and may never be, so i decided to stop trying to remember, to "integrate" what i do remember, to push push push about everything. interestingly, when i give something over to God, often i'll get something helpful about whatever i turned over, within a day or 2. recently i turned over "dread". i live w/a feeling of dread all the time, as well as anxiety (fear), which i didn't feel i could relinquish since i wasn't "done" "exploring" it yet - but i looked at my dread and decided i could let it go. a day or 2 later, i suddenly got a memory of being about 3 or 4, and knowing my daily enema was coming. i was alone at home with my mother, this was before this "chore" got to be too hard for her to do alone without my father's help in holding me down. it was like this memory was something i had been thisclose to remembering but couldn't, quite, before this. i would listen and watch as my mother got the soapy water ready for the enema and other preparations. i got a clear picture of my father's old-fashioned, rusty razor sitting on the sink so i know this memory was in the bathroom. i was in a horrible, otherwordly state of dread at what i knew was coming. i just don't know how to describe it. it was like i was in the presence of pure evil and scared DOWN TO MY VERY SOUL. i don't remember the enema itself, just this unbelievable dread while waiting for it. i still feel dread every day anyway, even though i turned it over to God, but that's ok, these things can take time.
soon after this, i decided i didn't have to be done exploring every facet and shred of memory about everything in order to be ready to turn it over to God's safekeeping, so i turned over Fear too, and shortly after that, everything. i'm so filled with hatred, rage, bitterness, contempt for other people, you name it, that i obviously haven't done a very good job of managing my life on my own. i don't know which of these are aftereffects of child abuse, but i have always felt fury at the least insult or unfairness, contempt for anyone who's never experienced anything really bad in life and so isn't "smart" enough to be hypervigilant about everything all the time, as well as other negative feelings which color my life so much that they just feel like normal life to me. i have very little idea of who i really am underneath all the vicious negative feelings. i often want to slap people, wish bad things on other people, and feel hatred, especially of innocence, relaxation, and carefreeness in others.
i've begun to see some of the less obviously "abusive" things from my childhood as nevertheless having robbed me of my own identity. an example is, when i was too little to remember things like turning off the light when i left a room, or putting my things away, my mother would scream at me to "WRITE IT DOWN!' so i couldn't use the "excuse" of not remembering. she had me making lists of things i "needed" to remember from as early as i could write or print. i became an extreme list-maker and have suffered no end of ridicule all my life for being overly practical, sensible, and organized. i have no idea how organized, or not, i really would be, if i had been left alone about all this when i was too young for it, and absolutely terrorized about the consequences of forgetting to do each and every little tiny thing she seemed to find absolutely necessary for a tiny child to be totally responsible for.
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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed127 Part 25
by Nobody at all (NOA)
(Colorado, USA)
it wasn't that the punishment for not turning off the light or whatever would even be that bad. what my mother didn't seem to understand was that all the punishment i needed about anything, when i was very little, was to be out of her good graces. i absolutely couldn't bear it when she was mad at me, even if she didn't hit that particular time. just her yelling at me and my knowing she was displeased with me was all the punishment necessary. i was terrified whenever she was mad at me - she was my only lifeline in what felt like a totally threatening world of mean peers, a sadistic father, a terrifyingly rigid school system. i mean, i did outstandingly at school, but i was still terrified of the teachers and most of the other kids. the whole world felt like an overwhelmingly scary place. my mother, during the times when she was nice, was my only salvation. i was terrified she would die and leave me alone in the world.
i tend to jump all over the place in my thoughts - i learned early on to be hyperaware of many things at once to try and forestall getting screamed at and slapped. so if i'm concentrating on something, i'm constantly worried that i'm forgetting about something else that's very important. so i'll jump here to my 5-year-older brother. when he was maybe 14 and i was 9, we would sit outside on warm summer evenings. some of the boys would weave blades of grass into rings to give to grls they liked. i begged for my brother, whom i absolutely idolized even though he was very mean to me, to make me a grass ring. finally my mother forced him to. i don't think she was right to make him do this, btw. my point is that i felt so unloved, so deliberately excluded by my brother, and so sadistically used by my father, that i was just dying for a "romantic" present like a grass ring, even though i had little idea what romance even was. i just wanted to be sought after and liked. to this day, at age 58, i still am triggered negatively by the feel of soft summer evening air and the gentle smells associated with summer evenings. i can't enjoy things for what they are, that nature's beauty belongs to everyone to enjoy. i can't enjoy this type of thing unless the stuff that's "supposed" to go with it is there too. a moonlit sky or a sky full of stars just makes me miserable because of all the romantic times i never experienced with a lover. i can't get into the mood of a love song without "taking it personally" if i don't have a romantic relationship at the time. one time, a few months ago, i was feeling better than usual, and for maybe the first time in my life i was able to listen to the radio and get into the various moods of each song without feeling i had to actually be in that place right then. during this one time, a sad song would make me remember, in a light, easy way, a time when i had had a broken heart. a bouncy happy song would make me feel bouncy and happy, etc. - but this "gift" that others enjoy effortlessly as a normal part of life, was only available to me that once. i've always been told i'm "too serious" and take everything to heart too much, including careless (to me, cruel/unfeeling) remarks by others. i always seem to see a much deeper meaning in everything than others. being forced as a tiny child to get over my natural silliness, desire to have fun, and general inborn lightheartedness and become a superresponsible, serious-minded, uber-practical 4-year-old adult caused me to not only miss most of the fun of childhood, but even was so much overkill that i wasn't able to get back my ability to relax and have fun ever again. i AM in therapy, and i even do have a wonderful long-term marriage. but i still feel like i've missed out on almost all the natural stages of life. i don't feel like i experienced things when all my peers were experiencing them. i've always been outside the flow of life. i'll start liking a song or a clothing or hair style when it's already out of style. my own internal, angst-ridden, overserious inner world easily runs roughshod over whatever's going on in the world around me. i'm never in step with the times or with my peers. i have very few friends. nobody likes being around a serious, analytical person who can't relax and go with the flow. going with the flow, for me, means letting others CONTROL me with THEIR "flow". i know i need to lighten up and love myself, whatever that means, and all that good stuff, but i'm just reporting what lifelong nagative effects the subtler forms of child abuse, in my case being forced to be "adult" when i was still a toddler, can have on a person.
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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed128
by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)
Sickened by misplaced trust:
I was molested by a close family member at a young age, He would touch me all over and at first i felt it was wrong, but that having the trust that he was my family made it seem okay. It only lasted a couple of years, but by the time he stopped touching me and making me feel like his special little princess i felt it was something i did maybe i wasnt good enough anymore or wasnt cute or didnt satisfy him the right away anymore, i drive myself crazy thinking of what it could of been. Since he stopped i barely have contact and to this day i cry because i loved him so much, to me that will always be the sickest thing- i still love him and would go through it all over again if he were to just say that he loves me too. i hate myself for the way i think but i dont know how to change, and i just want him to love me the way i loved him.
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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed129
by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)
This is is really hard for me but any way i need someone to listen cos i cant help but keep remembering this events.I was raped from the age of 5 to 8.But i really did not know what was going on then when i was 10/11 I was playing with my three years old brother and i started humping on him this happened three times.I did think much of it i was oblivious to it i did not know what i was doing.then from the age of 12-14 i was raped severly again.I am 16 right now but all i could think about is what i did to my brother because now i am more aware of the meaning.From the outside people think i am beautiful, intelligent and smart and exburent but inside i am dying i have even tried to commit sucide on several occasion.I love the concept of love and relationship but i cant just get those experience out of my head. I AM CONFUSED.I'm going to go to jail for what I did to my brother, and i am hoping he dosent remember.
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 Name Undisclosed130
by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)
when me and my autistic brother were little we would watch our mom get beat up by my father. He used to beat my brother , call him names and lock him in his room because he was autistic and not his son. He would used to bring home drugs of all kinds. I remember when I was about three years old my mom had to leave me and my brother alone with my father-because she had no choice- and he locked my brother in the bedroom and told me to go sit in the bathtub until he was ready to bathe me. he went to go do his drugs while i sat in the tub. When he came to bathe me he was really high. He sat in the bathroom and ran the water. I started to sing a song I heard my mom sing to me at bedtime every night, and he didn't like that so he descided to drown me in the bathtub pushing my head in the tub. My lungs filled with the water and I started to choke. My breathing cut off and thats when the front door opened and my mother came in the house with my Aunt C.
I am 17 years old today and I no longer live with my Father, my mom left him when I was 5 and I now live with my mom, brother and step father who is amazing... if it wern't for my mom and aunt walking into the house I would probably be dead right now so thank you.
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 Name Undisclosed131
by Name Undisclosed
(Indiana, USA)
When I was around the age of 8, my mom would always scream and slap my arms until I got bruises. This why only because when she was drunk, after the night who she became sober she did not remember it. This continued for a long time until my stepdad noticed and asked me what was wrong.
After a couple years of sobering up, my mom attended college which led her to start drinking again when I was around the age of 13. Around this age she was only still just screaming in my face if everything didn't go her way, giving me gifts to keep quiet from my stepdad. This continued until I was 15, she called me names like "wh**e" or "boy user"
Before she got caught drunk driving, she slammed my head into the car three times, left with cuts on my arms and me blacking out on the ground. Fianlly at 17, when my mom was doing drugs and drinking... My stepdad and I begged her for years to go to a rehab so she wouldn't get in anymore trouble. She was naked in her bed and was screaming at us to leave her alone, after sitting her up and letting her in the bathroom. I tried to get clothes on her but she slapped me several times and told me to go away, I would not go away. When she was dressed she screamed for my stepdad and I to, "please, shut her head off" My aunt came over and she ended up hitting my aunt in the arm, my aunt got her arrested for battery.
She is finally gone and I am living my teenage life as peacefully as possible.
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 Name Undisclosed132
by Name Undisclosed
(Location Unknown)
A mother's abuse of us:
I am in my 50's now, one of 5 siblings. Fortunately, when I left home to be married at 19 years old, I wrote her a letter explaining all of my feelings, anger, disrespect and the separation I was about to make from her for good! I had two siblings much younger still left at home with her at that time and she used my letter to show and turn it onto me. I recognize after all of these years that she is mentally ill to have imposed so much abuse, physical, sexual and emotional onto us all 5. The struggle I have had is the bible verse "...honor your father and mother". For my own mental health, piece of mind, relationship with God to be good and in order to raise my family I had to sever the ties that bind with her and my siblings. The disfunction that she had propigated throughout our lives was beyond repair and she to this day is old, but still maintains her innocent victim role and plays it well. Her mother, which is my only close relative my Grandmother at 95 still will not acknowledge her daughter's evil-disfunctional behavior and that continues to hurt me as old as I am. I just continue to love my Grandmother and provide for her as best that I can emotionally, physically and so on with love. The child abuse was so severe that my only brother suffered a nervous breakdown and subsequently has died. An example is that I wrote his obit and she has yet to acknowledge his passing. Any comments are appreciated from this forum on my learning to cope with this pain in my past. I do go to counseling and it does help ; however, the pain is ever present in my heart and mind. Love and light to us all as we grow and learn to live life to our fullest potential and make this world a better place for others we meet.
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 Name Undisclosed133
by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)
I'm 17 yrs old. I live at home with my mom and dad, a younger brother and an older sister. My dad has always been an alcoholic and I've been abused for as long as I remember... The earliest I remember is when my dad decided me and my sister needed to start taking showers.. We were 6 and 7 years old. He would take us into the smallest shower in the house and all three of us were in the shower... He would wash us spending the majority if the time around our pelvic areas... I only started showering by myself when I was 12. And I make sure that the door is locked and if possible for double assurance I open a drawer that can block the door.. Another time I remember I had been bullied at school one day and I had told my dad about it and he just laughed in my face. I had said that it wasn't funny and started crying.. He then hit me across the face.. I don't bruise easily, and I have strong bones... So nothing can be proven. I fear for my life every day. He's stabbed pop bottles when he can't control us and two years ago beat my cat to death... It's terrifying and I don't know what to do.
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 Name Undisclosed134
by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)
I was born in N.Y and had 9 brothers and sisters. My mom drank and did drugs and with each kid it got worse. I was secon to last and the youngest was very delayed. Our real dad locked us all of us including my mom in the closet. He would beat up my mom . She was allowed to only take us outside the house so we couldn't leave. Those famous amos cookies I remember eating them in the car . I was never given food to eat do it was rare that I got food. I hugged the package and I remember the sligt drool that caked my fingers. My mom looked into mirror and asked if she could have one . I still feel bad for saying no. She watched me eat the whole bag. She also was dating a pedophile and he molested the girls they say I wasn't molested but I had some messed up dreams. To this day I'm petrafied of 99% of all men . Also, foster care was called so many times. They never took us away. They didn't do anything aptitude neglect and said that the pedophile had to stay away. Finnally were pit in foster care and i had loving parents.
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 Name Undisclosed135
by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)
Guess i need to talk to some one simply because of the reason i'm writing this. I have read so my stories here but not many success stories but i feel the answers a lot of people have given has meant people have found the answers and moved on. my answer this summer holiday may make my life diificult but difficult does not mean i will have to be hurt any more. i dont want to be hurt and i dont want to constantly afraid. Thats why i am opting for donthideit. Thats sounds so much easier than coming out right.
Sam on childline is great
Giving him my real name right now
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.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.
Disclaimer: To the best of my knowledge the child abuse
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