Child Abuse Story From Brittany

by Brittany
(Tennessee, USA)

If you met me today you probably wouldn't notice anything different about me. I appear to be just like every other 16 year old girl.. But I'm not.

It all started when I was about 7. My biological father was taking me to school one morning while my 5 year old brother was home with our mother, sick. 'Daddy' reached his hand over to the passenger seat where I was and put his hand on my privates. I asked him what he was doing...
"It's okay baby, this is just something daddy needs to do" was my answer.
Being so young I just accepted it although it made me uncomfortable.
Nothing else happened for a couple weeks... then it got bad. My mom and brother were out shopping and I was home alone with HIM.

He called me into his and momma's bedroom and told me to lay on the bed. I did, afraid. He stripped me and began poking and prodding all over my body. Then he removed his pants and showed me his 'candy' as he called it.
He made me give him a blowjob.

It went on like this whenever we were alone until I was 10. I never knew what to do or say. I couldn't tell anybody. He said that if I told that I'd never get to see my mom or brothers again (I got another brother when I was 9).
I didn't want to lose my mom or brothers, they were the only people, other than my grandparents and best friend, that I truly cared about and I knew loved me.

Being young and feeling completely alone and afraid is terrible. One good thing came out of my past though... I'm going to do everything in my power to give other children the strength to speak up. I'm going to be a voice for those too frightened to speak. I plan to go and talk to children in schools, give them the courage to fight back.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Katrina

by Katrina
(Location Undisclosed)

It goes back to when I was a toddler. I do not remember much that had happened when I was younger, but thanks to my cousin I can share my story.

After my brother was born in 96 I had to take care of him. So by the time I was about three years old, my parents had drilled the 'snap and come here command.' You would think it was perfect for children who misbehaved. It was not. We would get come and we were spanked with a wooden soon until we cried out that we were sorry, pass out from the pain, broke the spoon, or until we were almost bleeding. Then we had to take a handful of soap and wash out our mouths with it.

As we got older we got more defensive, more aggressive in our defense. Though I mainly took all the physical and emotional damage for my brother. He was younger than me and I had to protect him. So I would be kept in my room for days on end and was not allowed to speak or even do anything. Just sit with my back to the door, and get slammed against the wall when I was let out. Yes, it was painful but I had to do it.

By the time I was a teen, my parents isolated me. They did not care about me. They only cared about my brother and his learning disorder. Wondering how he had gotten it; it was their fault. So when I had gotten into grade 8, so about 5/6 years ago, they forced me to study against my will. I spent so many days over my text books, just to make them happy.
But the real abuse came after my grandfather died in 2010. I was called so many names at his funeral. All because I did not cry; I was choking on air in my throat and they would not allow me to leave the funeral. I was 15.

At this point in time, the name calling, the degrading, everything had gotten worse. I forced myself to be an honor student in grade 10, all I wanted to do was make them proud. everything I did was not enough. By May of grade 10, my mother threatened to kill me and herself. She had gotten her medicine and was drinking from the time she had gotten up to the time she went to bed. My father was not home during that month. It was a terrible month. Before my birthday, my grandfather had taken advantage of me. He had gotten me to drink pop, which I am not allowed to have because I get 'drunk' and crash. He had stripped me of my bra, shirt, pants and almost my underwear. I could not fight him but luckily my father had came to pick me up and I was forced to dress. It was terrible I could not trust another man but one person. So one night I finally broke, I broke down and called a friend I knew at the beginning of the school year. My friend M---, who is now my boyfriend for just over a year and a half.

I cried and cried over the phone to him. He cheered me up; we talked from 7 pm to midnight. It was a huge relief to tell someone. He was also there when he convinced me to talk to a teacher. I told my music teacher since she was the last person in the school who was my teacher. She brought me to the councillor after I talked to her. The councillor said that we would talk again the next day. So for 2 weeks, I was constantly in and out of the councillor's office and the councillor who dealt with abuse victims. She was also a physciatrist who told me that I was an emotional and mental abuse victim. Then they had to phone CPS.

That must have been the worst time of my life. But also the happiest, M--- had asked me out and promised that we would protect me. CPS came to see me, then my brother who had grown away from me because I was what my parents wanted and he was not, then finally my parents.

The abuse got so much worse. I would travel to the south side almost everyday during the summer to get away from them. The name calling, degrading, the abuse everything; I had to see M---. The only thing that has not betrayed me. Everyday I would get home there was fighting between my parents and I, my parents, or my brother and them. It is a miracle that I lived through that summer, one year after my grandfathers death.

Grade 11 came, my teacher, Mrs. K, found out and told me that I was incredibly strong to come to school everyday and have a smile on my face. The first semester went by okay, there was no need to go see the councillor. Second semester; the toughest semester I had. I went day to day crying or shaking. In April, my mother was forced to go on medical leave. It was the worst thing a person could do to me. May went by my mother went off her medication yet again.

June came and I had promised my friends who were struggling in math that I would tutor them. The morning I promised that I would tutor them, I woke up and knew my mother was in a terrible mood. She was drunk and it was 8 am. I made my breakfast, sat down to eat, hoping that if I was quiet she wouldn't explode. She did. She yelled at me for no reason asking where I was going. I told her and she had told me it was no excuse, I told her calmly that I was tutoring some friends who needed help, she continues yelling at me, pushes out wooden table across the dining room into my chest, throws my breakfast at the wall and screams at me to pick it up. I start cleaning it up, then yells and swears at me at the top of her lungs. Wh**e, s**t, b***h, everything she could call me. I remember this day clearly because I was just a wreck.

Those kinds of days went on and off until I went to a music camp. I had injured my knee and I had to go home. The pain was too much and a slip of tongue caused another visit from CPS.
My father was extremely pissed off at me, and I finally told another adult. M---'s father.
He said that if anything like that would happen again and I was thrown out of my house, he would bring me into his house.

The summer went on with yelling and screaming and fighting. I went over to M---'s place more often. Then finally this past October, I told my parents that a foreign exchange student was leaving and she wanted all her new friends over for a sleep over, I went to M---'s place and told them everything
It's now January 2013, and my story has been partially told. There was so much more to this story. Like what happened last night and this morning. Though, I will leave it here. My name is Katrina, I am 17, and everything that has happened allowed me to become someone who my parents want and all my true self to hidden for my friends to see.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed140

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

One to many times: 
I don't want to write something long but here I go. I'm 16 years old and for all of my life I've been sexually abused. By my father by my step grandfather and as of last year I was dragged into a bathroom and fondled with by another student. When I was 12 I would cut myself and and starve myself. I've gotten a little better about everything. But I can't help but feel like its all my fault. I know it's common but everyday I struggle to stay focused and able to go on with my life. I don't think I'll ever be ohk. I don't think I'll ever settle and have a family because I don't think I'll ever be mentally stable enough to love others when I don't love myself. I have the worst self esteem and I can never speak out loud ever. I have panic attacks daily and it interferes with a lot of what I do. I over compensate to fill the void by keeping busy but it's hurting me. I'm always run down and tired and depressed. Most of the time I can't get out bed to do the things I'm obligated to making me feel like a failure. I'm truly my own enemy. Every time I cut it's not me but it's me. I can't function like this for much longer bc it's tiring. A person can only take so much. But I have to be strong. There's no choice. No crying. It shows a break in the soul it shows weakness. I haven't cried in years and I'm overdue. I don't know what to do anymore about anything everything is just not how it should be. Nothing is right.




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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed141

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

Still Afraid Cause No One Will Believe - Just Me: 
It has taken me years to tell my story like this, still afraid no one will be believe me. I was physically, verbally, emotionally and sexually abused by various people from childhood to adolescence. Always looking for love in all the wrong places, addicted to everything from alcohol, porn, bad relationships and emotional torture both from others but mostly from myself. Being male, it does not happen to us, we are strong, not expected to show emotion and certainly told to get over it or just deny it when we confide in authority figures. I told my story over and over again about parents, a babysitter, school figure head, priest, all took their turns to chip away at who I was, abusers in all forms. The excuse was always, I was bad, I was a difficult child, difficult teen, difficult adult, it was certainly my fault, I was to blame. Fact is, I was crying out, acting out, looking for help but nobody was really listening.

I fear sites like this, that claim to help, claim they make a difference, hoping they actually can help those still enduring the pain of child abuse, and ending it, ending their suffering. The abuse never goes away, you cope, you deal, you function and in order to survive you get help and try to come out as best an adult as you can. Fact is, we need to stop the abuse of anyone child, adult, male or female, anyone. We need to reflect on what humanity means and really help. I do not have all the answers, I fight my demons, sometimes hourly, sometimes daily, etc., etc., I just want to tell my story.

In summary, when a flash back comes to mind of someone telling you to just up an put it in your mouth and you can only remember being tall enough to see what no child should see or experience, when authority figures take advantage of your learned vulnerability continuing the cycle, you just give up.

Well, it is a struggle to this day, a little less tough then years gone by, but always a long road to go.

In the end, abuse no matter how small or large is forever, it forms a part of who we are but remember it is not all of who we are. We can survive, love each other but always remember it has changed our character for a lifetime. To those who want to abuse think once, twice, many, many, many times before you change a persons life forever, get help before you offend. To those who lives who have been changed forever, love yourself, be strong and never let anyone tell you it did not happen.

Signing off, thanks for listening......just me.




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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed142

by Ashamed
(Location Undisclosed)

It has disturbed my whole life: 
This is the first time I've ever spoken about this, I don't remember exactly the age but it was over a few occasions roughly between 10-12/13. I'm male btw, When I was young I was very sexually innocent, my cousin, a boy slightly older used to get us alone and encourage me to play games with him. At the start I wanted nothing to do with it but he convinced me through "games". We live far apart so it only happened when we met, it started as showing ourselves for dares, but progressed he kept pushing for more ... touching me and orally.. Initially I refused but was threatened with telling on me, I didn't know any different, but was sworn/threatened to secrecy. this continued when our families would occasionally meet I dont know how many times but a few. I thought it was "normal" but then it changed I was told by him it's wrong and we're not doing it anymore, ... I blanked this from my memory until late teens... and it messed my head up something serious which I compensated by getting out of my mind on drugs... I managed to put it out of my head for years again, well on and off, always deeply ashamed, I could never bring it up with someone who knows me for fear someone would find out.. It would destroy me, my family.. but I can link this to my silent suffering of depression on and off for the past years,suicidal tendencies, relationship problems as a result, sexuality issues and obscure notions even though I consider myself heterosexual...
I honestly don't know what to think, I dont know if this was abuse, I dont know if I enjoyed it after a while, I dont know what that means, what that makes me. I feel so ashamedly inhuman at times. What would someone think of me if they knew... It's easier to block it but, partially at least, it has destroyed a lot of my life.




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Child Abuse Story From Brenda

by Brenda
(British Columbia, Canada)

I am 46 years old. I was sexually abused by my stepfather from the time I was 4 until I was 15 years old. My brother was sexually abused over many years as well as many children of family friends.

In my late 20's one of the other victims (a young man) reported the abuse. My stepfather, my mother and my brother denied it up and down and indicated that this young man was doing it for money because he was fired from his employment (at my stepfathers company). When I found out I was surprised that nobody came and asked me for a statement. I then found out that my mother had told the RCMP that I was a drug addicted prostitute lost on the streets of some big city. This was not true. I was working as a paralegal for a law firm. When I found out that this young man's life was going to be destroyed I came forward as did another female victim who was a friend of mine. All in all there were 14 various charges laid against my stepfather.

What took the cake was my own mother and brother rose to the occasion, told everyone in the family I was a liar and was doing it only to ruin the family name and gain money. They basically ran me out of town. For two years my stepfather maintained his innocence until right before the trial where he plead guilty on lesser charges.

Now it is 20 years later and I am shunned by my family and still called a liar. I cannot set foot in my own hometown. The one or two relatives who sympathized with me still associate with the rest of the family and tell me they have to be "neutral". Meanwhile I have not seen my nieces grow up or get married. My mother and brother supported the pedophile who was in ill health and only got an ankle bracelet for a year. Funny, he lived for another 15 years bouncing children off his lap, etc.

This whole thing makes me sick. It is 20 years later and I am left without closure and feel as though no justice was served.




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Child Abuse Story From Cry-ra

by Cry-ra
(Indiana, USA)

Out of the three of us, I treat my mom the best; out of us three, she treats me the worst: 
I am 31 and the oldest of three. My mom started treating me badly right about the time I turned 16. It started out with small things: She would hunt me down at my friends' houses and tell their parents to send me home (so I could clean the house). This wasn't just your typical "enforcing rules and responsibility upon an adolescent." The messes in the house belonged to my mom and my pre-adolescent little brother. They wouldn't help clean, and the place would be just as trashed the very next day.

Then she started threatening on a regular basis to kick me out of the house. She'd get angry and hold her fist up in my face and act like she was going to hit me. It was when she was 16 that my dad, her first husband, started dating her and soon after, controlling her. I always felt like she was jealous that I was out running around like a normal teenager and she had missed out on that opportunity.

NOW, and for the last +/-10 years, she has been stepping it up. She has tried to break glass dishes over my head, has told me that she wished I was never born, and she wished I would have died of Leukemia at the age of 12 instead of recovering. My father is not in the picture at all, and it kills me that the only other parent I have is so mean and abusive. I fit all of the stereotypes: I am submissive to her, check in with her on a regular basis, forgive her quickly and treat her very well. She has threatened to kick me out of my house so many times that I laugh inside when she says it now. She continues to prey upon my weaknesses, and I somehow allow her, and this continues the control she has over me.

As I said, I am now 31, and I have never been married, or even engaged, and have no children. Part of the reason I've never been married, I believe, is because who would want to marry someone with a family like mine? Oh, did I mention that I have very low self-esteem? Also, I have contributed many years of my priceless adult youth to helping her out with the troubles which ail her. I have no children because she has pound it into my head what a burden and stressful responsibility it is to have children. It's constant selflessness and no freedom whatsoever. She has told me over and over what she would have done had she not gotten pregnant with me. In fact, she would have loved to become a botanist or a marine biologist or a conservation officer. She was just finishing business school and was about to divorce my father when she found out. She wasn't even able to drink alcohol on her 21st birthday because she had just found out about me. I guess too bad she didn't understand then what a burden I would be, she could have saved herself a lot of heartache and time had she just went ahead and drank herself to oblivion on her 21st. Maybe that would've killed me as a fetus. I mean, heck, then she wouldn't have to be looking at me 31 years later telling me about how she wished it hadn't happened. By the way, did I mention that I'm fat and have loads of irreparable issues? Counseling is a joke. I can't be honest with them because it would uproot all of my world. And the unknown is more frightening than her consistent abuse. I'm sorry that you all have to go through worse than what I'm experiencing. No one should have to endure this. Can't wait till God comes...




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Billie For My Son Cody

by Billie
(Texas, USA)

I am a parent of a child who has been mentally and physically abused by his own father,in which he lives with.My son has always thrown a fit when it is time for me to take him home,but one day of 2011 he really threw a fit ,he screamed and begged me not to take him back to his father,but i told him i had to with tears in my eyes,a little while latter we was on our way to his fathers and my son picked up a pen ,took it apart and put it to his throat and told me ,mom i going to kill myself if i go back there again i told him he has to or mamma will get in trouble for not taking him back.We got to his fathers home and i talked to his father and told him what Cody was trying to do and why he was trying to do it and his father said he is only trying to get attention,nothing is wrong with him,i told his father all he wants is a hug from him and for him to show that he loves Cody,i had to make his father give him a hug and tell Cody that he loved him,well i told my son bye ,gave him a big hug,a kiss,told him that i loved him and i left crying and worried what was going to happen to my son.That Monday i contacted cps and told them what my son tried to do ,told them his dad does drugs in front of him ect.It took about two weeks and i was contacted by cps and they said they talked to my son and he would not talk to them,i told them he wont talk to y'all because he is afraid if he says anything he will get in trouble by his father.The next time i got my son he told me he tried to kill him self again at his fathers girlfriends home in the shower,by hanging himself,where my son lives now,now let me tell this boy is only 8 and it started when he was about 6,after he told me that i called cps and told them,they still told me if Cody don't tell us we cant pull him out of the home.Present day,the cps still have not done anything and my son still don't want to be there,almost every time i get him he has a bruise or he is withdrawn,calls his dad names ,he knows that his dad uses drugs and what they are called and what they look like,the father now sense cps is involved is trying not to let me have my son for Christmas,so my son can open his presents.I am writing this so other children going threw or parents would see what many children go threw with the other parent,and to ,to really see the pain in my sons eyes every time he knows he has to go back to this man.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From WIll

by Will
(USA)

When Will I Learn: 
I'm sitting here tonight most disappointed in myself. My mother, dad, and grandparents raped me starting at a very early age, even before school age. I've buried much of the trauma somewhere within me. It's only been within the last few years these horrific events visit me in my sleep. When my dad raped me I went to mother for help. She told me 'you're a whore'. Mother molest me, handled my body like she owned it. Today at the age of forty-eight I still want her to treat me with a pure love. She hasn't changed. She's not molesting me anymore but her mind is still perverted. When will I learn? When will I accept that my mother has unhealthy and ill intentions towards me. I was cutting her hair recently and she implied to me that the shorts I had on were tempting. It came out of nowhere. I actually thought we were having a pleasant moment and all the time she was focused on my bare legs and thighs.It was the same lustful voice and spirit my granny had when she tried to touch me between my legs as she asked me for sex. Tonight I'm hurting because I keep giving my mother the chance to hurt me. Her words of implications that I'm tempting men with my clothes are the same when she told me I was the reason my dad raped me.My sister told me to hit her if she tries to touch me sexually. I hate that my mother did this to me. I hate that she hasn't changed. I have a hard time connecting to my body. I have for as long as I know. I'm still fighting to be accounted for and determined that I will be able to enjoy my body fully one day....When will I learn that I have to let go of my mother who is bent on holding onto dysfunctional and wrong desires for me. I have to let her go completely, not holding onto any of her. Sometimes it feels like I'm not even in my body. Sometimes I think who would believe? I haven't even told of everything that they did. It's so much, who would believe me? I've tried to share some of it but it gets to the point that it seems the story goes on and on with every flash and my mother still being the same. My mother's life is not my life, not my responsibility. This needs to marinate within every thought concerning her. She doesn't love me and she isn't capable of loving me. My mother never wanted me because she conceived me from a man outside her marriage. I was a mistake, a failure, a nothing to her. Her thoughts about me are just that. But I'm not a mistake and I didn't make her husband rape me nor did I tempt her and her mother and grandmother to rape me. My body is not the reason she's the way she is, that's her choice and has nothing to do with me..When will I learn? Tonight I'm learning as I share this with you. I'm learning that my heart is not selfish. I'm learning that it's nothing wrong with looking for the good in someone even in the worst situation. I'm learning that when it's time to let go, let go, even if it's someone you love like your own mother. I'm learning that none of it was my fault and even now as I heal I can give myself room to grow into the strong woman that I am and will be...Yeah, when will I learn? I say at this moment I'm learning and it's because you have given me this space to find my way..Thank you for this blog..God bless you...Will




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Child Abuse Story From Lorelei For My Daughter

by Lorelei
(New York, USA)

Child Sex Abuse: 
My daughter just emailed me and told me that she is just coming to accept her status as a survivor. She was sexually abused when she was very young and never told anyone. This was all she wrote in her email. That, and how it is very difficult for her to share her thoughts with anyone but she is slowly learning to because she wants to heal. She is twenty now. I had no idea any of this happened when she was a child. I, too, am a survivor of child sex abuse, but when I confronted my parents with it as an adult, I was denied the love and support I needed. I was the object of victim-blaming. I don't know how to help my daughter through this.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Ky

by Kylie
(Indiana, USA)

Im 18 years old. I would like to believe that i lived the american dream growing up.. but when I turned 13 years old.. everything changed. My mother was cheating on my father. I also found out on my own that my dad wasnt my real dad he adopted me when i was four. I found that out all by myself. So they ended up getting a divorce.I was taking care of my little infant brother at the age of 13.pills and stupid things. We were always moving place to place moving in with guys that she just met the night before. She tried selling my body for money for a car. Ive tried killing myself over this so many times.. i try to get over it.. but someway she also finds a way back to my life..

& now after moving out and trying to get over this.. shes dying of cancer.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Paul

by Paul
(Location Unknown)

School Reunion: 
Me and my brothers, never told my brothers because i just thought this is the norm and we dont tell. I was 21 attending a school reunion when my brother punched my old physics teacher in the face. Think it had something to do that i was physically sick in front of him when i saw him, plus i scream like a banshee. For brother to punch him though, think my brother knows a lot more about him.




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Child Abuse Story From TZ

by TZ - Pat
(New Mexico, USA)

My mother suffered years of Verbal Abuse by my controlling father., Growing up in an abusive home I felt they cared less for me as a person I never knew what my day would bring, Would they be Angry? Love or Hate me FEAR was part of my daily life, as a child I was labeled w/mild retardation or slow, taken to several therapists for psychological evaluation, I heard the doctors tell my parents there is nothing wrong w/me.

I have a violient & verbally abusive brother who sexually abused 2 of my sisters & I. My abuse started at 10yrs old until I was 23, when I moved out of my parents home. I also found out years later he assaulted seveal family friends. I had another brother who jumped into my bed as soon as the lights were out & everyone asleep, this went on for almost a yr. I was 13, when I finally told my mother hoping I would get her support, instead I was Blamed for the abuse & her mysery.

By 19, I was fed up, I just wanted to get old & die or end it altogether my worthless life ment nothing.

Today, I am 56 alone, & suffer w/High Anxiety & Depression, I have few friends my 2 children have no RESPECT for me, One is Angry to the other I am a monster. I have grandkids I donot see, I get no christmas gifts, flowers or kind words from family, ( tho, these occasions are rare! ).
My biggest wish was to see my parents Happy, my work has just begun, everyday is a struggle thru the grace of god we get thru another.. Our Family Life is coming Together.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Laney

by Laney
(Location Undisclosed)

Why Momma? How could you hurt your own daughter so much? I need answers! 
I want to tell my mom what I feel and I don't want her to make excuses.... I was born and taken away to live with foster parents till I was 3 then supposedly my mom got better and got me back at 3 till I was taken away again at 12. During those 9 years I experienced the most pain I could ever imagine that still haunts me today at 32. I have held it all in so many years going through foster homes and psyhiatric hospitals that said I was just a hopeless case well little did they know I'd be sitting here with a college degree 2 beautiful children that have never been harmed. Yes, still going through therapy well actually I'm just starting as of a year ago. I had to stop therapy at 18 because I was acting out so bad that talking was more harmful than good for me at the time. I had to block away for 12 years but unfortunally here I am today having to deal with the razor pain in my heart each and every day. I hurt so bad and the only thing that keeps me alive is imagining some imaginary mom saving me from my closet.

Momma if I had a chance to talk to you here it would be from a child's eyes the child I still feel inside hurting!!!

Momma u were suppose to come get me from the closest and reach out to grab my hand you were suppose to come grab me and hold me in ur arms and take me away from papa. I hate you for coming drag me by my feet down to the bathroom to wash me up and give me to him!! I'm sorry I wasn't the best daughter, I'm sorry I pee peed in my pants for so many years I don't know why I did that.... I tried hard not to but it just happened... I know papa got mad at you for letting me do that till I was like 8 but I think something was wrong with me cuz I couldn't control it... I was scared momma and I loved you why couldn't u love me like a daughter? Why did u hate me so much? Was I really for ur daddy? Do u blame me for living? why didn't u kill me before I was born? Did u want me to suffer for hurting you? momma I searched for ur love for so many yrs and I'm still searching but I can never find the love I needed from u so bad:( if u hated me so much why didn't u let that lady adopt me? Why did u punish me for papas sins?? I dream of my mom holding me every night that I cry myself to sleep I wish I could have layed on ur chest till I fell asleep... I didn't want to have sex with you momma I hated when you touched me and it hurt so bad!! I tried everything I could so u could love me.... I listened to u I had sex with you I made good grades I never told anyone about our family game tunnels and trains but u still hated me:(( I just need to know what were u thinking?? Please I just need to know you loved me:(( I'm empty inside since I was a little girl and no matter who I try to get to fill that space it's never enough!! Momma you make me sick sometimes when I think about what you made me do.... How could u have made me do those things? Gosh it hurts so bad!! Just please tell me you really didn't know any better... I want to forgive you but I need the pain gone 1st... I wonder momma did u make me gay? Am I gay? What is really gay? Is it just liking women? Cuz I do love women but how do I love them? I sure don't want to do what u made me do with them. momma remember that time you tied me to the ironing board cuz you thought I was having sex with papa without you.... Well truth was momma he was having sex with me alot of times when u weren't there.... I didn't ask for it momma.... You weren't there when I got home from school and I don't know why you weren't but it doesn't matter cuz you didn't come home and save me anyway!! You tied me down with that stupid yellow rope!! You hurt me!! ALOT!! And I hate you for it!!! God may never be with me momma but I don't care cuz I still wish you were dead!!! Momma if I ever forgave you could you let my heart free at least?? I'm afraid I will die of heartache if you don't let me go!! I don't really know if you were really schizophic mom like they said you were but you made it worse with your drugs and you had the same choices I did. I know you were hurting because your dad abused you too as a child but you needed to be strong enough to protect me momma. How could you take away my innocence the way you did? You used me to get your drugs from men how can a mom just hand over her daughter to have sex with such disgusting men. They stank and they were rough with me sometimes. It was scary and I couldn't always drift away like I wanted to momma because you came get me out the bed too soon and I couldn't hear you coming. I tried to stay up as long as I could the nights I knew you were going out and was going to bring back some men to have sex with me for your drugs but sometimes I was just to tired. Momma will you ever truly understand what you did to my heart or you really just so sick that you can never comprehend the pain I feel? I just wanted a momma why was this too much to ask for?? Gosh my heart feels like it's bleeding everyday! I cut and cut but I can never release enough blood to rid the pain. God please help me you may be all I have left to guide me now.




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Child Abuse Story From Charlene

by Charlene
(Chicago, Illinois, USA)

A woman who never did wanted me taken me home to a complete hell hole. She didn’t have no love for me at all. If somebody keeps asking you about a ‘Life Insurance Policy’, what do you think? They are getting at and they keep asking you that question. Do you got any life insurance, but they did asked me that question and the person who always asked you that question and this is a person who always had a serious conflict or personal vendetta against you and you do know that you didn’t do nothing to that person. You had a lot of trouble with the family members and they never even liked you at all and when I had my children also,the same person did asked if I had a life insurance policy for my children too. And years later one of my children, have been criminally man handled; those family people already have been after my son A-- and my son didn’t do a damn thing to no one in this family, all those family people did was make me and my children’s lives a pure living hell, the people in this family terrorized me and the family people did threatened and terrorize my children and they never did want me with my own children and there was not a damn thing wrong with me and why did something have to be wrong with me any way,and why was it me any way? That is a war that was declared on me for several years for nothing, it is that FACT that I was not wanted at all.

My son mysteriously gotten away from a nursing home, and he was badly abused and criminally manhandled, he was not eating or drinking at all. His life was in danger he was on a life support machine and he was in diapers just like a baby. My son could not eat, he could not talk and he could not even walk and he could not even write his own name and I really wonder do anybody have a guardianship over me right behind my back, and the person won’t tell me, they are treating me and my kids like an animal, and I really do wonder do anybody have a guardianship on my children and behind my back and they are doing that on purpose and it is very wrong and deliberately, did somebody marry me off behind my back just to get the money they are very wrong for doing me like that and then they all did laugh at me. and they did that to my children too. they are all very wrong for that. Every time I tried to move on with my own life and move forward, something suddenly do go very wrong with everything that I did try to do for myself and the family people did treat me like an outcast and an outsider and those family people are extremely hostile and they are really very cruel and are very hostile towards me and my children.

SUPERSTITIOUS BLACK FAMILY PEOPLE ATTACKED ME FOR NOTHING

I still have not forgotten in the summer of 1971, I was a very decent young lady a 15 year old child, while we were visiting a relative the grandmother on the mother side of the family C-- ask me Charlene are you going to bend over and let somebody get it so you can have a baby that look just like you, somethng about that made me feel very uneasy; and 13 months later on September 16-1972 someone tried to sexually assault me while I was on my way going to high school and this was in the broad daylight about 10 am in the morning time. I was force to keep going to the same high school on the south side of Chicago. Sister M--- did not do nothing when all them kids at that was picking on me for nothing and some of them kids were trying to trip me down and some of them tried to push me down the stairs at that Chicago public high school and I could not walk the halls without some students laughing and snickering saying there she go is that your sister, at the time nobody did not tell me N-- was my guardian there was not nothing wrong with me because I had Albinism I just was not wanted and I did not fit in their family that is what that was and they all did talk about me right behind my back and I was born and innocent baby like all other babies who are born innocent and what the grown ups do that is between them. I really do wish they kept me out of it altogether.




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Child Abuse Story From Charlene Part 2

by Charlene
(Chicago, Illinois, USA)

People Really Need To Understand That Child Abuse Do Happen To Innocent Children: 
We were at our grandmother’s home on the mother side of the family and I asked her for a glass of milk and she put an object it was a feen-o-ment pill in it and I looked under the glass and it was there, I told her I’m not going to drink that stuff, Now what if I had dranked that tanted milk, used the bathroom on myself in N--’s car because of what C--’s mother done, N-- would have killed me because of what somebody else did to me, I WAS NOT SAFE IN THIS FAMILY, I gave that crap back to her; I am so glad I gave it back to the grandmother, T-- tried to force sour kool aid that was unsweetened down my throat,he threatened to whoop me with a belt I told him if he don’t leave me alone I was going to tell N-- and M-- on him. they spat in my face, they spat in my hair, they forced me to dye my hair brown and they forced me to wear brown wigs for several years, I was not going to dye my hair black because I wanted to be myself and then one day I used COPPER TONE TAN product on my skin trying to fit this damn cursed family and THIS FAMILY STILL REJECTS ME AND THEY WILL NEVER LEAVE ME ALONE AND THEY WILL NOT BACK OFF AT ALL AND THIS FAMILY WILL NEVER LEAVE MY CHILDREN ALONE AT ALL AND THEM PEOPLE IN THIS FAMILY WILL NEVER BACK OFF BOTH OF MY CHILDREN AND THEY NEVER WANTED NONE OF MY CHILDREN IN THIS FAMILY FROM THE DAY I HAD MY KID THEY JUST SIMPLY DON’T WANT ME AND MY KIDS IN THIS DAMN FAMILY AT ALL AND HIDE BEHIND THE CHURCH.
I gotten hurt being played with like a toy and an object and they always did treated me like I AM AN ALBINO COCKROACH AND A WHITE RAT and they treated my children like they are COCKROACHES AND RATS TOO and CP she really always did hate my gut as if I did something to her no I did not do a damn thing to her at all. and she got a set up on me she hates me really just that much and I really do wish she didn’t invite me in her house like that she soaked the chicken and the potatoes in an enormous amount of salt,CP did that on purpose I did not eat that s**t it was poison. and several years later.before I left the hospital with my newborn babies somebody swiched breakfast food on me at the hospital, I ordered regular food but they switched the food to oatmeal on me and I did not order no oatmeal and something was put in the oatmeal I did not eat that I thought something may be wrong with the oatmeal;. somebody in this family didn’t want me with my babies at all.




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Child Abuse Story From Charlene Part 3

by Charlene
(Chicago, Illinois, USA)

When I was a small child I someone should have been on my side and protected me and several years of no family support because I was an abused an unwanted child and all the abuses my children experienced,people always ignored me and all the man handling abuses I been put through,not one person bothered to help protect me and all the vicious and criminal man handling to my son,nearly killing him, no body did not go to prison for nearly killing for nothing he did not do and they disabled him much further and nobody did not even get question and all the family people did get away with all the criminal abuses they did to my son and nobody did not bother to try to help me get no kind of justice for him at all and my family and I did get injured for being taken to the wrong kind of family,that is not my fault.




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Child Abuse Story From Charlene Part 4

by Charlene
(Illinois USA)

I DON'T APPRECIAT THEM PEOPLE ROBBING ME OF MY DIGNITY MY WORST NIGHTMARE I SUFFERED FOR DECADES GROWING UP, I AM AT A LOST
The worst night mares that I had in my life was being sabotaged by family members starting from the parents who denied me since the day I was born and I gotten hurt by a number of surprised, extreme hatred and too much fright and the villainous and bias hate crimes that was done to me for several years to the point to where the so called mother and father deliberately brain washed me and they both misled me from the very start and the mother, they pulled me out of school from my kindergarten class and I was shift off and I found myself on my need all bend over while a male was on me behind me and that was very inappropriate touching and that happened in the grandmother’s home and this happened when I was taken out of my kindergarten class room and I never got to complete kindergarten at all. and I was kept out of school until I returned back to school at age 7.5 years old and I had to start all over again and I was nearly 3 years behind in grade school and I got picked on and bullied in grade school and high school they set me up for nothing I did not even do to none of them people at all. I was taken to where people did drink and gotten drunk and leaving kids behind that was very wrong and very dangerous because I was taken to where I was used by the adults all my whole entire life and they made me a family,and a people scapegoat too. They controlled my life, and they RESTRICTED MY PERSONAL FREEDOM AND THE FAMILY PEOPLE DID FOLLOW ME EVERYWHERE I MOVED TO RIGHT BEHIND MY BACK FOR SEVERAL YEARS AND NOW TO THE PRESENT DECADES AND YES I’M TALKING THIS YEAR 2013 AND I DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY TO RETIRE ON. I was hurt by the offense and several life threatening situations and the gossip and the ambush, and entrapment that was not nice the way they treated me like an outcast and an outsider. ALL THE PEOPLE IN THIS FAMILY DO NOT LIKE PEOPLE WITH ALBINISM. THE PEOPLE IN THIS DAMN FAMILY DO GOT SOMETHING AGAINST PEOPLE WITH ALBINISM, PLEASE PEOPLE DO BE AWARE OF THIS, THAT IS VERY DANGEROUS AND IT IS VERY CRIMINAL AND VERY WRONG TO TREAT ANY PEOPLE LIKE THAT.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Charlene Part5

by Charlene T
(Chicago, Illinois)

I do not want to sit and feel sorry for myself what i am trying to say is i was born different and the family people who may not be my biological family, this is what i am trying to explain, i was always an unwanted child with albinism and who is not welcomed in this black family and i am a women of color you see i did not fit in this family is some of her relatives told me that they do not have anyone in their family with albinism, and some of her relatives did tell me that albinism just happens,but outside professionals did tell me albinism is an inherit genetic condition, and i could never handle this type of family, this family do not have no kind of respect for me not at all, they just walk all over me, and every time i try to look for help i can not find anyone who want to listen to me.
The family people did set me up for this on purpose and they did sacrifice me criminally because the women always blamed me for her husband cheating on her with the mistress, she always did fought me for what was really wrong with her marriage, she even blamed me for not communicating with her husband who was very hateful towards me, i had a right to stay away from that man, it was not left up to me to get close to a man who always denied me, he didn't have no love for me because i was not nothing to him, the women she didn't have no love for me either and i do look very different from the rest of the family, people on the so called mother side of the family told me albinism do not run in their family, and in 2010 the women did tell me she was talking to a friend of hers and the so called mother did tell me that her friend to her that he could have left you, she was talking about the man who denied that i was his baby and for decades the whole family have been targeting me and they used me too, they used my kids too. They are the same people who tried to take my children away from me even by using child protection services these are the same people who hated me for several years the are the same family peope who hate people with albinism i know because i have albinism, and people here in chicago, il don't listen to me here at all.




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Child Abuse Story From Kelly6 Part 2

by Kelly
(Location Undisclosed)

About a year back, I had written up of my physical and emotion abuse from both my parents. Now a year later, I'm not sure if things have gotten any better. Reading other abuse stories, I felt so selfish for thinking my past wasn't great. My friend had a horrible childhood and wishes she could be in a better family. Anyway, I'll give an update.

For other people suffering out there, do you ever have a date seared into your head from a specific nightmare abuse event? Well, I remember mine. December 6, 2011. Around 7:00pm. I didn't share this before, so here it goes. I had done something and my dad "spanked" me with a belt several times, I had to pull down my pants too. I remember vividly I was depressed and at that time didn't fully understand the suicidal thoughts weaving in and out of my mind. Anyway, I don't remember what I did, but I got punished.
Later that night, I weirdly (I must have been a different person, it seemed I was drunk or something) wrote a suicidal note on my calendar. It was horrible. My mom somehow saw it and started screaming at my face. Not in a concerned, 'Oh my god!' way. A twisted, evil way. She claimed I was rebellious and very, very selfish for wanting to end my life. She said I was her child and could never do such a thing. She aroused my dad, who just barged into my room without asking what had happened.

It still is a burning memory in my mind, sort of blurry with all the abuse, but forever there.

He just kept hitting me and hitting me with his belt yelling in my face that I was selfish and should never ever commit suicide, because I apparently wanted to make them sad on purpose! Now I feel like my parents should've sat down with me and tried to help me from my depression, not make it worse.

With welts and bruises all over my legs, I cried in my bed, almost panicking that he would come back since there was fighting downstairs. I wanted to leave. Though on the 3rd story, the top level of our house, I tied my bed sheets together and made a rope that I had hung out from my window. I wanted to run away. Packing several things, I then shoved many pieces of furniture against the door, so nobody could get in. I'm glad I didn't climb out the window, because the blankets probably wouldn't hold me. Not that I cared at the time. Anyway, I was almost out the window into the open air when I heard a rough pounding at my door. Thousands of thoughts and feelings flashed through my mind, and knowing I couldn't climb down fast enough without being noticed, I removed all the furniture and tentatively opened the door to face my dad who noticed the blankets near the open window.

However, I was lucky that he thought my window was just open for air. He knew what the furniture was about, and yelled at me to clean up my room. I eventually did after he left, but before falling into a restless sleep, I had forgotten to shut my window and my dad came in again and noticed. He asked me why it was open and I tried explaining. I really tried to make up something, but it didn't work. My blurry thoughts came together and I just said calmly, "Because it is." I don't know why I was that shady, but somehow the words escaped my mouth and my dad's voice growled for me to get another 'punishment' in his room. He hit me again with his metal designed belt, though I was smart enough to layer a ton of clothes on my body so it would act like a protective cushion.

Anyway, I don't really know why I'm sharing this horrible memory, but it was one of the worst, though I was abused in many other situations. My mother, though, would never defend me and often called me names and swears at my face still. She sometimes slaps me or threatens to when she blows her top, but I'm used to the verbal abuse from her.
I am doing better now though. :)
My dad took a job out of state and only comes back home on some weekends.
I don't hate my parents, but I just can't love them either for what they did to me.
I got some help for my depression and am slowly, very slowly recovering.
After that incident I shared, I struggled with obsessive exercise and counting calories.
My body is still adjusting to the dramatic weight fluctuation, but my mind isn't.
Somedays I binge, and others I just force food to leave my mind.

For those out there who have been abused and struggle in mental distress, please get help and I wish a better life for you. Tell a friend, call child help, etc. Don't let this life slip out of your hands - if you hold on there will be light at the end of tunnel. There always is.
You just have to keep your faith, and though this life your living now is literally hell, ending it is not a solution.

Just think that later you'll be a survivor and can help other kids, teens, and adults in the same situations that they are worth it.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Caroline

by Caroline
(UK)

I know emotional/verbal abuse not such a big deal: 
But it hurt more than the sexual fondling I experienced from people outside my family did. It hurt me but emotional/verbal abuse isnconsidered a big deal. I was often yelled at for making mistakes and called names as well as threatened with violence and invalidated. Didn't happen all the time though.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Danielle

by Danielle
(Ontario, Canada)

I'm Sticking Around: 
I am trying to get the courage to move away from my mom but every time I try to leave she guilt trips me to stay. My parents divorced when I was in grade 1 because my dad got sick of my mom abusing him. My sister suffered abuse from being screamed at for hours for no reason to glass cups being thrown at her. She moved away when she turned 13 to my dad's house.

My mom sadly has favoritism over her 3 kids. My sister, me, and my brother. She liked me because she thought I would never speak up. My mom will only target 1 person and she doesn't care if she's in public or not. So when my sister moved away my mom turned her eyes on me who was not used to it at the time. I had to live with her suddenly screaming at me for hours for reasons like a not so good sweeping job. She would pull my hair so hard that I swear my head has gone numb and push me, shake me, slap me etc.

I was bullied at school as well they would do rumors and stuff like that. They loved beating me up. When I turned 10 I attempted suicide because it all became to much. I remember one time when my mom screamed at me because she saw a bruise on my leg. She shook me and I don't know if she dropped me or threw me but I remember falling and screaming. She told me to shut up and pulled me by my hair into my room and locked the door.

The reason why I can get guilt tripped is because she likes to play with my heart. She will be nice and take me to a movie or hang out with me and the next day she'll be slapping me because I liked something she didn't like.

When I was in grade 7 I started fighting back. Now I'm 15, my mom hates me more because I started talking back but I don't get bullied.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Karon Part 1

by Karon
(Illinois, USA)

It started at the age of 5yr old, shortly after moving into what would soon be our brand new home, as my sister and I would go outside during the summer time to watch our house which at the time was being built from ground up which was "what supposed to been" a gift to our parents from our mom's dad. my sister and I was very excited about moving and couldnt waite while also waiting for the soon arrival of our baby brother to be born, soon enought the house was complete, we finally moved in which didnt take long, considering we only moved 2 doors down from the 2 a flat where we currently lived prior to moving.

As I remember the house was a tri level house all white 3/ half large bedrooms which included an
den/office that our dad used for bussiness,large walk,crawl and even sleep closet space, the attic was big enough to live or store and so was the basement,with an addition to the other rooms and 1 large bathroom, all the joy in the world now my sister and I could play hide and seek we had new bunkies and had our own large front and back sundeck/porch and yard.

Our parents loved us dearly but I was daddy little girl, he took me almost where ever he went
that I wanted to go except for work probally would have gone if I could have, our dad used to come home from a long day of work and after getting settled would sit in his favorite chair on the back porch and drink what we later learned was beer.

Well this particular day as usual dad my sat me on his lap and did something he's never done before, he spreaded my legs in a V position accross from his rubbing my legs like he always did but this time his hands crawled into my panties causing me snatch my legs closed with an
ouch and was sent in the house, as came in threw the back door I could see my mom sitting on her bed being they had the room near the kitchen, so I stopped and told my mom what had just happenend
with my dad comming in soon after I did my mom called me back to her room and address my dad, he told her "my mom" I was lying so I got in trouble and was than sent to bed and that was that, so at
least I thought, but from that day foward to little to know this would be the cause to change to rest of my life.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Karon Part 2

by Karon
(Illinois, USA)

laid my little fragile body down on his plum color single sofa with

a foot rest told me not to make a sound as removed my bottoms and

forced him self in side of me with no care in the world forcing me

to stop crying by placing his hand over my mouth telling me to shut

up and than placed a pillow over my face, I remember him telling me

to go wash my face and feared me never say a word and, while trying

to use the bathroom but I bleed and it burned to bad to tinkle, I

went into my room that night but he made me and my sister with our

little baby brother and mom sit in to watch a scarey movie as a

family as he did on a regular basis in the dark which eventually I

grew acustome to as i got older as well as my sister.Needless to

say, by the time my little brother was 6years old my dad was still

having sex with me it went from his office, to the bathroom bending

me over the tub, to my bedroom and sometime's in the front room on

the floor right next to the couch where my often took a nap,"today

she still say she didnt know" and than down to the basement where

he had it set up for hardware work, gun collection area he'd

cleaned on a dailey basis and an entertainment area as well. By the

time I was 12 I become used to what my dad was doing to me so I

would prepare my self by closing my eyes balling up my tose and

hands and zone out by thinking about what my mom was doing at work,

or going out side to play " which I was limited to" and watching

cartoons which I loved to do, untill it was over, I soon become num

to the pain, But sometime my zoning out just didnt work for me

because I was tired of him having sex with me, One day I was

sitting on the couch watching an oprah show about kids being abused

with violent act being done and there was a little white girl who

was telling a story just like mine accompanied with her mom saying

she didnt know her husband was abusing her daughter, that day I

learned what was happening to me and that my dad was not just

having sex with me but I was and become a victim of being moslested

which was not an normal act.I had problems in school,well this

particular dad my dad was jumping on my mom, at one point he

knocked her unconscious as watch what seemed her lifeless body hit

fall to her bed room floor I top towed out the front door

downstairs told the lady my dad rented to 1st floor of our house

to, she let me use her phone to call the police, when they arrived I

told them my dad and mom was fighting, but when they arrived I also

told them my dad was having sex with me, and what did I do that

for, So they made my dad call my mom to the door to tell them

everything was okay and we all was fine and I was lying because I

couldnt stay up, something like that, and the police told me If I

dont listen to my parents that you take me away to and oddie home,

I was made to go back upstairs.My dad grab my hand bending back

untill I fell to the floor with a gun to my face threatening to

take my like if I ever call the police again, from that day I never

spoke another word until almost 3 years later as I was still being

molested, now being almost 15 I was taken out of my bed room as

usual my sister I notice was awake I quickly whispered her name and

ask to wake up mom saying daddy finna have sex with me, my dad

cought her and threaten to woop her and ask her whats wrong with

her and told her she was just jealous because of what he was doing

to me and not to her




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Karon Part 3

by Karon
(Illinois, USA)

later that night my dad was molesting me,

soon there was a knock on the office door, it was my mom she called

his name with such an aggressive voice that I have never heard from

her before, asking where is Karon "me" he jumped up and grab me

opened the door and pushed me out of his office nude into my mom,

she told me dont move so I stood there naked, she asked him where

are my clothes and he threw them out onto the floor, it seemed

like to storm he entered into our home that night, she put him out

we later found out that she just drove to his mistress lover house,

yes he was also having an affair, finally he had been cought and I

thought to my self it's now over finally, as I said "So I thought"

well things were quite for about a week or 2 he would come by to

visit,until he discoverd he gained my mom trust again and promised

to never touch me again so she took his word and he shortly moved

back in the house, sadly it started over again, by this time my

little brother was 7 or maybe 8 years old, I was still 15 and

become pregnant, let me back up a little, we had a family mechanic

that would fix every one car including ours, he seemed to have

taken a liking to seeing me on the back porch all the time, and sent

a letter to me from his brother that he wanted me to be his

girlfriend "May he rest in peace he passed 2012" But one day my dad

was not home and we had sex that was the 1st time I was touch by

and outsider, well I was still being molested later than discovered

that I was pregnant, didnt know if it was my dad or the mechanic he

molested me up untill I was almost at a 7month term. My daughter

was born 6/18/85 now 27 married to her 1st love and best friend

from 5th a wonderful mom to my grandchildren's boy and girl 8 and 7

years old,and an awsome husband, "To God be the glory!"But things

were never the same from that point on in our family, I was not

allowed as much as my sister and brother to go out and play, and

when I asked he would tell me If i want to go out side I have to

come into his office or the basement so I chose to stay in, so as a

result he molested me anyway, soon after my daughter was a little

over 4 months I was now 16 my mom dad was sick and moved in after

having a stroke, well he was not that sick but after his recovery,

he later decieded to make his was in my room now that I was placed

in my own room with my daugher, and he also began molesting me, So

it went back and forth from my dad to my grandfather, I never told

my mom because she wouldnt have listened or done anything anyway so

it didnt matter, I was officially num to any pain that came my way

by closing my eyes squeezing my toes and hands tightly closed

escaping the moment mentally into a peaceful world of my own once

it was over afterwards I would scrub my body with hot waster and

sos pads and sometime to feel clean up 3 to 4 times a day in which

out of habit I still do today. well my grandpa died a year later,

Sad to say but I was so happy and never thought or felt anyother

was about his death, my dad I tried to get his gun from under his

matress to kill him, But I was never able to get it "honestly I

think he knew my intention to kill him" after my mom dad died the

house it started literally started falling apart.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Karon Part 4

by Karon
(Illinois, USA)

our parents filed divorce, he was no longer living there, we moved from the house that we used to watch being built with our mom best

friend, untill we found a place of our own, but now I often would go back to that house where it all started to watch the city now tear it down until there was nothing left but a big lot and dirt, now almost 17

my dad flipped flopped back and forth from our mom to his mistress by that

time I was drinking, and at night my dad once again would take into

the bathroom to have sex with me as often as he came over spend the

nights, I eventually discovered that I was to affraid to kill him

whenever he came near me all I saw was black and his eyes were

firery red so I became suicidal to escape to abuse, But God always

spared me from my suicidal attempts to return home from the

hospitial. I had 2 other children another girl who is now 23 and a

wonderful mom to my 7month old grandaugher doing well and her

brother 24 who currently live still with his dad/wife. I eventually

lived a silent reckless life everyone in the family knew what was

happening to me cared not to get involed due to family repuation,

before I turned 17 my mom was dating this guy who eventually moved

in and would drink and always played under my shirt, I told my mom

and he told her he thought I was her, and told her I had to leave

or he would leave her, to I was asked to move at 16, so my daughter

and lived with a friend family member from school, after 6-7 months

I was told I can come back home now had my first Job after

completing 8th grade by 17 I moved out of my mom into my own my

sister and dad came by eventually he came alone sexulting asulting

me 3 time there but I never spoke another word about and was taken

be fear to even fight,I later met a guy that came from a christian

family he didnt have children and adopted my girls which at the

time was 2 in a half and 4 months old, we married at the age 18

"which are now divored a little over 3 years today but, the best of

buddies" and moved into another apartment, the last time my dad

ever touched me I was 19 years old with 2 other children with was

my husband another girl who's now 21 and a proud mom to my 4 month

old grandson and son 22 who's going threw trying times no kids but

well. Well my life was never the same as any normal person I knew,

I was over protective stay home mom and wife and worked around the

the time of there school hours trying to gain control of my life,So

much transpired for the next several years of my life, I soon

bacame a christian at 20 with severe trama with mental and

emontional issues still trying to gain control of my life. Thanks

to meeting my ex after the last time at 19 one day my dad stood toe

to toe with my ex and never laid another hand on me or came near my

door step.I was in for a long hall start for change and healing and

reovery. 2013 I have no contact with my dad by choice and he's

currently married to his than mistress, my mom and I are okay and

she's also remarried and seemed to have blocked everything out. my

sisters and which our parents hand there last child together

another girl she is now later 20's and married, they all are well

with families of there own. for me I have recovered, I have my

day's but not mere like it used to be. Im truely an overcomer and

suvior of abuse. other than the memory of what went going on.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Emi

by Emi
(Texas, USA)

The first time I was abused I was 3. My father had just brought us to a new and better country. He wanted to give us the chance at a better life and better education. The person that helped him through this all was his great uncle. This man helped out family find jobs and a home after arriving in a strange land. He had my father's utmost trust and love. A love he viciously betrayed.

I remember a man I called "uncle." A man that would play with me and my baby sister. A man that was to be trusted. A man that would take me to the restroom to play a game. A game called "find the lollipop," a euphemism for oral rape. I obviously had no idea what was happening. I was only 3. One day, dad caught him. I had never seen him so angry, so full of wrath. He went after the man he considered a father with the intention of killing him. But my father's employer intervened. My dad's boss was more worried about the police finding out he had hired illegal immigrants than bringing a child molester to justice. I saw the boss kick out my dad's uncle and told my dad that at least I wasn't physically harmed.

Dad was physically abused when he was a child. If a child misbehaved you "spanked" them with a switch or a whip so hard you were supposed to leave a mark. It was how he was raised and thus when we misbehaved, a bruise or broken skin from a switch was "normal." It scared my mom. She had never seen a child hit in that manner. But as a Christian, she was taught that you don't leave a marriage unless he commits adultery. Beating your kids to the point that you fear for your life and theirs doesn't justify leaving. Besides, what can a 23 year old woman with 2 kids in a country she is not supposed to be in do? She knows no one and she doesn't speak the language. So she stays. And she watched this man be a loving father one minute only to turn into a lunatic swinging his arms with rage the moment someone contradicts him. She never knew which man she had from one moment to the next. Was he the protector or the destroyer?

By age 10 my family found a way to become legal citizens. The fear of being deported was gone. The lollipop man was long gone. The fists and the switches continued. The family had grown. It was four girls now instead of two. But dad was a very social and trusting person. He met many guys looking for a place to stay and he was happy to help struggling immigrants. He used to be one once upon a time. And it happened that one family "friend" gained my trust. He saw that I was blooming early and invaded my small breasts when no one was watching. He reached in my pants and patted and pressed. I was confused. I was scared. (Dad would be angry if he knew this was happening. What would he do to me for letting this happen? I had a dream once about a man and a lollipop. Dad was angry then too. Did he get angry at me them? I don't remember. But if he got angry he would beat me and I can't hide anymore bruises.) The man touching me leaves. I tell no one. Because he read me. He knew I would say nothing. A week later I tried to slice my arms with a broken piece of glass. I wanted to die.

(I'm 13 and I have my first boyfriend. He's 15 but he doesn't touch me in the special places he's supposed to. I should tell him he doesn't know how to be man. I should cut again.

I left him.

I'm 14 and my 21 year old uncle touches me the way I'm supposed to be touched. I do so much with him. But not sex. Sex is wrong. I go down on him but I really don't like it. It makes me feel scared and I'm not sure why. Also I stopped eating. I'm 98 pounds. I'm really fat. I do 100 sit-ups a day and it's still not enough.) This man, the 21 year old. He never got what was coming to him. I hate how he tricked me. I hate that I thought it was a relationship instead of realizing it was abuse. I told mom one day when I was 17. All she said was "stay away from him. And don't tell your father. He'll kill him and go to jail."

After years of therapy and diagnoses, I have bi-polar disorder, borderline personality disorder, major depression and a recovering self harmer. I dropped out of college after trying to pursue a degree in Mathematics because the panic anxiety got to me. I'm so scared of abuse that I have chosen not to have children. I recovered from anorexia and bulimia but I am now obese and still struggle with self esteem and body image. But that's the bad news.

Christmas 2007. First time in over 5 years the family is under the same roof again after everyone was all grown up. Mom, Dad and all four of us girls. Dad sits with us and begins to cry. He apologizes for the way he mistreated us. He apologizes for beating us, for yelling and cursing as harshly as he did, for treating us as badly as he was treated as a child. He wanted a better life for us but he continued the cycle. He gets on his knees and begs for our forgiveness. We hug him and we love him more and more than we ever thought possible. I finally knew what it meant to love and not fear my dad. He passed away in September 2011, he had all of us there at his side.

My sister has 2 kids. They miss their grandpa. When they misbehave, they get time-out in the corner or no TV and no computer. Their bruises are from playing too rough at the playground. And they know exactly what an adult should never touch. They know to scream, kick, yell and tell someone if anything like that ever happens to them. I hope this is where the cycle ends.

Maybe one day I will go back to school and become a math teacher. Dad would have been proud.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Samantha

by Samantha
(Location Undisclosed)

I can remember as far back as two years of age. Hard to believe? Believe. I never felt loved by my mother. Only hate, resentment, and jealousy. Why, i dont know. If I wasn't being hit, slapped, or beat for something, I was being told how evil I was or how she hated me and wished that I was never born. These words were far more worse than the beatings. I could tell you things that a normal person could not conceive but it would take all day.

I hated her so much that I used to pray for her to die in her sleep. I even tried to kill myself when I was 15 just to escape. To this day, she doesn't know about that and denies the abuse or, quote, doesnt remember it. I am now 50 years old and have been troubled many years because of her. We still dont have a close relationship. Just a tolerable one. I know its hard but take my advise. Let go, and let God. Its the only way to redemption. Otherwise it will totally consume and destroy you. Jesus is the only one who can set you free. All you have to do is ask, receive, and believe. When you have unforgiveness and bitterness in your heart towards someone, you give them control. Set yourself free, give control and your life to the Lord. Its the only answer. Amen!




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Aswin

by Aswin BK
(Kerala, India)

I am writing this for someone to find in case my father kills me and my mother. All the information provided in this file are exact accounts.

My father is a person with very bad temper. He tends to be very decent outdoors infront of the people, so in the society, he is almost like the perfect gentleman, but in the house, he tortures us. He occassionaly beats me and my mother and almost daily verbally abuses us.

I spent my childhood in Trissur, where he worked. During those days, he was better, but would sometimes behave as a mad person. Once, he destroyed a handheld sewing machine with a hammer. It was one of the worst memories of my childhood as me and my mother watched in horror as he turned the device into bits. He once beat me with spare coaxial cable when I was 4 or 5 years old. I can only remember bits of the incident like a black cable lying around me and me crying helplessly.

Next year, we moved to an other area called Kothakulam. There things were pretty decent, but was also the place where I first understood that, most of the time, I had to hear swear words and scolding for things which were not my fault. Once, while killing some offsprings of rat during night, he asked me to bring a torch. I went inside and took an LED torch that we had and went outside only to hear him call me "P******i, why did you bring this torch" I answered him that, because he told me to, he replied why I did not bring Emergency lamp as the torch offered little light". Imagine the opposite scenario, If I had brought the emergency lamp, I would still get some "swear" words from him.

He also suffers from huge ego problems, he is furious if someone points out he is wrong. One of the fine incidents were his idea of hanging a 22" computer monitor and using the keyboard/mouse from 10 feet away. I explained to him that a larger monitor would not result in larger font, but merely larger screen area. The results from the idiot, my father ranged from "patti" meaning dog to words meaning f****r.

During my first grade vacation, me and my mother moved to my father's house, in Muhamma. For the next few years till the housewarming of our new house, almost everything went fine. He would not curse us infront of the family members or over react. He would come to visit us only on weekdays. My mother always told me that, he had a lot of work and the short temper was one of his nature, but he was a very good father. I must admit that he bought me computers, which I consider my life. Today the only value that he has in my mind is his Monthly income and without it, he a big zero.

After moving to our new house, I stumbled upon a message on his phone sent to "S--", whom I called aunty and was a family friend back in Trissur. The message was explicit and not appropriate. I didnt know what to do, It was the day which made me loose all the respect towards my father. The next time he yelled at me and called swear words, I showed this message to my mother. There was a fight between them. My father told my mother that he did not send the message. He would leave the phone at his desk in his office, the young workers may have used it to send the message to the lady, and told my mother to call her and ask her if she recieved the message, if she had not recieved it, everything was fine. My mother believed all this bluffing and the reply she got from "S--" was that she never recieved any message from him. From that day, my life was a struggle to connect whatever clues that fell infront of me. I assessed that, the message was indeed sent by my father and was not the first and she had recieved it.

I was sure he would never leave the phone on his desk. One incident proved that I was right. He now owns a new phone and I use his old phone. Once, I changed the defective cover of the phone for a synthetic cloth cover made by my mother's elder sister for which he was furious and yelled at me telling, that the phone still worked because he used it very "carefully". Now tell me. Would a man furious for changing a phone's protective cover leave his phone unattended in his office while he had field work? I was sure that, a man in his right mind would not send a woman such a message unless there was a relationship between them. Those days, I would often find the name "S--" in recent call logs of his phone, and he often accepted that they contacted frequently. The message was in the Phone's sent folder, this meant it had to reach it's destination as the message time limit was set to network maximum, this meant, if the receiever's phone was switched off, the message would be wait for months before the delivery was complete and would not disintegrate into thin air. Therefore, the answer that she provided was a lie. When he discarded his phone number ending in '2', I asked him the number, for my own use for which he furiously refused and offered me my mothers number, ending in '3'. He would not give the number regardless of me asking the number multiple times. And of course all this meant that my father had an extra marital affair.

My father has the behaviour of getting close with woman who he calls friends and I was and is still afraid of showing even photos of my teachers and female friends. I often found profile photos of people who looked good in his hard disk and phone. When asked why he saved it, he would say, for fun. Coupled with this, he has the behaviour of watching Adult videos and often videos of poor girls being raped and captured in phone cameras. He has little knowledge with Computers and always attacks me saying it is all electronics. The advantage is that, he always leaves the browsing history intact and the web history in the google has not been disabled. His web history and youtube
search history included results of not appropriate things and some vulgar videos of other language. I cant understand why this person of middle age (He is 50) can enjoy videos of young girls being cruelly raped and capture on phone cameras. After seeing those links, I decided I would never obey him and respect him and he is a sex offender in the complete sense.
I dont think he would leave a girl if she is alone. I had VLC player installed on my Operating System, he wanted access to my Windows so he could
watch adult videos during the night. The next day, My recent documents menu was literally filled with text which described organs of a woman.

He would also yell at my mother and swear at her, if she did something that he did not like, eg. leaving the door of kitchen open during evening (The house remains secure as there is a grill in the Work Area). It is often impossible for my mother to lock the door, as she works in the work area and has to come into the kitchen and go back frequently. But the worst thing is that he would beat up my mother if he is not in good mood. He would also abuse me, so one time, when his hand raised for some simple fault from me, abnormally I stabbed him with a ball point pen in my hand, luckily he backed off and went away.

He blames and curses me for all the faults that occurs with the computer and would later apologize that it was because he loved computer too much.

Recently he started contacting his cousin and from the start of this relationship, I had a feeling that this was going out of control. His phone inbox was flooded with messages from her and would send her messages as reply. Yesterday, I reset the password of her account and found that the only address in her contacts list was that of my father. He would spend hours in her house during evenings and would never come straight to our home. When my mother saw the messages and asked him to stop this relationship and stop going to office through their home, he said he cant as it was the shortest way. He would often compare me with her cousin's mentally challenged son and once I had to share my room with him for weeks.

All these years, my mother advised me not to talk of these things and always respect my father and would repeatedly tell me that he was a good man.
I am 18 now, and I think my father can best be described as a b***ard who cheats his family and abuses them and takes interest in woman who are bored with their daily life. Just because he is my father does not mean he can abuse me whenever he pleases. I think people like my father should be punished and put away in jail till the end of their life or be hanged because they serve as potential security threat to women in our community.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Zoralee

by Zoralee
(Tennessee, USA)

It is so hard to write this story. I am an elderly lady, in my nineties, and I feel great shame about my childhood. I grew up in the years before the depression. My family and I lived on an isolated farm, on a mountain, in Tennessee. I was the oldest of eleven children. I worshiped my Papa, and I seemed to be his favorite out of all the children. Things changed when I was eleven, my Papa got me alone in the barn one evening and raped me in the loft. I laid there, and let him do it, because I trusted him. I didn't know what he was doing to me, I was only a child of eleven, and I still played with dolls. Homemade dolls my Mama made me. When he was done, I had blood stains on me, and he said to tell Mama I started my woman monthly thing. I didn't even know what that was. Back then things like that wasn't talked about. Needless to say she believed me. The rapes went on for another year and then I became pregnant. My Mama was confused because we were so isolated on that mountain, and she couldn't figure out who the father was. We went to school in a one room church down the road, and we were related to most all the young boys that went there. She asked me outright who the father was, and I told her Papa. She slapped me across the face, and called me a liar. My two younger sisters stood up for me, and admitted he was doing it to them too. My Mama wasn't the same afterward, but she stayed with him. I had a baby girl when I just turned thirteen and my Papa and Mama adopted her and raised her. My Papa quit raping me and my sisters after that because my mother's brothers beat him up badly, because of what he did to me and my sisters. My baby girl was eleven when I met my husband. I couldn't take her with me because she believed I was her sister and not her mother. Time went on and I had eleven children of my own and I never told them about their half-sister. I think they may have found out at some point but they never let on. They were too afraid of my anger. I had too much hate and anger in me, to be a good mother, and they all left me. My husband couldn't deal with me either, and turned to other women and alcohol in our marriage. I'm an old woman now and will live out my days in self-loathing.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Andrzej

by Andrzej ZM
(Poland)

Hi. I'm Polish from Poland. English is a 5th language I had to learn. I was born in 1975. My dad was murdered at 1980. My mom married again in a 6 months after he's gone. Stepdad was an 45yo ex militia officer. He had 2 daughters 9 & 12yo. He was molester. He had a bro in U.S. Mom left me and country and flew to his bro to earn money for family. Next day after she was gone stepdad came to my room and said that I'm no longer boy but girl. He changed my school and told teachers that in sissy and I love to be dressed in school. So I was. Every day. Every day I was humiliated by school mates who knew im a boy who loves to crossdress. everyday they laughed at me. At a house dad raped me everywhere. Yes he used his daughters a same way. When mom came back in 1987 at June we were waiting for her at the airport. Me dressed in a pink dress and with girly hair and makeup. I still remember that mom asked him:" I understand U came with 1 of ur daughtrs but I want to see my son". Then I said "its me mommy"! Mom got really mad. Divorced with him but beouse he was exofficer of the communist militia couldn't charge him for pedofilia. so they divorced. Mom send me to the mental institute to change my behavior. At that time it was a crime to be homosexual in Poland. Well polish people still are so homophobic so that's why I write my history here. I had spend 3 years of my teen age in a mental communist hospital. I'm 37yo right now. Only in 1997 had a gf. 1st and last one. Never had a bf. Never was happy again. I'm working, I'm "normal" guy but I don't know my real sexuality. I'm not a guy. I like girls. Not boys. But sometimes I dream that I'm raped anally again... I don't know if I am starting to loose my mind...




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Child Abuse Story From Janelle

by Janelle
(Location Undisclosed)

I never really thought that I had an abusive family. I am in my late 30's now. I have severed ties with my family.

As far as I recall, my father never hurt me as a child. But I remember my father beating my mother. My father loves to drink and he also smoked marijuana (according to my mother). My mother stayed and never left my father until she saw my father beating up my brother for the first time. My father kept my brother up all night while he verbally tormented him and physically hurt him. My brother was 5 years old at the time.

My mother took me and my brother away and left my father. We rented an apartment and went on with our lives. Mother was working and raised us by herself. I only saw my father when he visited our school. He would follow me and my brother home and that's how he found out where we lived.

Growing up, life was good. As kids, my mother spanked me and my brother as her way to discipline. But otherwise we were fed, clothed, schooled, loved and protected by my mother. My mother had a few boyfriends and they were all good.

Growing up, my brother became hot tempered. There were many times we would fight as kids and he would physically hurt me. Push, punch on the arm, pull my hair and stuff. This only happened when we fought. Otherwise, he was a caring big brother who confronted other kids who bullied me in school. He became my protector. This is why I didn't, and STILL, don't know if what he did to me is called, "abuse".

My mom has witnessed my brother hurting me. But I don't recall my mom getting in between to sort things out. I recall her pulling me aside after my fights with my brother to tell me I was wrong.

My father already knew where we lived and would visit me and my brother once in a while. One day, my father visited me and my brother. I was about 11 years old. I was playing with a match. I lit it up, blew the fire and threw it out the door where my father was walking in. The match flew on his eye! He all of a sudden attacked me, slapped my face, pushed and kicked me.

As an adult, I made decent money and became the family's sole bread winner. My mother kept all my earnings. She never put her hands on me again but she would scandalize me in public when ever I did something wrong. At home, she would scream at me, put me down and call me bad things loud enough to have all the neighbors hear everything. I became very insecure and I was always embarrased to go out and be seen.

In my 20's, my mother, who so loved money, arranged for me to go abroad knowing the risk of me possibly having sex for money. She gave me contraceptive pills and taught me to take it daily. I flew abroad risking my safety. At the time, I was willing to go because I knew it will bring a lot of money for my family. My mom got paid a lot for this. She bought a small house and named the title after herself.

As adults, my brother continued to hurt me every time we fought, and he too, was very abusive verbally. Months before I got married, my brother and I had an argument and he punched me on the face, pushed me and I fell on my bed and he kicked me. I had a black eye the next day. My mother was in her room at the time, listening to what was going on, but never came out to defend me.

Growing up, I was sheltered which made me very dependent on my mother even in my 20's. But I moved out after my brother punched me on the eye. Eventually, I moved back in with them and things were okay again.

I left home after getting married. I was married with young kids when my last fight with my brother happened. He was vicious. He did not hurt me physically only because we were physically apart. But he called my children monkeys and other bad things. He said he wished I was dead and called me a sl*t and other hurtful names.

I loved my mother and brother. But I have matured and now realize that I cannot keep them in my life. They dragged me down and were ungrateful for the things I have done for them. Until today, they do not think they caused me harm.

I don't know if these incidents can be called "abuse". I don't know if they abused me. I just don't know. I don't know that it's okay that I don't speak to them now and don't plan to for as long as I live. I feel guilty deep inside but I know I am better without them. What I know for sure is that the things they did to me, I would not do to my own children. Especially sending my daughter out of the country for high-class prostitution.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From David

by David L
(Albuquerque, New Mexico)

I am 35 years old. I stumbled across this site while looking for a totally different site and saw this as an opportunity to share my story in the hopes that doing so will help others as well as myself. My story is one of abuse and neglect that I know has been told many times before by many different people. Still, it is a good idea to express those feelings that those who are abused get so used to burying deep within.

When I was one year old my mother abandoned me in an empty apartment. She had been the victim of abuse by my father for several years. She was sixteen years old. She already had another child as well, my older brother P--. Whatever the reasons that she had for leaving me that day are her own. I can remember a still frame snapshot in my mind of an empty room as I was sitting in a carrier staring at a wall. Once she was far enough away she called my dad and told him where to find me.

My father was a very busy person, working as a paramedic, he devoted his life primarily to his work. As such, I was left with his parents, my wonderful grandmother and grandfather. Long story short, the time came when they legally adopted me as their own. My dad, however, was never completely out of the picture. Whenever I would "act up" his answer was hitting, and threatening my safety. I was in elementary school at the time.

School was particularly hard for me. During elementary school, I remember several times when I would go to the bathroom only to turn from the urinal to be punched in the stomach by an unknown assailant. I was being taught that I should defend myself if necessary. One day I was walking out of the bathroom when seven kids came in and cornered me in the bathroom. I was very scared. I hit the one closest to me, breaking his nose. The others ran out of the bathroom upon seeing their leader in pain. Not long after, I was escorted to the principal's office and sent home.
I do not know the details of what happened next, only that after I got home my dad announced that I would coming to live with him for a while. Again, I was very scared. The real trouble was about to begin, and only intensified after the principal made the decision to expel me from the school.

Many of the details about my time with my dad in his home are fuzzy to me now. He had remarried and I now had a step-brother named J--; who, I might add, could do no wrong. We were sent to a very small private school. My dad was not a drunk. He did not do drugs. He did, however, have a very serious anger problem. If he fought with his wife, C--, he would take it out on me. If I ever did anything that would get me in trouble, I would be hit or thrown or made to sit on my knuckles on a hard floor for two or more hours. Small things that some kids would have a four minute timeout for, I would be tossed into, and sometimes through, walls. Lets not forget that if the wall broke when my small body hit it, I would be in trouble for that also.

There is so much that I still do not remember about the years I lived with my dad. In fact, I know I lived with him for a few years, but I cannot say just how many, nor can I recall anywhere near enough memories to fill the whole time. One thing I do remember is when I was close to going back to my grandmothers and grandfathers. I was playing in a room with my step-brother J-- when I heard the front door slam. Frozen, I waited to see my father. He walked past the door, giving me an extremely evil look. He walked past the door several times before finally coming into the room. When he did, he grabbed me by my hair and pulled me out of the room. Screaming into my face, I was told never to discuss leaving his home again, and that if I did I would regret it. Several times, I had quietly attempted to talk to my grandparents about what was happening. It was hard for them to listen to because after all I was talking about their son. Though they loved me, they loved him also. When the incident happened, my Uncle B-- had confronted my dad about my coming back to my grandparents home to live. They ended up fist fighting in my grandparents home.

Then one day my dad came to me, sullen and downcast; asking me if I would like to live with my grandparents again. I was desperate not to show to much excitement, but was soon re-united with my grandparents, who were in my eyes my mom and dad.

The abuse would continue as I grew. Though I did not live with him, he would still call, or show up just to threaten me with harm. I lived in fear of my father until the day he died. And now I am left with a lot of issues that I may never be able to solve.

There is so much more to this story, but to write everything that happened to me and around me would take much more time than I have currently. Not to mention it would be a small novel at best. I feel lucky to have had my grandparents who became my saviors, though I wish they would have listened to me. If ever anyone wants to know more about my story, or any more specific accounts of my dads abuse towards me, I will be happy to tell. Until then, I will remain prayerful for all of the poor children who cannot escape their abusers. The problems run so much deeper than the physical abuse as the mental effects can last a lifetime. I am now 35 years old and still struggling with much that happened to me. I have had my own battle as an abuser, fighting to stop the cycle with me.

My heart and love goes out to everyone in a similar and even worse situations. I do love you, and I do care. Sometimes just venting can help. Thanks to whoever is responsible for this site. I will now be a regular visitor.

David.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Michelle

by Michelle
(United Kingdom)

It happened to me! 
I have suffered abuse my entire life sometimes I wonder how I can still be alive. To write my full story would take a few years so I will not include all of it. My mother has never ever been a mother she was too interested in drugs and alcohol to care I was often left on my own to care for my siblings. I have suffered neglect and physical abuse but to me that was normal. When I was 6 I was abused by my friends father it went on for 2 years I was very frightened to tell anyone due to the threats. I can still remember the crushing weight of him lying on top of me, the smell of his breath and the panting noises in my ear. I hate these vivid memories. I hated how he made me bleed and my tummy hurt for around a week after. One day the police came to my door my mother answered. They asked to speak with me I was standing at the top of the stairs I felt my tummy hit the floor I was so worried. My mother said WHAT HAS THE LITTLE F***ER DONE. I had done nothing someone had made a complaint against the man who had been abusing me little did I know he was doing it to 10 other little girls. When the police left I expected my mother to be all sympathetic and give me a hug I was so wrong she beat me up so bad saying I should be ashamed of myself for letting a full grown man touch me like that.

Life went on after that my mother was viscious and never showed me or my siblings any love. She met a man I hated him from the start and I had every right to be as he would be my second abuser. My life from that day he moved in would be HELL. He had only lived in the house 2 weeks when he beat my mother to a pulp her whole body was black and blue. He beat me and my 2 year old brother almost daily but I could handle that. It was night time I dreaded when he would come into my bedroom and do things to me that I hated. I wanted to die I felt I could not go on like this no longer my small body felt broken so I took an overdose. I was scared so I told my mother she dragged me through to the bathroom banged my head on the toilet seat grabbed a handfull of dirty cat litter and grinded it into my face and mouth trying to make me sick. He came into the bathroom and at one point they were both beating me at the same time. He then took me outside and dragged me to the main road and threatened to push me in front of a car. Back in the house I started to feel unwell so my mum lay me on her bed she looked worried she went to get me a drink of water as she left the room he came in and offered me a pink pill I knew what it was as my mother took them all the time and they made her fall asleep. Now I know they were called DICONOL pharmasutical heroin. He gave me one to take and I did take it hoping it would send me to sleep. I know now he was trying to kill me. Life was unbearable to the point I thought of dying all the time I prayed at night begging god to not let me wake up in the morning but my brother needed me. My sister had died of cancer a few years before so he had no one to look after him but me. When that evil scum bag flew for him I would jump in the way and took the beating. I was never at school as my face was always bruised and swollen plus he was worried I would tell someone what was going on at home.

My mother soon fell pregnant to this monster this worried me another person subjected to my horror. When my mother was 23 weeks pregnant he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her down the stairs that night she went into labour. My baby sister was born weighing only 1lb 4oz. She did survive was in hospital for 8 months and then she got out. When she was 10 months old she died of cot death this made my mother turn to drugs even more. I can never understand what it must feel to loose 2 children but I know that I would cherish the ones I still had. The abuse got worse after this one day he came into my bedroon during the day this confused me because it was normally at night when everyone was in bed but not this time he came and demanded unthinkable things. My mother walked in took one lookat me and then turned around and walked back out then it hit me. MY MOTHER KNEW and did nothing to protect me after he was done he left the room I sank to the floor and cried for hours I was 13 by this time and I knew I had to get out of that house before it killed me. I packed a bag and jumped out of bedroom window and I ran and ran until I came to my friends house I got her dad to take me to another friends house who I grew up with her mum was like an aunty to me. I stayed there for 3 weeks my life was great I was so happy until one day I came in and my mother was sitting there she was hysterical with anger I was so frightened I pleaded please don't let me go back there. Thankfully for me she had called the police and social services and I was placed in my aunts care there I was safe and happy. A year or so after my mother fell pregnant again my worst fear. He was also born premature but due to drug abuse he got home after the withdrawels left him and he was well enough. When he was 8 weeks old he was rushed into hospital my aunt told me he was very ill but no one knew why. The next day I was told it was because he had been beaten he had 4 fractured ribs, both his femur bones where broken and he had severe bleeding on the brain and behind his eyes. He did survive but is severly disabled he was taken into care.

My mother did so many unthinkable things to her children and I can honestly say that I hate her. I have my own children now and cherish them so much. Abuse is wrong and ruins so many lives. We need to say to ourselves it was never our fault no matter how much we where told it was we where innocent.

This is only a tiny fraction of my life to write it all would take forever. My heart goes out to anyone who has suffered any type of abuse.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Shay

by Shay (male)
(Location Undisclosed)

I am 23 years of age, a registered nurse and working a job that I love! Ever since I can remember, I have been a very effeminate individual. As I aged I started to realize how different I was. At the the age of 5 my mother left me home with my father to pick up my other siblings from school. My sister had a basketball game and my brother stayed after school so it was really late. My dad left the house and left me there alone. Moments later, he came staggering in the house, apparently drunk. He called me to the room. He was laying there on the bed drunk, half conscious half sleep. I did as I was told. He had me touch him. Then he started reaching for my buttons on my pants. As he was struggling, headlights beamed through the windows of the bedroom. He jumped up and scattered to the bathroom. Unaware of what had just occurred, I went to the living room as if nothing happened, my mom and siblings walked in. A few months passed and my older male cousins started staying the night because their mother was working late. My older cousin would lay in bed with me and my little brother and I would always sleep in front of him. One night, I was awaken by him fondling me. He told me to be quiet and if I told anyone he would hurt me very bad. He continued to fondle me as I laid there quiet. That next weekend, the same thing happened, this time he attempted to penetrate me. As he was trying to force his way inside of me, my dad walked in the room and flicked on the lights to let him know his mother was there. Because we were under the covers, my dad was unable to see what was going on. A month or so Later, as far as I can remember I recall being at my female cousins' house getting my hair twisted. I had very curly long hair as a child and all my cousins loved to play in it so I let them. My older female cousin was twisting my hair and when she was done, she pulled off her underwear and starting masturbating. Right there in front of me. I was only 6. I tried to get out of the room, but she wouldn't let me. She then made me play with her as well. I was so grossed out. Finally someone knocked on the door and when she opened it, I ran out of the room and ran home, crying the whole way. A few years have passed now and I am keeping myself out of trouble. Avoiding situations that inflict harm. I was so confused, lost and sad. As I grew older, I started to understand what had happened and what was going on. As a child in elementary school, I was constantly bullied, called faggot this, punk this, sissy that. I hated school but somehow managed to excel and make A's and B's all of the time. By middle school, I was extremely depressed and found comfort in food. In 5th grade I was already 180lbs. I was still getting bullied both in school and at home by my older siblings. My oldest brother would always punch me or kick me, push me down, slap me, whatever he could do to knock the "gay" out of me. I was told by my mother that I had sugar in my tank. I had no idea what that meant, BUT i knew it wasn't good. Food made me feel good, whole, complete, safe. By this age, I hated my dad, male cousin, female cousin and oldest brother. My mother would always make me go to the alter for prayer to get the homosexual spirit rebuked out of me and prayed for by the pastor. Life was miserable. I felt helpless, out of place, and just numb to life. I was about 13 or 14 when the next painful incident occurred. My mother was at work, dad was hunting and I was home with my older brother (not oldest) little bro and sis. My sister was in her room, my lil bro was asleep and me and my older bro were awake. I remember walking down the hallway and my older brother pushing me down on the floor. As I struggled to get up, he kept pushing me back down. He somehow managed to pull my pants down and force himself into me. I felt so disgusting and low. Like the scum of the earth. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom to expel the urine he released inside of me. I was tired. I cried and cried and locked myself in the bathroom. Afraid I would tell, he kept knocking and finally broke in. He hugged me and told me to shut the f' up. Told me that if I ever told anyone he would kill me. I hushed and didn't say another word. By this time I was so over life and was so confused in regards to my sexuality. I didn't know what to do. By 15, i had expressed to my family that i was bicurious. They were appalled of course and my dad told me that no son of his would be a faggot. Sigh. Go figure. By this time, I had determined that he didn't recall the ugly incident he created years earlier. I felt no one loved me or cared about, everyone tried to hurt me. I then started thinking about suicide and hurting myself. I started taking all these pills, trying to drown myself, writing suicidal letters, cutting myself, tying ropes and belts around my neck. I tried everything I could. My sister found one of my letters and gave it to my mom. Being the woman that she was she prayed, anointed my head and again tried to rebuke the demons. I began counseling the following week. All was going okay until the pastor that was counseling me made a pass at me. Rubbing my back and arm as he was talking to me. Made me feel so uncomfortable and gross. He's in prison right now to this day. Pervert. Moreover, Life goes on as we know it and I made my way on through. Eating and eating. By this time I was 275 lbs. I graduated from high school and the next chapter of my life was about to begin. I was so curious about being with a man at my will that I decided to get on an online chat site. I did. I met this guy 4 hours away from home. I went to meet him and told him that I didn't want to have sex, I just wanted to meet him. We met, sat in my car and talked. He then talked me into giving him oral sex. It was my first time. he didn't believe me...He then motioned me to the backseat. I told him no and that I was a virgin. I did not want to have sex. He demanded that I did what he told me and began man handling me. To make things easier, i complied. I went to the backseat. He forced his way in me. I cried and hollered, but that didn't make him stop. I begged and cried begged and cried. I never felt so dirty in my life. He then removed himself and got up. I laid there in so much pain. I was just raped. I knew nothing about him, his HIV/AIDS status or anything. I cried the whole way home. but after all, I did put myself in that situation. I never told a soul as I had just turned 18 and it was time for me to move out. I decided to move 2 hours away from home, get my own place and go to school. Afraid to live on campus or with other men, I let all my full academic scholarships go to waste. I had developed a phobia of crowds of men and public bathrooms at this point. It would kill me to go to a college and live on campus. I just couldn't. I established my routine and was working two jobs, maintaining my own and going to school. I felt as if it was a new start and began losing weight and trying to enjoy life. Marijuana and alcohol eased the pain and made life easier to deal with. I had managed to lose 120lbs. 3 years had passed and while i was keeping the weight off, I was not happy and the drugs and alcohol were not helping anymore. Behind in bills and low on funds, I moved home with my oldest sister in 2010. I became so depressed being so remotely close to my family and around these people. I slowly started to eat my way into happiness. I had gained 20 lbs in just 3 months. In 2011, I pursued nursing school. By finish of 2012 I had gained a total of 50lbs only 70lbs away from where I use to be. I am so sad and depressed as all these things have come back to haunt me. I thought I was over all these things. But they constantly disturb me and ruin my thought processes, sleep, and relationships. I have not been able to maintain a relationship, let alone trust anyone enough to allow them to love me. People dont know my story but are so quick to judge. If I could change my effeminate traits and characteristics, trust me I would. But i am simply who I am. Antidepressants dont help anymore and food makes me feel so miserable. i feel like giving up and just throwing in the towel but i know that God has a greater purpose for my life. This is just so hard to deal with sometimes. I want to talk about it I want to be happy and in a loving relationship but I don't want anyone feeling sorry for me or throwing guilt trips. I am an adult Those things have happened, not much to my control. I just need an outlet. i should be happy that i have two degrees, am hiv and std free, a Registered Nurse, just purchased a new car. But i am not happy. What is happy? What is love? I don't know much about these things. I am numb to the world and in a sense, emotionless. Empty, lonely, sad, just hurt and confused. I don’t understand.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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 Maxine Part 1

by Maxine JJ
(USA)

My Mom Part One: 
If you have ever been the victim of child abuse, I can definitely relate. That sounds lame, maybe, but my mother can be scary. I was emotionally and physically abused by my mother until when I got rescued. I grew up with a mother who didn’t want me—yet didn’t want to let me go. A product of a rough upbringing herself, she often took her anger out on me. She was manipulative, controlling, prone to outbursts of rage at seemingly simple things. A spilled glass of water. A misplaced book. I never knew what would lead her to punish me, so I tiptoed around her. She would have terrible episodes which always ended up leaving me scared as a young girl. She would ground me to my room for no reason. She isolated herself from the world except her husband and still does to this very day. She didn't want me to have any friends. I struggle to figure out why she did not threw me in the rubbish bin or kill me as some of the cruel women do, because the aftermath was a nightmare.

She worked at his surgery before she dated him. He was a tall muscled body builder former militant that sells drugs and a doctor by profession. My earliest memory of the physical punishment by my mom is from when I was 5 or 6 years old, in the early 90s when we started to stay with my stepfather’s family (Though according to me he was my real father as I was told). His family was nicer to my mother but I was treated like a trash. I was a target of all her attacks. I did not know when either of them would lash out at me and attack me. My parents (especially my bipolar mother) were inconsistent. Some days one thing would be permissible, and the next day it would get screamed at and hit for it. I felt that I was intolerable in my parent’s eyes. Whatever I did was disgusting. My whole life I thought I was worthless. As a child, I did not know what abuse is and what is not, and my parents told me all children are treated the same way at home is that I am worse than all children. I believed them. I was facing abuse of all kinds. On this day, I had done something to anger my mother—I can’t remember what—and she grabbed a wooden mixing spoon from the kitchen and spanked me so hard, the spoon broke. “You drive me crazy!” she yelled. The shock and pain left me feeling ashamed, confused. Other punishments would follow: the occasional whipping with an electric cord started and a beating with a broomstick. These punishments were random, inexplicable.

Maybe she didn’t like that I’d made noise playing in the yard, or that I’d interrupted her while she was eating something in the kitchen. I couldn’t do anything right, but I wasn’t sure what I was doing wrong. I wanted to be good, to make her love me. My earliest memories are lined with feelings of loneliness and despair. I loved my parents so much, yet I never felt like I could do enough to please them. On random occasions my mother would slap me, call me names, and lock me in my room for hours without letting me out for anything. There was one occasion where she randomly threw me in my room and slapped me. I heard her scream outside my door: "God, why did you curse me with this demon!?" I have never forgotten this. I was 6 when this happened still staying in the farm of my grandparents. After every one of these episodes, my father would come home, after hearing my mother complain about it, and beat my back with his belt. He would repeatedly ask me to admit what I had done wrong, but I never knew. Even his parents never interrupted though they witnessed my innocence. Oftentimes I would make something up just so she would stop hitting me. Even then, I could sense that she didn’t .Strict rules were enforced just for me only. The relationship between me and my mom was less than a mother and daughter. Things became worse as one of my cousin (father’s sister’s son) was staying there in the farm with us. One day he stole money from my grandmother’s purse. And I was accused of taking it. I was seven years by then. That was the first day that my mom started to show me how sadistic she is. I thought maybe I was not her daughter. She was demon possessed (according to my imagination). My cousin was always a sellout as he knew that I am favorable on the rest of the family.

After staying some months, we moved to his mansion out of town. My mom was pregnant and she was on break from drugs at that time but still tries her best to please him by abusing me. Only my dad was still using them and he was always harsh and hostile at me. My mother continues to beat me. I didn't know what to do, or what to say. I would only get beat if I did something wrong. Then, things began to get worse and worse. She would come up with new ways to abuse me. Of course she beat me for whatever reason. On that time I was always wearing long sad wet face because I was always crying at a place called home. It was 22 May 1992 when my mother gave birth to a baby boy called P--- . I was the sacrifice for his birth and I was doing grade two. I was working from sun rise to set as an unreasonable punishment.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Maxine Part 2

by Maxine
(USA)

My Mom Part 2: 
We were staying in a mansion but for me it was like hell. Slightly mistake that I could do would lead me into being pulled with hair and beaten . I took responsibility for taking care of P-- at an early age.

While living here I experienced one of my worst beatings. I was in elementary school and my teacher had written something about me being stubborn on my report card, I thought my mom couldn't read so I changed the date on an old report card and gave it to her. She noticed it and read it and found it was an old report card, this made her so angry, she went and got one of those big orange outdoor extension cords and began whipping me with it. While beating me I attempted to run out the back door and she screamed you lil ***** if you leave out that door I'll kill you. I stood there and let her beat me. I start defending myself by grabbing that cord; she took some handcuffs and handcuffed me to a post in the garage then beat me till I used the bathroom on myself "tears". and leave me there overnight. The next day she took me to school, and told the teacher she beat me and why. Teachers didn’t believe her. I remember one of the teacher called the social worker. It didn’t make it as my mother was more convincing. I would always have marks on my wrists and neck. Once, she put a rope around my neck and pulled really hard. I went to school the next day with a rope burn around my neck. I had to lie to the other kids, but I don't remember what I said to them.
I was not allowed friends, the ones I had were in secret. They never called because I lied and said I didn't have a phone. There were no sleepovers, again I lied to my friends and told them my mother had bad headaches maybe next weekend. I didn't go to parties, mom's headaches kept her from driving, "no I don't need you to pick me up I'd rather stay at home and take care of my mom." I was always told by my mother, "You go to school for one reason and one reason only and it's NOT to have friends!" So I kept them hidden from her and her from them. As I grew older I remained lonely. I never had any friends as I was not allowed. I clung to people I knew hated me just to have interaction with people. I allowed people to bully me because it was the only way I had interaction. I pretended that they cared for me. It was the only way I could cope, because my parents were never there to comfort me. On another occasion I remember her pouring all types of chemicals on the floor and making me get on my knees to clean the floor, my hands were so eaten up by all those chemicals that I had sores on my hands for days, I didn't tell anyone about how I got them because I was so ashamed.

The situation reached a breaking point around the time I was 8. She was working part time with my dad. Just after I’d left home for the school bus one morning, I realized I’d forgotten a textbook. When I hurried back to the house to get it, my mother exploded in anger. “Get out of here, you little sh*t!” she yelled. Then she grabbed a knife from the kitchen and chased me out of the house, shouting. A passerby saw the crazy scene and called the police. I was whisked away to a juvenile home, where social workers talked to my mother and me. My mother blamed her own childhood for her parenting problems, saying her adoptive parents hadn’t wanted her and had favored their biological child. My mother was so convincing to the social worker and make a promise that it was just an accident. I used to work (house chores) from morning until late without any play. I was eight years by then. I remember looking at all my scars and comparing them to alphabets because of their shapes. I used to think they would be there forever but over time they faded. I felt a lot of the abuse was my fault and I deserved every whip. I know now that none of the abuse was my fault and that I didn't deserve any of it. I kept it a secret from everyone. I hid the marks with long sleeves and skirts. I laughed until I cried around my friends when inside I was screaming, "Somebody please help me!" I pretended to be happy and carefree in school but always thinking, "Please don't let the day end." My grades were good, they had to be and no one ever suspected anything was going on. In later elementary school, I remember things getting steadily worse. My mother would have bipolar attacks, raid my room, throw my things everywhere, and say hurtful things to me. I can never remember what I did to provoke this. Always I felt it was something different; random. I would cry and ask why she did these things, but her reply was always along the lines of "Because you deserve it!" I continued to have few friends, and often she ruined the few friendships I had. I remember having been especially "good" to my mother for an entire week because my best friend's birthday party was coming up. I had bought my friend an expensive present with my own given by one of our teacher just for spending it as I was a good student and I was excited to have my first sleepover. I was putting away the dishes when I told my mother that we should go soon because the party had already started. She screamed at me and told me I couldn't go. She said I was ungrateful and spiteful. She grounded me for a week and would not allow me to even call my friend to tell her why I couldn't come to her party. When I saw her next I apologized for not being there, but I couldn't admit that my mother wouldn't allow me to go. I didn't have an excuse. After my mother didn't allow me to go to her next birthday party, she stopped being my friend. Randomly, I was not allowed to call my friends back or hang out with them. Always, my mother would say that I was too attached to these people and they will teach me how to be a rebel. One of my mother’s objectives was to make me feel inferior to everyone in the world. On that one she made it as I started to despise myself and felt useless. Some kids might admire my background by looking at my nice clothes whereas I was burning inside.

On one occasion I had developed a friendship with a boy who traded Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I wanted a friend, so I accepted the present of three or so cards that he gave me. When my parents found them, they grounded me for four months (no friends, no phone, no Tv, nothing but being in the house doing chores, and I could only come out for school. Eventually they forced me to terminate my friendship with him. They drove me to his parents house and forced me to give the cards back and apologize for being a deceitful child. They humiliated me beyond all belief. That boy did not talk to me again for an entire year. My few friends all left me during those months because they didn't believe me that I had been grounded for that long for something so trivial. She told me that she couldn't believe I was her daughter. I would often hear them complain about me to each other. They had seriously considered "dropping me on the streets to see how I will do." I told them several times that I wanted to kill myself. Their response was always disbelieving laughter. I remember my father once telling me: "So why don't you do it?" Then one day my mom sat down and talked to me. She said, "if you are going to kill yourself, go do it far away from the house because I don't want to clean it up." That was it for me. I stopped hurting myself because I realized this woman did not want to be my mother, why would I try to be her daughter? I tried by all means to be a good obeying child. I tried to get in the house on time and before dark, doing all chores without complains, but all that were nothing in the eyes of my parents. I was always quiet without any freedom. That silence made them accuse me of being stubborn because every time when she shouts, I just kept quite like I was not there. One day I found my mom seated in the sitting room alone. I created a chance to chart with her though I would get some negative results. I was asking her why she’s doing this to me. She told me that I do not listen, I am stubborn and she is doing this because I am a girl and she is teaching me how to be responsible. I was puzzled by this answer. Is this the right way of teaching a girl life? I didn’t get it. Instead of giving me some tips to approach my stages she only abuses me. I was living my life alone but with a lot of rules and their control. She told me that I never try to run away as I will get arrested at the spot.
Among other insults were:
"I'm glad you won't have to live with us forever."
"No one will ever marry you."
"You ******* little ****."
And the one that I will never forget for the rest of my life:
"You're disgusting."




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From April B

by April
(Wisconsin, USA)

I don't know where to start. I'm an adult survivor of sexual child abuse. I wasn't allowed to tell anyone about the abuse. Mother was not allowed to know. I was always told that this was all my fault because I was a bad child. And I had to be punished. My father said it was the way he was supposed to love me.


I love him because he is my father

I hate him because of what he did to me.

Am I wrong to feel the way I feel????

Sorry I didn't write much, but I'm not that comfortable.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

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Child Abuse Story From Katherine

by Katherine
(Utah, USA)

I remember sitting watching Miss America pagent, my black stepfather said: if you blink more than you need to you will get a spanking , so I sat there looking at the tv wide eyed, my eyes almost burning from lack of moisture, how much was to much? His spankings were beatings. He made things up from day to day as to what the rules were. He bought me a huge schwin girls bike , I could barely touch the pedals and said ride it, I got to where I hated new experiences because the pressure , the pressure of performing meant if I didn't live up to his expectations meant more abuse.
So I tried to ride the bike as best I could , but, it was taller than I was. The pain of falling down was nowhere as bad as the other choice I didn't have.
Once, he stood me on a stool, a tall one, he said as he moved the hands of the clock above the sink , the one that had no numbers on it, I was 5. He said: what time is it Kathy? I don't know daddy, WHACK!!!!
What time is it now Kathy? As he moved the hand of the clock to another location, I don't know daddy, WHACK!!!!!!!
I heard my mother asking him to stop, but not stopping it.
She allowed it in her old fashioned way.
She just wanted to stay home and raise kids , us kids. It didn't matter what happened to us, she felt she had no way out.
Finally for the 4th time she tried to kill herself the doctor told my grandmother " if you don't get her out of that house Im comitting her to a sanatarium. The monster sucked her will to live. My brothers and I use to get put on the porch while he locked us out closed the blinds and systematicly beat the life out of her. Once I saw her clutching the blinds from inside.
He'd let us in after he was done. My mother would be humbled as he would say.
Once I came home from school and the couches were knifed, the new couches , all the lamps broken, shards of pottery everywhere from them. The mirrors were all broken, the phone pulled out of the wall. I cleaned it up. It was him, him the sicko.
Him the maniac, changing our reality of love, of trust, of normalness. I had a hard time studying at school, I peed in my chair in defiance of the system, any system. Just to get back , back at someone, back at anyone, back at authority abused.
I tried to spend as much time at school as I could , it was safe there , the rules were safe there.
One day my hands were being burnt on the stove, my brother had been playing with matches so it was to teach me to not let my brother play with matches. He use to have me take baths with him.
My mother gradually protested and at the age of 7 it stopped.
I would cry at school constantly the tears just came for no reason , if I could not understand things they came. Bad teachers were no better, they would say ' I just told you that' and let me know not to ask again, so I floated , floated from subjects I did not understand , math , english. My grandmother came and stole us. Yes, it was the right thing.
She picked my mother up from the hospital , my black stepfater F-- had thrown the baby across the room,.
My parents friend B-- and his wife J-- came over to help but all that happened was B-- decided that I needed to come to his house so he could finger bang me and play horsey on his lap.
But it felt good, at 7 years old it felt pleasent.
I wanted more. I hadnt felt good ever.
My mother just went on and married a man C--, he became an alcoholic, I was never allowed to sit on his lap.
So no affection there.
It seems us kids just kinda loomed .
Every night they were either at the bar or the bar was in our home. Thirsty? theres beer.
I saw first hand poverty and ignorance being destructive tools.
Fighting all the time. Leaving us kids with drunk babysitters men. Men who chased me , who wanted me , I was 12 now. And use to stinky beer ridden men being friendly . Grama was a bartender , the most fun you could have was to go to the bar and grama would give you some quarters to play ski ball. While all the men oggled over you. I hid in a tree all night every time my parents left me at G-- and M--'s home with there 4 boys, and nasty G--. In his kacky pants.,and his greasy hair and stinky couch.
I froze in the tree, waiting for my parents to come home .
I froze in the tree many times.
I loved it when my mother was with no man, life was calm.
Then I became the mother , taking care of my mom. Id hear her sobs at night not knowing how to take care of us kids. The money. Id clean the house that always made her happy.
Then one day I didn't do the laundry right, she pulled my hair and pushed my head into the wash machine metal.
She slapped me called me a b***h. I was left also to babysit my 4 young brothers , while she went to the bar to spin her web, to catch another man. I see now she wanted love, stability etc, it was just the way she went about getting it.
I married at 14 , the school system had failed me. Always shoving me to the back of the class, never answering my questions. Teachers acting put out if you asked them a question. You would think they would notice a kid crying all time , some did and put it on my report card, " she's a great student but she crys all the time" . But one thing I knew to do and do well was clean house, and clean kids , and plant things to grow, and I could paint and decorate . And yes id learn to cook and cook well.
I had 5 children by the age of 21. Mostly lived on farms away from people , people who judged me. And yes there is a happy ending.




Darlene Barriere: author. speaker. survivor. coachNote 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.

Click here to read or post comments

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