Child Abuse Story From Julie

by Julie
(Location Undisclosed)

I am a 36 year old mother and wife. I have lost both my parents and many others I cared for. I am a survivor of many forms of abuse from sexual abuse to mental abuse. I often sit and think of all that I have been through. Some of my earliest memories are plagued with hurt and distrust. I was sexually abused by a family member from very early on. I wonder why my mom never stopped what was happening. She had to have known when I could not even urinate with out crying. She would put cold wash clothes on my privates to sooth the pain but did nothing to make it stop. One time when my mom found myself and the relative under the porch I got into trouble for "playing bad" ha I was 5 he was 15. She made me feel betrayed and dirtier than before. I had no one to turn to. I grew up being called every name imaginable. My older brothers drank and abused drugs. My mother and father were divorced and he had little input. One of my brothers often became violent and would come home to fight with my mom and ruin anything he touched. I know now he simply wanted love and attention. He has since committed suicide. One of my sisters would stay with grandma and I often hated her for it. She was not there to feel the fear. One beating sticks out the most. My sister spilled paint and my mom beat me so bad I ran. When I got to my grandma my back was bleeding from the whelps mom left with her bare hands. I had by then decided no one wanted nor loved me. I was around 8 then. I started my period when I was 8 years old. I had so many unanswered questions I was made to wear pads that didn't even fit into my panties. I ask why no one wondered why I started so young? Denial or shame I don't know but I know how awful and disgusted I felt. When I was 11 my mom decided I was old enough to be left alone. She would leave for weeks on end. There would be little to no food. My sisters and one brother would stay with my dad out of state during the summer so I was on my own. I began to drink and use drugs by the time I was 12. I began to skip school and my grades failed. Again no one cared. No one asked why. At the age of 14 I quit school and worked full time. I took care of myself asking for nothing but my mom's love. I am still waiting on that. On my mom's death bed I told her I was sorry for all I put her through and that I loved her. Her answer was to tell me I could "be good " when I wanted to. This hurts me more then anything. Imagine, I am a grown woman married with children and I am a nurse still longing for a love I will never receive.





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Child Abuse Story From Ms Anonymous

by Ms Anonymous
(New Jersey, USA)

The Pain We Went Through: 
It begin when I was 12 years old. I had to live with my mother side of the family because my mother was a drug addict. I notice I always got way more beatings for nothing then the other kid's. I hated living with them. 2 years later When I was 14 I had to go live with my father that's when things went from bad to worst. He physically and mentally abused me. He hit me in the face and head, he beat me with thick wooden broom sticks and he hit me and my head with a glass water pitcher. He always embarrassed me and humiliated me he use to call me like w***e, hoe and B***H, ugly. He made me feel worthless like trash. I hate him for what he did to me. He beat my son in the head and face last year He was 9 years old at time. Now because of him my son has bad childhood memories. I feel terrible because I wasn't there for my son. My father he f*** me and my SON life up I can't forgive him for that and he doesn't think he did anything wrong that's the crazy part. But me and my son take it one day at a time with our recovery. My kid seems pretty happy now so that's a good thing....




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Child Abuse Story From Gissele

by Gissele
(California, USA)

My Life Lesson: 
I remembering moving in excited to start a new life my mom my brother my aunt and uncle my cousins we lived in a 3 bedroom apt small space but it was filled with love. In life you cherish the small things you remember the good try to forget the bad take the lessons you are given and apply them to this thing called life. Life everyone had a different perspective of it and we all have our own story. As a young girl my life was family the most important thing in life, my everything the reason I grew up too young. Never would I think I would be in this situation where I developed an emotion of disgust to my own blood my brother my protector my father figure because he said he was. My father left when I was 3 he is the type of man that claims to be one, the kind that can hit a woman and says he loves her the same kind that my brother came to be the apple came from the rotten tree. My brother street smart a great storyteller with two personalities one loves me one hates me. So how is that my loving doting mother was too blind to see the mold that was building in our family tree she chose to turn the other cheek like most religious women she left it in gods hand she would say let god lead us. We were in and out of hell and the fire burned this family beyond repair. The younger me accepted our lifestyle my brother was god in our house what he said went why because my mother couldn’t speak up for me for her for our future. Perhaps its just LIFE. . . although I refuse to accept that the trials and tribulations I’ve been through were meant for me to stand up today I stand for change for respect for my FUTURE I don’t want to answer to this man this monster this druggie induced demon my brother. Why I ask myself why didn’t I stand up earlier truth is I was weak. The amount of fear that was built inside me. He pushed me deep down six feet under, to the point of no return. Physical abuse is key you see to evoke fear into the people that love you. His craft began at a young age hitting me when no one was home holding knifes to my neck, to me this was all a game and I hated it but the fear in me kept me from talking. Passing out because he wrapped his hands around my neck was normal to me I accepted this. This behavior was what I grew up to understand as love I kept my mouth shut as I matured over the years the physical abuse decreased and he sensed my fear fading. His mistake was taking things far beyond the limitations about a couple months back...sexual assault. This was when everything hit me. It was 2 am when I woke up I felt someone caressing my leg and my buttocks, I open my eyes its him my brother I ask him “what are you doing” he responds “looking for a pen” I thought I was dreaming I drift back into sleep. I awake a second time someone pressing against my privates its him again this time I don’t ask I simply move and put the covers on he then asks me ”Why did you cover yourself? ” I respond “I’m cold” I ask myself many times now why didn’t I yell kick and scream for help why was my reaction abnormal .The fear I felt was too big and from our past I knew if I kept my mouth shut nothing worse would happen to me : I was powerless. The third time I awoke he was touching me I moved again and I decided I would survive this if I am awake he wouldn’t touch me so I had to stay awake the whole night the things I saw that night ill never forget my own brother masturbating in front of my bed to my body the images will never cease the disgust is prominent to this day. The line had been crossed I kept completely silent till now. The violence resurfaced again after this because he hated me because I told my family he had simply felt my leg up. He was scorned and rejected from family events. It took me a while to build the courage to give myself a real voice. I had finally had enough of his abuse my mom was too now aware of his other personality. She wanted him to leave but he refused he made his kingdom here and he wanted to rule no one could control him he built fear in everyone. I convinced myself I had to take action the result was filing a police report I go to the police station thinking it will all be over they will take him and he will pay I think I finally won this never ending game. No I lost again what did the police give me? A possible restraining orders because I chose to report 5 months later. How flawed is the justice system where is my protection I ask myself is an event no longer actual after a certain amount of weeks go by the feeling I have today is rage disappointment fear and loss of hope. I fear for my well being I fear for tomorrow and tonight. While this demon continues to lurk my surroundings hate is a strong word but I feel it appropriate for this emotion I feel. I refuse to give up I will fight and get my justice he will leave my mother and I alone. Abuse is real mental physically and sexual. It is present and people everyday are victims fallen into the dark road of silence. My regret today is not been able to have taken action when I had the chance to make a change and throw him in jail now my own brother will never be punished for the sexual abuse and I will never forget what he did the images are engraved into my memory. This life lesson was the biggest yet my advice? Speak up and fight because we all deserve justice we all deserve peace of mind in our home. A home is not a home unless its your haven your keepsake fight for what you deserve because I myself am not done fighting for my justice.




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Child Abuse Story From Wanita M

by Wanita M
(Louisiania, USA)

My name is Wanita and I am a victim of Child Abuse by Molestation!!! At this point in my life, I am still trying to figure out if I am a SURVIVOR of this terrible thing! There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about what happened to me...and how it has shaped so many negative behaviors in my life. It is hard to know where to begin telling my story. As the victim, you want to disclose every detail you possibly can...so the reader can get the full jest of what happened during the period of abuse! So, let me start by saying...the abuse started when I was only 9 years old! I went on a trip to New Orleans with some family members for Mardi Gras. During my trip to New Orleans, a Family Reunion was scheduled (unbeknownst to me)...so I prepared to enjoy myself around all the people I knew would be there..AND...the people that I would meet for the first time!!!! Needless to say...That was the beginning of the WORST time in my life!

After helping to cook, clean, and prepare decorations, etc for the other visitors...the festivities began! There was so much food and so many people! There was a live band playing music... an outside bar and grill, restroom, and everything that a child my age would LOVE to be a part of! I remember being so happy and so full of love, life and excitement. After the crowd started winding down...late in the night (close to midnight), I was instructed to get prepared for bed...then I was told where i'd be sleeping at. I did what I was told to do, and got into bed as I was told...FASTFORWARD...I fell asleep and was awakened by "SNAKE" (his nickname)...and carried into the bedroom with his young daughter. I was placed in bed with her, but later...after everybody else got into bed (I ASSUME) is when he came back into the room with me and picked me up. He put me on the floor on a makeshift pallet on the floor...and began his sick, twisted ACT on me!!!! I have never been the same since! As I sit here and type this, it hurts my heart to type the words love, excitement and HAPPY...because I truly can't remember EVER being happy like I was before he violated me!!! It is so painful to know in my heart that I once was truly happy. The kind of happy that is pure, genuine and wholesome!!! I was always a lively little girl before he molested me! After that, I began to retreat and change. I am still sick because of this abuse! I think I waste a lot of time trying to pacify myself because I can't find the Wanita that I was before this cycle of abuse started on me! I need help to heal and to find life the way that Christ intended it to be...before Satan allowed this man to rob me of my innocence!!!!

I am sharing my story to help others who have been through this terrible SICK TWISTED THING THAT THE ABUSERS DO TO US VICTIMS!!!




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Child Abuse Story From Annette

by Annette
(Los Angeles, USA)

Who am I? 
I am 55 years old and I am just learning about myself. I have Dissociative Identity Disorder. This is very private and no one knows about it. Apparently it all started when I was a child. I was abused in every way possible. There was not anyone I could go to for help. They were all abusive. Therefore, I taught myself how to cope and survive. I did not want to survive but I did. I will not go into the details because I am sure I am not the only one. I grew up and got out of the town by getting married at 18. But of course I married a man that was abusive. I did have two of the most beautiful wonderful children a person could ever ask for. I took the children and divorced my husband. I went to college and earned a BS and started teaching. I raised my children with all the love my body could give. My life was finally normal. I put the past behind me and I went on. I gave my whole life to my children. I raised them in a religious atmosphere and I never spanked them. I did have to give them time out but not for very long because I missed being with them. They grew up to be the most perfect children. I went back to college and earned another degree in computers. I got a great job and traveled all over the USA and Canada for work. The children were in High School and College so it was okay to leave for a few days at a time. I could not have had the most perfect life. Just me and my children. Then it happened. I got a call telling me I lost my son in a car accident. My life ended. I did not know how to handle the lose. I went from hospital to hospital. Doctor to Doctor. Suicide attempts that I cannot count. I am seeing a therapist. I have been seeing him for 10 years. He kept telling me I had to process the past to get better. I do not see why. I overcame the abuse. I have excepted that it happened and I cannot change anything. I had my children so I would have someone to love. When that was taken away from me I had to face all the past again. I lost my memory and I did not need it because I had my children. I need my memory back because I have to remember my son. Actually, I did not lose my memory but put it in another place in my brain. When I was being abused as a child, I did not know how to handle this so I taught myself how to escape in my mind to overcome the hurt. So what I am doing now is research to find out how all this has to do with DID. I am searching for answers. Part of me wants to be normal but I know that what I have to do is just learn how to trust people and talk to them. Right now I do not trust one single person on this earth. I have found that people are cruel and they only look out for themselves. I guess that is the way it is suppose to be and I know that I do not fit in. I do love animals they are so loving and all they want is food and love.




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Child Abuse Story From Lynn

by Lynn
(British Columbia, Canada)

What to do when you acknowledge abuse by your parents: 
I grew up in a dysfunctional family. My father was emotionally detached. He was an alcholic. My mother is passive. The rule of the house was "what happens in the house stays in the house." My father would come home drunk and hit my mother. After a while my mother would tell me to go to my room when he drove up to the house. I had 2 older and 1 younger brother. We were all exposed but as the only daughter, I was told I was no good, better if I did not live. My brothers had no problem with degrading me and one actually tried to strangle me. I was 17 1/2 years old when my mother told me I was the only one with a good job so I can just move out. I found an apartment within the week and they moved my stuff. Just dumped everything in the middle of the living room and walked out. Seventeen years old, shy and confused. That was the start. My mother would have severe health issues and I would be with her in the hospital. I was codependent. When I was 43 years old my mother told my fiance that he was taking me away from her. That was the beginning of the realization that my relationship with my mother was sick. Without going into much detail...I basically was rejected by my mother. She would not come to meet my in-laws, help with finding a dress, plan the wedding etc. I had to beg her to come to the wedding with my father. During the early years of married life I started to feel more rejection from my mother. My brother had no job, moved in with my parents, moved in his equally dysfunctional girl friend...yes into my elderly parent's house. They started to remove walls in my parent's house, would not let my mother talk to me on the phone, threatened my mother that if she talked to me they would move out. So today I have done a few things. I do not have any contact with family. Due to my brother's abusive behavior via email and phone calls,I blocked their phone numbers and spoke with a lawyer. He wrote a letter on my behalf telling my family that they are not to contact me unless they go through him. Things were so bad that I physically felt fearful for my wellbeing. I did talk with my mother once, sent flowers, sent cards...Early this year I tried to talk to my mother (I found out via the internet that my father died last year) to let her know I knew about it and to express my sympathy. My brother's (now wife) answered the phone and would not let me talk to my mother. The wife actually was given a restraining order from her mother...so you can see abusers cling to abusers. I have done very well since stopping all contact with my family....the whole family. It has not been easy and there are a lot of unanswered questions "why" but there will never be any answers. The family is dysfunctional. I cut off contact. It is not easy to have no family but it is the best thing I have ever done. I am happy, secure and living life for myself. So there you go a condensed version of my experience...hope it helps someone else to leave the 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 Riley

by Riley
(Arizona, USA)

Evey thing was good until our family had a miscarriage. After that my dad just lost it. He beat me for saying "ok", a simple ok. Some times he would throw me on the ground and hit me. I tried to get away but he was three times my size. Sometimes he would just hit me randomly for no reason my sister walked me to my room and got me an ice pack. She would threaten him behind his back but she never spoke up for me. I told my mom, but she told me it was my fault that I shouldn't have done that or talked back. I had to use an ice pack a total of 12 times. I hid in my closet with my stuffed animal, she was the only one there. My dad had a "friend" who I know he was having an affair with, but never had proof. One night they left us alone, I said I was going to sleep in the guest bed room. At like 12:45 P.M. I felt the bed sheets rise when I look up he was on top of me, I tried to get him off of me but he kept beating me until I was semi blacked out. The next morning I had a gash on my head when my sister came with my dad to pick me up she asked me about it, my dads friends son the one who raped me gave me this look like he would kill me if I told so I said I fell. When I was about to leave he told me he would kill me if I told, I believed it too. He raped me about 4 times. After like another year of the beatings I thought about suicide a lot I some times look a razor thinking should I do it? Then I also thought about running away, I packed a bag and I was ready to leave, but I couldn't leave my sister. I also met a person who has been through the same thing and understands me, she is still with me today. Some times I can't help it but yell at people I'm friends with and then I hurt them physical on accident. I don't mean to. And when people who are close to me ask what's wrong I yell at them and emontonal hurt them, then I say I'm sorry I didn't mean to, they forgive me and ask what's wrong again, I really want to tell them but instead say something stupid. I started loving reading because I feel as if when I read a book I find a family who will love me or except me and I won't be getting a beating are going through depression. I want to tell a consoler or a Socal worker but I'm scaried about what my parents would do if I told. I love going to school because I get away from THEM but then I meet my bullies. I act all tough but that's just an act I'm actullly an emotional ball and just wanting to cry. I hope for any young kids who are going through the same thing, don't push away others, it's too late for me.




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 Victoria

by Victoria
(Location Undisclosed)

When I was 6 my moms boyfriends grandson (who at the time was 5). Told me about sex. I didn't no anything about sex...that it was bad or what it caused. He eventually started touching me and all that stuff. I didn't say no or any of that because I didn't no it was bad. Eventually my mom caught us dry humping in his bedroom and she asked what we were doing and I told her we were playing a game. The grandson eventually told me that this should be our secret. This went on till I was 11. That was when I got the sex talk from the doctor. I learned to say no and eventually he quit. I have been wondering if this is rape or sexual abuse or if this is something that the country does not consider abuse because he was younger than me.




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Child Abuse Story From Malise

by Malise
(Texas, USA)

I was abused by my father and my former step-mother from the time I was 5 to the time I was 11. I'm 15 years old now, and a survivor. My step-mother did most of the abusing, beating me daily, humiliating me in front of her friends, neglecting to give me my basic needs when my father wasn't around, attempting to murder me twice, and making me feel about about myself. It hurt a lot because my father neglected me, when I thought he cared. He never believed what I said because I was young. He chose her word over his own daughter's, and it pains me to think about it. I had two older step-brothers that saw and heard what she did to me, they were in high school at the time, and they never said anything either. My only comfort at that time were my two younger sisters. They would hear their mother beating me as I screamed in pain, and come to find me as I cried in my room alone to console me. I think that the reason she abused and neglected me was because she married my father for the wrong reasons, and decided to take her anger out on me. I still have lingering bitterness, depression, low self-esteem, and physical scars from that time. It still hurts, and I hope these feelings will go away in time.




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 Sabrina

by Sabrina
(Location Undisclosed)

I am 12 and I have been abused by my dad. I remember my dad beating me, my brother, and my mom. I remember my mom going to work with black eyes and bruises on her face and saying that my brother and her were playing baseball and he accidentally hit her with the bat. Also I remember my dad kicking me in the side HARD when I said "NO you need to stop" when he tried to hurt my brother. I had about 3 Huge bruises on my side and stomach.

One night I woke up and i was on the couch when I usually sleep on the floor in the living room with my brother. my brother was crying and i asked him what was happening... My dad started Yelling " SABRINA SABRINA COME HERE!!" I came and my mom was laying on her bed, he said to go and get some pillows i did. He put them beneath her head and her eyes were closed. He yelled call 911 I did. An ambulance came and took my mom away this was happening at 2:00 in the morning. We were taken away in a police car and went to my grandmas house. Before that we stayed in a foster home for about 30 minutes. when we got to my grandmas house, My grandpa and her were sitting down. They talked with us and then told ME MOM DIED....

2009- Mom died
2010- Close Uncle died.
2012- Grandpa died. (the one i lived with)
2013 March - Extremely Close Grandma Died...

I love you mommy. I love you Uncle T.
I love you Grampy. I love you Bobo. <3




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Child Abuse Story From Jennie

by Jennie
(British Columbia, Canada)

After reading Darlene's book I decided to share my story here. I was born to a Greek born father and an Irish born mother who both immigrated to Canada and then met there. My parents had a bad marriage from the start. My mother left my father when I was a few months old due to abuse. Eventually my mom went back to my dad and a year or so later my brother was born. My dad continued to abuse my mom emotionally and physically. A vivd memory I have of this time is my dad throwing his dinner plate to the floor because he didn't like her cooking. Then he forced my mom to clean up the mess while he watched. Not long after that, I was about 8, mom took my brother and I and left for good. It was a difficult divorce and my dad did everything to make mom's life a living hell. My dad received visitation with us from the courts. Every other weekend at his place.
My father was extremely angry after the divorce and told us how much he hated our mom. Eventually because my dad couldn't control my mom anymore I became the target of his abuse. I can't remember exactly when the abuse started but dad made sure I felt worthless. Emotional abuse: telling me it was a big disapointment when I was born because he wanted boys, constant criticism of almost everything I did, calling me/implying I was fat/ugly/stupid, yelling at me etc..He had unrealistic expectations of me for my for my age. Example, when I was eleven he got angry with me for not doing the dishes and making the beds without being asked. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me over the the sink. While still pulling my hair called me stupid and lazy. Then he pushed me into the counter and threw the dish soap at the wall. I never knew what to expect,he changed the rules at will, then abused me when I didn't meet his expectations. Slapping, hitting, pushing, and threatening to hit me with a leather belt were commonplace. During visitations with my dad he began sexually abusing me as well. He could also be a loving father when he wanted to be. I blocked most of the sexual abuse out until I was 17. When I was 17 my dad and I got into an argument (about normal teenage stuff) and he turned violent. My dad pushed me on the bed and started choking me. I couldn't breathe and my survival instinct kicked in, I managed to free my arm and I scratched him in the face. I scratched him so deeply that he had blood running down his face. He stopped. Looked in the mirror and kept saying "look what she did to me". Meanwhile, I was on the bed crying and hyper-ventilating. The only thing that anyone said to me was by my then step-mother, "Oh calm down!" Then they closed the door and left me alone. Of course, the next day everyone acted like nothing had happened. It was shortly after that the memories of the sexual abuse started to surface.
My mother didn't "abuse" me. But was totally clueless as to what that was going on. I know that she suffered from depression for many of those years, but it was obvious that I was not a happy child. She really wasn't able to provide my brother and I with the attention and emotional support we needed. She was very good at making decisions based on herself and not considering the effects on us. But she was very loving towards us. Neglect would be the word I would use to describe her.
I also had a hard time in school and was often bullied. I'm sure my non-existient self-esteem made me a target for bullies. In grade six I had a bad teacher who was a bully and abusive towards me. He played favorites and only liked the students that got good grades (I didn't). He picked on the rest of us.
I've suffered a lot due to all of the abuse. I'm being treated for recurrent severe depression and anxiety, for many years I suffered from obesity and bulimia, several suicide attempts, I dropped out of university due to lack of confidence and depression. I've have had some therapy and I have done a lot of work on myself. I want/need a lot more therapy but this costs money that I don't have. I find the public mental health services to be limited and not useful for long-term needs.
At 30, I met a wonderful man who has given me unconditional love and support for the last 8 years. I honestly don't know how I found him. I'm 38 now and I have more self-esteem than I have ever had before. But I am still very much struggling to find my "niche" in life. I continue to have a lot of challenges with interpersonal realtionships. I've lost one job after another due to other people having various issues with me. I'm defensive, angry,I say things that make people uncomfortable, lack of boundries etc.. I know that others may find me odd and don't understand my behaviour. These behaviours are due to the abuse. I have done a lot of work on me and changed a lot for the better over the years. I just keep being told you don't have these (interpersonal)skills, "you're not the "right fit", "it's not you" but... I just want to be accepted. I wish others could understand how hard I've had to work to get to where I am today.




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 Cynthia

by Cynthia
(California, USA)

My 5 year old daughter was molested by my SIL's husband.My MIL was taking care of her during the summer, but apparently was not doing her duty properly.She was in the home while the molestation was taking place.My daughter told us about the abuse and immediately my husband and I contacted the police department.He was never arrested even though there were 3 other victims(2 family members, and a neighbor). Apparently there was not enough proof. The day we went to court my mother in law was sitting next to him chuckling (literally) with him. Her son and I sat across the room in complete shock as to what we had just witnessed. He was supposed to have supervised visits with the kids (which were not supervised. He was kicked out of the house, but I believe due to the pressure of comments. My husbands family is still in contact with him and allows for him to do favors for them, and they never reached out to see how my daughter was doing.Instead comments came back of my MIL saying that she doesn't believe her because if abuse had happened she would of heard my daughter scream. My marriage is falling apart because I refuse to go around my in-laws, but my husband believes we should not stay away because the only bad person is the guy who committed the act. I feel that as a mother I need to protect my child not only physically, but emotionally as well. My daughter still speaks of things periodically in a vague way. My husband expects us to go to his family events as if nothing happened just because his sister is divorcing the guy. Yet they stil don't reach out to any of us.My husband emailed his sister a couple months back wanting ot talk about things and she never answered him.She deosn't return phone calls, yet we get an invitation from her for her child's birthday party. I don't understand. I think my daughter and I are worth more than to let this slide. I may be wrong, but I dont' knwo how else to swallow this. Family is supposed to be there in the worst of times and it seems this in-law family of mine never have. They have always been toxic to our relationship. How do I go about this. I will fight until the end for my children and their safety.




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Child Abuse Story from Beckah

by Beckah
(Location Undisclosed)

I was adopted when I was seven years old, they placed me in a home where the family had two biological sons ages 14 and 15. They also adopted my two biological brothers who were 8 and 9. After two years of what seemed like finally finding a family, they adopted again. This time two girls and a boy ages 6,6, and 7. The moods changed with the mom complaining about all of the adopted kids being liars, thieves, and sex addicts. Their sons had actually been allowed to abuse my 11 year old brother from the start by physical abuse, to verbal, and finally pouring bottles of hot sauce down his throat. The second set of adopted children had two very emotionally disturbed children, both of whom spent everyday being told they were stupid. At 10 I became her focus and she would make excuses up as to why I needed to be beat repeatedly with a fiberglass hot wire fence post. I told some family friends her younger biological son had been touching me since I was 7, she made me write 5000 times " I will not lie" her son approached me in the barn later and said " I told you not to say anything" he repeated the sexual abuse several times until I was 17 and ran away from their home. I was told I was just a hard child to love, I was not allowed to attend public school because the adoptive parents said we would only tell people lies. They adopted there third set of siblings when I was about twelve, two girls and a boy ages 1,2, and 3. They again had emotional issues, but overall were just babies. I was stubborn and can admit that, the mom telling everyone I was a liar, and continuously beating me trying to dominate me only worked to produce a bitter and unwilling to bend child. I held on to the hope that she may except me one day, but I am now 31 years old and the only interaction we have had over the last ten years has ended with tears (from me) we had officers, CPS, and the case workers in that home, and yet when 9 children repeated word for word the same story, still no one questioned it or believed it. I prayed everyday someone would see my bruises or believe me, but the stigma that all foster children are liars was the reason I never got any help. My adoptive family never have had to answer for the abuse they bestowed upon nine different children. I do not trust many people with out seeing actions because of how many words were spoken to me as a child that were false. I have since ran into adults who attended 4-H, and Church with us who have asked were you kids abused and then answered with "we thought so". I tried to tell and no one listened. I begged for help and no one came. I have held my scars alone and thought church and my husband's parents have finally come to enjoy and know the real meaning of Love and Family, however many of my siblings did not fare as well as myself, and to this day, as adults they struggle with attachment issues, drugs, and drinking.




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Child Abuse Story From Nikki

by Nikki
(Illinois, USA)

My most recent nightmare was the most realistic and was almost exactly how I remember it happening.

I was getting ready for bed. I don't remember how old I was, but I think I was about five. I just remember getting my pillowcase dress on that Grandma J-- made me. We had a babysitter that night. I don't remember his name, but apparently he was in high school. He came in to put me to bed. I was putting on my pull-up. I had a bedwetting problem. When I was putting it on he said, "Why don't you try big girl undies tonight?" I was excited since mom never let me try that. So I said yes. And when I was putting them on, he told me that most big girls don't wear underwear when they sleep. I wanted to be a big girl, so I asked if I could try sleeping without underwear on. He said if I wanted to try it, then I could. So I put my underwear away and got into my bed. He left for a minute to put my sister to sleep. I heard him telling her that if she got out of bed he would tell mom that she wasn't a good girl. She promised to stay in bed, and I guess she fell asleep pretty quickly. He came back to my room and asked if I liked having my tummy rubbed to help me fall asleep. I said yes. He had me turn onto my back and started rubbing my stomach. My eyes were closed and I was about asleep. Then his hand went lower. He had already lifted up my nightgown so he could get to my stomach. He started rubbing me between my legs. It scared me and I jumped a little bit. He rubbed my shoulder with his other hand and told me everything was okay. He was just going to show me how much he loved me and that I was his favorite. So I just layed there. He unzipped his pants and I got scared. I knew boys and girls had different parts but I also knew we weren't supposed to share those parts. He put his "boy parts" all over me. He never put it inside me though. He took my hand and made me touch it. And the whole time I just cried as quiet as I could so he wouldn't get mad at me. He jumped up really quick and zipped up his pants and told me to go to sleep really fast and that I couldn't tell anyone about this or I would get in trouble and I couldn't be his favorite anymore. He left my room and I got out of bed and put a pull-up on because I thought my mom might get mad if I didn't have one on and I climbed back in bed. I curled up and tried not to cry and go to sleep really quick, but I couldn't. My mom came in and asked why I was crying (I've had a lot of night terrors) and I said I had a bad dream. She rubbed my back until I fell asleep.

I've never written that out before and I've never said it out loud. This is the best I can do for now. I have more memories that have been coming lately, but I'm scared to write about them or talk about them. I don't even talk to my counselor about these memories. I just can't do it. Everyone wonders what's going on with me and why I can't seem to just be happy. So many more reasons, but I just can't get him out of my head. I wish I knew his name. I wish I remembered his face. But all I remember is his hands. Only his hands. And to this day, I hate when people rest their hands on my legs. I hate people touching my thighs or anywhere near them. I don't like having my stomach rubbed. I love having my back rubbed like my momma did. But not my stomach.

Sometimes I just have dreams of hands. And I feel them all over me and grabbing at me and touching me.

Sometimes I have no dreams. Those are my favorite nights.




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 Undisclosed143

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

My story begins as a young girl. I remember when he would baby sit me and my brother while my mother worked. I saw him at family gatherings as well. He seemed to be eveywhere I was. At 3 I remember his abuse. I remember him touching me in ways I felt uncomfortable. He would drive me in his car starting at age 6 and would let me drive on his lap while I steered the car and he got sexually aroused. I would scoot off his lap and say nothing. He didn't either. He seldom talked really when he would molest me. I remember he made my brother take pictures of he and I, the things he would make me do to him.

I felt almost sick daily. I hated getting off of the school bus because I knew what was waiting for me on the other side of the door! I cried a lot. I even told. NO ONE would listen. Alone is how I felt. I felt violated all over again.I would tell on him and nothing was done. It was swept under the rug in the 70's and 80's. I honestly remember being 7 and 8 years old hiding from him at night in my grandparents backyard. I wasn't afraid of the dark at that age, I was deathly afraid of him! I hated him! I hated anything to do with him, but as family gatherings came and went it seemed it was the norm. I mean I had told half the family! NO ONE HELPED! As I was going on 10 yrs old it really hit me that this was a family secret-a family shame and I was to be submissive to him regardless because no one was talking about it but everyone knew it and continued to let him touch me and me touch him sexually -I would beg him to STOP!

At 11 years old my own mother walked in on it. She turned around and walked out.

She claims she didn't know anything about it and no one else did. I cried! My SMA was abusing me since I was a tiny baby into the age of 13.

All of my life basically he touched me almost daily, and he enjoyed these acts! I later in life distanced myself from him and my family. I got my own individuality and began having friends, going places being a teenager and it all went away except when now in the present my mother brings my abuser up in conversation.

My SMA is my mother's brother. He is now dying of cancer so I am told which I honestly do not care. (sorry! but it is truth- my truth) for maybe all the things he done to me that are unforgivable and the other kids/children he has touched we will have JUSTICE! I know that he was divorced three times because of his abuse to other children. Which is honestly sickening! He has gotten away with all his raping/molesting children to this day! Sad!

I wanted to share my story because I lived sexual abuse in many forms as a child and as a teenager and as a adult. I have the wisdom to know my life will go on and in a positive way. My past has made me wiser and more loving toward others because I would never hurt anyone especially a child in a abnormal abusive way as has been done to me. No eye for an eye, just justice towards all is what I think. I believe we all get what is coming to us eventually.




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 Undisclosed145

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

No One Believes Me: 
My partner is a very nice man, but he comes from a very dysfunctional family. His mother had him when she was 15, and lived happily with his father, until he died in a car crash when he was 3.

His mother left him to the father's parents for an unknown number of years, and then she became involved with another boy from her school. She has never spoken about the death of my partner's father to him, or to anyone else, since the terrible day that he died. Soon, after her first partner's death she became involved with the new partner. No-one talks about how they met, but when I searched on the net, I found that he had been in the same rugby team as my partner's father, when they were in their early teens, just around the time that my partner's mother would have been pregnant. I found this very surprising! The new dad knew the original dad, and they played sport together on the same team. I have always wondered why would this young, handsome man become involved with someone who was the widow of his team-mate with a 3 year old? To me, it seems that he was already working on someone that was vulnerable.

Now, 52 years later, this man has fathered 5 boys, 4 to his wife, and one to his lover. The lover's child is ignored, and the known youngest child, who is 17 now, was given to the paternal grandparents to raise, when he was two. That child has lived his whole life in another country, away from his parents, and the two times I have seen him in the presence of his mother, she has little to do with him. The mother and father raised the middle two boys, with the help of aunties, sisters and grandparents. The second youngest has already been charged with a myriad of criminal offences, the most extreme, he was accused of rape of a 17 year-old girl. My partner, who was not a child of this man, grew up with the aunties and parents of his father.

Although at times, the whole family lived together. I feel so sorry for my partner as he has never known the feeling of a nuclear family, in the way that I do, although culturally, it may be different for him. In addition, this family have revealed to me that they believe that they live beyond the law, and culture and fineness their lifestyle with lies, and fabrications of the truth, giving qualifications to other family members holding the same names, and cheat the government system for cheap housing that is only supplied to disabled pensioners.

However, my partner sees that his step-dad is his father, and because this is the only man that he has ever known as his father, he loves him. This is pitiful, because I can see how this step-father treats my partner so entirely different from his other sons. It makes me feel sad and angry! All my partner wants is love and acceptance, but it is only half given by the step-father, and little by his mother, and when I have brought this to the attention of my partner, he has denied this and acted defensively.

So this background brings me to tell the real story. Three years ago my partner and I gave birth to a beautiful, little girl. We lived in a city where I knew no-one except for them. I am an older mum with no qualifications, and at the time of my pregnancy, I was working in a professional situation that required me to gain a university degree to keep my job. This was a welcomed challenge, and I was prepared to do the work. During my pregnancy, the stepfather offered to look after my baby while I continued my studies. He was incapable of working due to having a bad heart. I know that this sounds strange! How could he not be capable of working but be able to look after a little baby? However, he assured us that he was capable, and we believed him. So, after my baby was 3 months old, I left her in his care when I went to university part-time.

Then, in my next semester, which I had decided to do full-time, the grandmother called me one day, and asked me if I wanted to work for the electoral role for 3 weeks full-time. I said no, as I was going to uni, and she told me that if I didn't want to take the job her husband would.

I told her that I wasn't looking for a job at all because of my university commitments and she then told me that was okay because her husband would take the job if I didn't want it. I was shocked! The arrangement had always been that the step grandfather would look after my child because he couldn't work, and suddenly there was a weird scenario where I was offered a job, that I would never take, and that he would take it. I was left with no child care and a full-time schedule at uni. Luckily, for me, I found that the university had a great childcare facility that accommodated my needs, due to duress. However, I was very disappointed in the family arrangements.

As it turned out, the step-grandfather over exerted himself during his 3 week stint of employment and ended up in hospital with pneumonia. I was actually glad of this. He is a very bad man.

That gets me to what happened last year, just one month before my little girl's 2nd birthday. The man had recovered from his hospital stint, and had offered to look after my daughter on Tuesday nights whilst I was at lectures until 9 o'clock. Lectures started in March.

One night, in March, I came to collect my baby, and the grandmother told me that I didn't have to bath my daughter that night. I told her thank you, and she said, "No, don't thank me. When I came home tonight I found your daughter in the bath with her grandfather!" The step-grandfather was there, and looked at me. When I asked him if this was true, he turned and looked at his wife and started talking about the food that I had made the night before for my partner's dinner, and he went into great description of the methods that I had told him about.

He made a direct distraction method, and avoided answering my simple question. He started talking so loudly, about the pasta dish, avoided all eye contact with me, and completely blew me off my course of questioning. It was so out of the norm for this man to even converse with his wife about food. I was so shocked, and confused by his distractive methods, that I couldn't get a word in.

Since then, I have observed that this man has been using grooming techniques on my child right in front of my eyes. Secrets told to teddy bears in front of me, candy, gifts, tickles, over-the-top affection, hands between her little legs, fingerprint bruises on her chubby thighs, playing in bedrooms with closed door, showing of unknown photographs to my child, all whilst we as parents have been around, and now I think I am stupid, gullible and accommodating, just because I respected his authority as the male patriarch, observing social norms, I have allowed this creepy man do this stuff to my child.

Please let me tell you that I am a very intuitive person, and by no means dumb, but this creep had me fooled for quite a while.

Now, however, no one believes me when I express my distaste at his bathing event, or the other creepy things that he did with my child. I have researched a lot and believe that I have found evidence that he had been grooming my child for sexual abuse. I can see it in every interaction that has taken place in the past, and it is still evident now, even though we have moved to a different state, because of my hidden agenda to get away from him.

My partner calls me crazy, paranoid, and has threatened me with violence because of my beliefs that his stepdad is a pervert.

I don't really love my partner anymore, and have found that we don't have any common interests except for our daughter, yet, he is incapable of recognising that his step dad may be the biggest risk to her ever. Now, the grandparents are offering to pay for our trip to visit them, next month, and I am thinking that we can go, but I want to call them before the visit and establish specific rules and guidelines for interaction with my child.

Tonight, my partner went wild at me, after I posted something on his Facebook page about the threats of secrets to children, child grooming facts and questioning if it is appropriate for a grandfather to bath with his granddaughter. He threatened me with punches and violence, whilst I was holding our child. He told me that I was sick and demented to think that his father had done anything wrong, and questioned why I was holding on to paranoid beliefs.

My partner got so mad about the expressions of safety that I posted, and let me tell you, I have not made any direct accusations, that he has threatened to leave me, and then insisted on telling my parents that I am mad. My father sat down with him, listened it out, came back to get my point of view, and concluded that I am overreacting, and should apologise to my partner. My own father denied that this behaviour could happen. He said "How could someone do that to a 2 year old, you are over-reacting. Maybe, you should see a doctor, I am worried about you!"

I don't think I'm paranoid!




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 Undisclosed146

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

Groomed but not Abused??? 
My uncle started taking a big interest in me around the age of 11/12. He was and still is a manipulative man. The way he controls his own family life is very odd. His own children have mental health issues eg suicide attempts. But for the fact he used to get me over to his house and give me alcohol and cannabis joints. After this happened a few tines he would then put pornographic movies on and leave me alone In the room.. on one occasion I found a camera recording from the cupboards. He also showed me sex toys and that I could use them as they were washable.

I am now 26 years old. I only just told me family. My aunt is unsure if I am telling the truth. My cousin her daughter doesnt belive a worsdof it. Her father manipulates her so much that even her own boyfriwnd will not go around as he doesnt like the strange relationship they have.

I feel lost, as tho this was not anything I should have told them about but I have serious concerns about the other female children in our family.

Also I feel as tho I shouldnt have mentioned anything as he never physically put a finger on me.




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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed147

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

I Can't Stop Thinking About the Past: 
Lets see...My brother and I were sexually abused. I was 2-5. Not forced but tricked into oral sex with my moms boyfriend who I thought was my dad. My mom finally left him not even for this reason. She was completely clueless by the way. When we moved across the country with my grandparents and mom I was heartbroken. I was so attached to this guy I called, "papa". At the age 8 was when I met my "real" dad. I hated him and I think it was because I felt like he was trying to replace who I thought was my real dad. Anyways...the whole experience of being sexually abused turned me into a horny freak. Things I am not proud of and I pray every day for God to forgive me. At the age 5 I was humping pillows, 8 is when I realized what had happened but I don't think I thought it was completely wrong. At the age 10-13 I hid sexual movies from my mom, by this time my mom was remarried to my step dad which was a drunk and recently now brain damaged. I would barge into my mom and stepdads room while they were having sex to stop them, I'd even make distractions like lock myself out of the bathroom and pee myself....anything to make them stop. I hated the sound of it because there was only a thin sheet of dry wall between our room. I even saw my stepdads butt while they were having sex and I am scared but that was my fault...anyways I waited past 10 years since my incident as a little girl because I know that you couldn't file reports that happened 10 years ago(my mom knows a lot of laws) Since I was sexually abused I was sexually active since I found out what the word blow job was in 6th grade. I have also touched my cousin who is the same age as me and I feel like I am the reason he is sexually active. At one point as him and I got older we almost had sex...one time in my life I kept waking up with my underwear on the other side of the room and one night I woke up to a different older cousin humping me! I am still really close to my cousins today we have grown up but it is a bit awkward to think about. There is a another moment I have wanted to see my 2nd cousins private....I was about 14 and curious but I have a feeling he may have been scarred. I feel so guilty because I am like the man who ruined my life. And knowing I'm just as bad as him makes me hate myself. Please don't judge me and I am sorry for ranting about this. I got off topic I think I am more sexually active because of the abuse not because of hearing my mom and stepdad. I wouldn't have looked at it the same if I were never touched as a child. And I am sorry for all the people who have experienced the same problems I am going through...




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 Undisclosed148

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

My story go back as far as I can remember my father was. A. Alochlic and a drug atic and he would go to a bar ever single night for years and some night when he got home s**t would hit the fan. He would come up stairs and drag me out of bed by the hair. Coause dishes wernt done for some so stupid the he would make me do what ever he wanted done. While he trashed the kicthen. Brakeing every thing in his path. Ect. I would get hit over and over so did my mum then have to get up for school in the morning I felt safe in school I dint want scool to ever end. I wanted so bad to tell some one but I was too scaird to. Till this day. I have a hard time talking about it. I'm going to tharphy. And. It ok. Hard but I want to get over this mountain.




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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed149

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

Why Move Me: 
I don't know when the bruises started, i only know when they stopped. I screamed like hell when i was taken away from my parents.
Then my life began, Mary and Steve fostered me. You cannot possibly imagine what i was like, just been dragged away from my parents and placed in a home i knew nothing about. I was angry and i probably destroyed their entire house at some point but they never gave up on me. For my 18th birthday i gave both Mary and Steve 7 Roses each with a message saying thank you for loving me. One rose for each year i have been with them. Those roses are going to cost me a fortune in years to come. Mary and Steve (my real mum and dad).




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Child Abuse Story From Wendy G

by Wendy G
(England)

I was sexually abused from the age of six by my father he abused me for six years and took my childhood away. I am now 52 years old and have suffered for 43 of these years iv'e took overdoses seen quite a few phycologist and counsellors and am just starting to try and take my life back. I have had a failed marriage and relationships, my ex-husband mentally and physically abused me. My other relationships ended in me abusing them because that's what I thought a relationship was all about. I drank a lot, where I would black and blank every thing out and physically attack them to the point were they could not take any more. this was all because of my father, this is what I believe. Every Saturday he would shout me in when my mum went out, it was never my other sisters always me and in one way I am glad it was me I was the oldest sister and I don't think they could of coped. It started with him touching me, and him telling me I was his special little girl and this was our secret, my mum said that from the day I was born he said I was his special girl and so I think he started to single and groom me from an early age. By the time I got to 10 and 11 he was having full sexual intercourse with me this was every night, it didn't matter whether he had drink in him or not when he did I had the smell of alcohol on his breath, breathing all over me which took him longer to have sex.

Yours sincerely
WENDY G




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Child Abuse Story From Temperance

by Temperance
(Connecticut, USA)

Emotionally Abused: 
I'm 22 and trying to "fix myself," so I can move on with my life. I'm very lucky to have an incredible therapist and receive disability payments so I can focus on my physical health and rely less on my parents.

I'm on the autism spectrum, mostly sensory issues. The best way I can explain that is my brain interprets sensory info more intensely and in a different way. If someone lightly touched my arm, my brain registers pain. Sounds are particularly upsetting and can startle/scare me. I have ADHD and can be easily distracted by sensory stuff as well.

I'm the youngest of 4 girls. When I was born, my sisters were 8, 6, and almost 2. My dad worked 9-5 as a lumber salesman and my mom worked as an elementary school librarian. At some point during my childhood, she also worked at Walmart some nights for extra money. We lived comfortably enough, always had food, celebrated birthdays and holidays, etc. My sister that's 2 years older is bipolar and would hurt me and torment me when we were kids. She'd try to control/manipulate me and alienated me from the other kids in the neighborhood. We had a complex relationship because we shared a common enemy, our mom. In the present, I greatly sympathize and empathize with that sister. She's currently in a worse place than I am (I'm stable, but not happy) and I've actually become protective of her. I don't blame her for anything she did to me as a kid because it wasn't her responsibility to keep me safe (and I wasn't always the best sister).

My dad is autistic, too, but he'd never admit it. His main issue is not being able to empathize with people. And I mean is truly not able to fully understand people's emotions if they aren't the same as his. It is not a choice. However, he is able to see that not everyone is like him. Even though he can not feel what we feel, he refuses to accept that our feelings aren't wrong. He refuses to address these feelings and instead writes them off. Growing up, he was my favorite parent because he didn't yell. I was always trying to please him and use his wisdom to better my life. As an adult, I realize that he never really took care of me. He was never around for the bad times and even after years on mental health meds, several suicide attempts and self harm incidents, being institutionalized and my sister going through the same crap, he won't admit that there's anything "wrong" with our family or that anything bad happened. He just puts on a goofy smile acting like everything's ok. He never listened to me, helped me through problems, defended me from my sister, etc.

My mom was the true abuser. She constantly belittled me and critiqued every little thing about me. She obsessed over making me act and look perfect by her standards, but her standards constantly changed and perfection is impossible to achieve. If she felt insecure in public, she'd make up a new rule or whatever to put blame on me, saying that I was embarrassing her. She's a Jekyll and Hyde. She'd be enthusiastic, funny, light-hearted and caring in social situations with family, school people, authority figures, and at church, but then become a monster when it was just the family. She'd scream at me and make me sob and hyperventilate in complete terror, then scream at me more for crying. Once, she pinned me to the bed and put liquid soap in my mouth for crying, even when I was begging her not to and she was the one who made me cry. Any dream or idea I had was always ridiculous, had some sort of flaw. I wanted to be a pilot when I was 14, and her immediate response was "You can't handle the Air Force and your father and I are not going to pay for flying lessons!! (HUGE SCOFF)" If I ever had a problem, like I lost something, I couldn't let her know because she'd yell about something I did wrong which lead to me losing it (messy room etc) and then not help me find it.

Some memories...

I had bed wetting issues until I was maybe 6 years old. I don't remember what age this was, but I was potty trained and still wearing diapers to bed. She was fussing with me one night and said in a disgusted, rage-filled shocked and horrified tone "You're __ years old and STILL wearing diapers to bed?!?!?!?"

When I was roughly 11 years old, my cousin and his wife had a miscarriage and then lost their 3 yr old son within a year. I wasn't very close to them, but my bipolar sister and I went to the son's funeral with my parents. We were quiet, solemn, and extremely sympathetic and well behaved. When we were leaving my cousin's house after the funeral, my mom asked my sister and me if we "even spoke to my cousin" and we shook our heads. My mom then replied, angered, anxious and uber emotionally "So, what?? You came here just to miss a day of school??!!" My sister exclaimed "Mom!!" And my jaw dropped. My dad stepped in and said we came to show that we care, and our presence was enough (something to that effect).

I wanted to be in band in 5th grade. My choice instrument: the trumpet. After a ton of warnings from my mom about how much work it would be and how it was all my responsibility and asking several times if I was really sure, I started participating in band during recess. We were told by our teacher to practice at home every week, but when I wanted to practice, I was not allowed. It was too loud and it didn't matter if it was required. It was my fault for choosing the trumpet. I was terrified to go to band practice each week, thinking the instructor would know I didn't practice and scold me. I would be sick with anxiety every Thursday, actually on Wednesdays too. It was an emotional roller coaster each week. I tried asking my parents to let me quit, but they both insisted I stick it out. They put so much money into it and didn't want me to be a failure. They refused to listen to me and address the problem of not being able to practice. I'd sob for hours on Wednesdays and Thursdays, utterly terrified of school. I vividly recall writing my thoughts in my diary, making the words "I HATE THURSDAYS" very bold, and leaving my diary out, hoping my mom would read it and realize what she was doing to me. I finally stopped begging them to let me quit and flat out said I was going to in one final battle. I was known as a quitter from then on and it was brought up every time I wanted to try something new.

I have more stories that I'd like to vent, but have exhausted myself mentally for the time being. It's very liberating and relaxing to know others will read this and sympathize/empathize.




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 Michael

by Michael
(California, USA)

It was the year ending 1970 and beginning 1971. I was just thirteen and me and my brother were living with our grandparents. They took us in when my dad and mom split up. My dad met another women and she had two kids at the time so we just stayed with our grandparents. At thirteen, school was hard. There were kids at school who bullied me a lot and would chase me home. Sometimes they would take my bike or flatten my tires. One day they came after me in my alley where I lived when my friend that lived across the alley from me, his older brother came out and told the bullies to leave me alone, so they left. My friend’s older brother, well, we will call him LR. A few weeks later he was showing me a switch blade knife in the alley and asked me if I wanted to go for a cruise in his car. I said, "No thanks." He said he would hate to see anything happen to my grandparents and told me to go for a cruise. So I did. He did one cruise on Main Street and then he said he was going to go check out a field just outside of town where he worked changing irrigation lines for a farmer. He stopped the car and told me to get in the back seat. I asked why and he took out the knife and put it on the dash. He said it would be fun, so I did what I was told. He took down his pants and told me, well, you know and forced me to do that. I told him to stop so he made me get on my knees and then he did that. As I was crying, I told him to stop, it hurt and after he finished he said if you tell anybody you or your grandparents could get hurt. Yes, that’s right I never said anything. He took me for that ride six times over a six month period. Me and my brother lived in the apartment behind our grandparents home and it was just outside their backdoor. LR came over and was drunk and walked right in and was asking for me, and my brother told him to get out. It all stopped from that point on. Now hear me out, if I was not getting pushed around at school, I was getting a belt whipping from my step mom when we had to stay at my dad’s here and there so my grandparents could go somewhere, and then the sex abuse LR did to me. Now just a few things it had done to me just back then and there was a lot, but just to give you an idea: I refused to take showers at PE in school. Teachers took me to office and cornered me to find out why I was messing up in school. The bully tried to mess with me and when they grabbed me, I lost it and they paid. That thirteen year old kid "me" was changed forever. I gave up in school, I could not be around many people. I trusted almost nobody from that time on. Well, 29 years later I could not keep it to myself anymore so I told my wife and then I went to the police station and what was the hardest time in my life, I came forward. The police did a report and said they would look in to it. Well months went by and then years and I know they did not do anything so I put it away for 12 more years. I could not go back to the police in all those years. I felt like I had opened up to the right place and was slapped in the face. 12 years went by and I went back and told the police. I wanted to make another report. I told them the same story about his knife, his car, the stuff he said he would do and what he forced me to do. The officer found the old report and said the department did not do anything. No investigation and no interviews. Nothing was sent to the DA. I said he forced me to get in the car, he had a knife and raped me over a 6 month time and you did nothing. I was upset. The officer said he would check it out and wrote a new report. I went back down a short while later and the officer said they asked LR if he knew me. He said yes and he said he lived across the alley from me and told them he took me cruising, but that he did not do the other stuff. By the way, I see the man that did this to me two or three times a week around town. I’m a plumbing contractor and am all over town. He’s a drunk that still lives with his parents. I see him when he goes to get beer or a handy man job he will be doing to buy the beer, or I see him at some of his friend’s homes. It’s a small town. Picture that I see him all the time and I’ve never taken the law in to my own hands yet and the police said there is nothing they can do. It’s been too long. Last week after four more years I had just learned about the discovery law for what happen to me and went back to the police to see what could be done. When I asked about the discovery law and wanted to know why they did not do something, they told me something should have been done when I first came out sixteen years ago. They said not to worry about that and let’s see if we can do something now. I told them they can’t, it’s too late. The only chance I had was then and they let me slip through the cracks. My attorney told me the time to act was when I first came forward and it’s gone. I still to this day see the man that changed my life. I’m a good guy, hard worker, a company of my own, liked by all in our small town, but make no mistake, living with what happened never leaves you. It’s always there. If you knew me, you would never know. Only a hand full of people knows this. After going the right way, by the book with the law and all the years later find that nothing can be done. Taking matters in to my own hands, well, I don’t know! I’ve looked at that before and that’s a big question. I’m fifty five now and yes I go to work, take care of all my family, and go on with life and I hope his life ends before mine so I can stand over his grave and ask WHY? From Michael




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 Terri-lee

by Terri-lee/Dorothy
(N.S.W. Australia)

My mother and father had 7 children, in 1954 we were all removed because my mother had walk out and left 7 children with a drunk aged from 6 weeks to 7 years we were placed in a orphanage were I lived for 5 years unloved and beaten I did spend some holidays in foster care, when I was 6 years old my mother had another baby, then when I was 9 my sister and I went to live with my mother and step father, we were beaten by our mother sexualy abused by my step father at age 10 my 3 brother joined us by then our oldest brother was 14 he stared sexualy abusing me would beat me after year of abuse I went to the police at age 14 told them every thing ( I'm crying as I write this) all they did was return me back home and tell my mother and step father what I said, I was tied up and beat up bad, I ran away to another state when the police picked me up my mother was contacted she told them I was a tramp, I went to court put in a girls home for not being a vergin as a Dr examines me, I was given 12 months it was hell on earth isolation segregation abuse by men beaten up, so I played up so for playing up I was sent to goal at age 15 to hay only 10 girls there at a time staff 1 on 1 raped beat daily no eye contact no talking spent 4 months ( look up hay goal read about it 1961 opened closed 1972) then from there I was sent back to my home state into another institution till my 18 birthday, the day I turn 18 is the day they turned me out. I have so many scars physical and mental, I suffer from PTSD. Well that was my life growing up in Australia , my mother went on to have 10 children in total. She told me years later she has never loved anyone as for me she said I deserved everything that happen and said I got off lightly. Thank you mother for my life, I blame you first.




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Child Abuse Story From John

by John
(Location Undisclosed)

I have an older sister and two younger brothers, we were whipped a lot as kids, belts, switch,and a strap. I did not realize it was abuse, we thought it was normal. Our mother would whip us then have dad whip us again when he got home.
My wife did not realize how bad it was until I told her of my worst whipping, I stole my sister's panties, curious at 12 years old.
My dad came into my room and asked what I was doing with them, apparently my mother had found them, she was with him. I was scared and would not say, dad thought I had them to wear.
He told me to get undressed and made me take off my underwear, I tried to cover myself from my mother and he made me move my hands. He told me I had a "worm" and I was going to know it and he was going to teach me a lesson. He put my arms behind my back and started whipping my genitals with the strap. Every time I would fall down he would pull me back up and hit me again. I was bleeding and hurt bad, my mother walked away when I couldn't stand anymore. Dad made me get up and get on the bed, he turned me over and began to whip my back, butt, and legs. I hurt so bad from whipping my front I didn't really feel it. The next day my mother saw me, she made me go downstairs naked and stand in front of my father. She told him they would get in trouble if anybody saw me, they both told me to not tell or I would get another whipping. I was bruised, swollen and had hard welts for over a week.
My wife was shocked at the event and that I thought it was normal, I got my last whipping when I was 16. Thanks to my wife I did not have a bad life or become an abuser myself.




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 Kevin

by Kevin
(UK)

I'm 17 now, i posted sometime ago about what my brother was doing to me. I spoke to my history teacher at the time, you said i should speak to someone i trust. Mr D was there when i spoke to principal and he was there when i spoke to the police. My Brother was arrested along with my parents because i told Mr D that i had already told my parents and they did not beleive me. I told my parents a long time before i posted here . I told my parents when i was 12 or 13, i posted here when i was 15. Since then i have been on my own. Parents want nothing to do with me, i am still under their roof but apart from that i dont exist. I just do not know were to go from here. i want to move but i have no money.




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 and Jonathon M

by David M
(Great Britain)

hi.im david.im 45 years old and have a twin brother jonathan,we were put into care when we were just 6 months old,we were at many short term foster families up to when we were nearly 7 years old we were put in a permanant foster home in Dorset.England.we were scared and also exited to be with a new family as we didnt kno how our life would be with these new parents.they seemed friendly and smiley and very afectionate towards us.the first nite we were there we got a bit exited and at bead time a throw my belt over to my brother,our foster mum came in and dragged me out of bed litteraly by my hair,she knew it was me,she must have been listening behind the door.she dragged me into the lounge and closed the door behind us.she told me to strip naked.(i was in shock)i had my pygamas on.so i took them of.she told me to stand still and not move a muscle,(my head was hurting where she had pulled my hair out,and i wasnt comfortable being naked.she came back from the kitchen with a large bamboo cane,she told me to bend over facing the wall.i did as i was very scared.id never seen anybody like this before.she was very very angry.i bent over and felt the most painfull wack id ever felt,i screamed and i was out of breath.she beat me a dozen times,and then my hands with the same cane.the cane splintered and broke.i was in so much pain i couldnt move.she said to me, calmly "this is wot you can expect from now on,you are my son now.now go to bed ".i managed to drag my very sore red body to bed but i couldnt control my breathing and wimpering.i was in shock.so was jon who must have heard my screams.jon very scared and trembling asked wot happened.i couldnt answer....from that first day with this family we suffered on a daily routing of being beaten with canes and lumps of wood and sexualy asualted,but most of all the mental abuse,we were made to sit at the dinner table for hours before we were told we could get down.if we didnt eat all our food it was forced down our throts untill we were sick.then we had to eat that as well before we could leave the table.we were forced to share a bath with all 4 of us children in at one time.we had to eat our tea in the bath.jam sandwiches all the time.we were in the bath for hours.the water would be very cold.somebody wants the toilet.askes mummy.she sais no.he then poos in the bath.we are told to stay there in it.i need a wee now. eventually i have to do it in the bath also.after 3 hours we are told mummy and daddy have guests coming for dinner and we have to get out.but first we have to push the poo down the plug whole and scrubb the bath.we did.that happened quite often.as did a whole lot of abuse including doing all the house work and walking the dog and cleaning up his poo also,if morning came and i hadnt cleaned it up in time she would hold me upside down and rub my face in it.one occation making me eat it.i was sick and had to eat it again.we got beaten nearly every day.the days we didnt was because they had friends over or it was a noticable place or to public.i cant put all the terrible things down here as they are to agressive and to sexual or just to unbelievable to comprehend, but for 4 whole years we were subject to being beaten, tortured, sexually asaulted and mentally tortured every day.we still have the physical scares and indeed the mental scares.the 4 years we sufferd there were the worst time of our lives ofcourse and inflicted many problems eemotionally and physicaly through our childhood and adult lives.in fact it gets worse as we get older,we dont understand why,it makes it worse that 25 years later we took the abusers to court.3 years the case took.with one other witness who was also abused with us who we hadnt see since our very quik departure from the foster parents.never new who she was or where.the c.i.d found her and she made a similar statement after a long upsetting month debating it.She was very scared still.but our social worker said we were imagining the whole thing.she said that the girl was also.she told us we were rong and it was the best 4 years of our life,(we were 30 years old now but she said we were lying.we took them to court when we were 37 years old.it took ages but we had so much evidence we were sure that we could rest knowing justice had been done.we were rong !!!!!! we gave all our evidence and the jury believed us.how could anybody make this up after so long and has madicall records to show the trauma.we werent invited to hear our social worker give defence.but after reading her account we nearly had a heart atack.she lied on oath and told such unbelievable rubish.the judge throw the case out on the grounds that as it was such a historic case there was no way he could secure a conviction due to the historic age it all happened.the jury were up in arms.they heard 3 witnesses travel afair and stand for hours after waiting trail for 3 years.and they new we were telling the truth.the jury stormed out of court because the man at the top thought it should be...our lives and effort to live all these years meant nothing.nothing at all to anybody that could help us.still now we are trying to find the right channels to go down to try and put these evil sadist were they deserv.IN HELL where they belong.but we need help from a professional body or association that can show us how to do this.a sad story im sorry it doesnt have a happy ending yet.. but we live in HOPE.... David M




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 Jeff

by Jeff
(Location Undisclosed)

Damaged Goods: 
I am a survivor. I am not alone but I feel alone. I am 42 yo now but the abuse I suffered between 6yo and 14 yo defines my ability to interact socially. I suffer from depression and thoughts of suicide even now. It is shameful what an abuser steals. Literally the teat of your life. Even my dreams are poisoned. He should be dead for what he did I'm just not strong enough to kill the monster.




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 Ally

by Ally
(Ohio, USA)

My childhood abuse: 
I am 17yrs old...i just started getting memory's back. I have 3 brothers 2 older (one is 7yrs and one is 5yrs older, and they're my moms) the other 1 are my dad's who is maybe a year younger then me.(my dad cheated on my mom) i just wanted you to know some of my stories the memorys i have gotten back are about my sexually abuse i encounter at a young age.(i knew cuz my mom told me about my dad cuz we went thru court but i never remembered) Me and my brothers are best friends :) my older brothers spoil me rotten :) and my dad's son i don't see...What i have remember is too hard to believe: (at the age of 2 1/2-3 it started. When my mom went to work my dad would make me take clothes off and touch him and play with him.I remember my younger brother joining the "fun/game" since he isn't much younger then me ,he didn't know better.I remember my dad ask him if he was ready and that they have been rehuring for a wile now. The 1st day my dad raped me.I remember screaming for my mom or my brothers and no one came.My dad would hit me and if didn't do as he said. My brother would play with me at "playtime" if i didn't listen and do what he said my dad would hurt me physically or sexually. i remember i used to scream when my mom went to work i begged her to stay. she never did. One day when my 2yr old brother was playing with me my older brother came in and asked him what he was dong...and he joined him ,they would rape me & touch me together...then my oldest brother came in and started joining then. I just remember felling so alone and hating my mom and i only want to play dolls by my self cuz with my brother i could never do my own thing,it was always abuse). I remember my mom and dad getting in a physically fight ,and my dad taking me upstairs and telling me that he is happy i have "taken care" of him and how my mommy doesn't love me and that i should live with hm after they breakup ,The end course of the fight they both had to spent my night in jail ,my mom 1st(the night/day was the most sexually abusive,....it never ended ,I remember hatting my mom sooo much.I always asking why mom why (in my little head and thinking she hated me ) i told my grandam how mad i was at my mom ,my grandma asked my why(that's where it all come out) excepted my bothers(i remembered one brother telling the other they had to stop or they would be jailed). we went thur court ,he had supervised visitation(me,my dad & my youngest brother)my dad had custody of him) for a wile he could take me places, then over nights again.1 summer night after he meet a woman (promised my mom to watched me at all time witch she did). My dad came in my and my brother's room and raped me and helped me down...it was terrible. My brothers stopped abusing me together but they would by there self's. (we moved in a 2br 1 bth apt ,so they slepted on the couches on my moms weekend) then my dad would have weekend or take me to the park.I remember he took me to my school park(in kindergarten) and would help me climb (wile to toughed me)& that's why i am afraid of heights now.my brothers started abusing me again together.If i didn't listen they broke my toys.
i remember having anxiety and always wanted to sleep with my mom and would scream and cry & throw fits if she didn't tell me where she went 1st
I hated any guys figure...when i started kindergarten,i remmeber kissing and touching under the play ground cuz thats the only reson boys wanted me around,Right? i did 2 yr of kindergarden cuz i was so attahed to my mom .(they held me back)
My mom started (in the summer of kindergarten beating me cuz i was go crazy (i would pull my hair,throw fits,bang my head repetly)if she didn't tell me she was going in the kitchen and she started doing drugs at the time.My 2nd year in kindergarten my mom meet a man who she was engaged too(the beating stopped at this point).I remember he took me places and watched movies with me dressed ...her didn't like me like everyone ells did ;) i was attached to him
My 1st grad year(7-8) my brothers hurt me less and i remember one of them yelling at the other and saying how if they don't stop ,i will end up like this girl on tv and that they will be jailed. then my mom and Matt broke up.my cousin would come over alot .He touched me like my brothers did.But they where "look out". finally one of my brother's threated my cousin and told him to stop.In my brothers eyes he stopped ...until we moved in with my aunt...i would do it on my own,i didn't know any better...i remember we where about to do it the real (intercourse) and my other brother came home and called my aunt...i remember being grounded for a mouth and not knowing why?...now i do )i was in 2nd grade) ps my dad stopped seen me on an off.i remember touching my self at like 4yrs on still struggle to stop.
when i was like 5yrs old my mom meet this woman who had two boys, one 4 and one 7. we would tough and play kiss,get married all of thee above...we did this until my mom lost custody when i was 8 (wile in foster care,this nice kid asked me to church he tried to have sex with me in a stall...i said no but we went to his car and i gave him oral there and he said he loved me ,and i was his girl) in a half 9 cuz she tried to kill her self...but she got me back in two years.
when i was 11 in a half 12 we moved in with my mom new boy friend of 4mounths(he was in jail when we moved in) i stared on my 12th bday i remember calling sex call lines.
when i was 13 i meet a boy, A---,i tried to do things with him all the time and he told me NO and to respect my self...which i am great full for now;)...we moved again(we moved in with my moms best friend with the 2 boys) when i was 14 almost 15 ,that march is when I lost my virginity(willingly)...I had sex every where all the time...I slept with so many guys...some without consent who threatened to kill me if i said a word..they told me i wanted it.After that i left and stayed with a cousin...shortly after and found was i was pregnant.I only told my best friend, but I miscarried after being abused...i never reported it until last year(2012) when my church leader told me it would be a good way to be free,but since i only told 1 person my best friend she is nervous in front of cops my stories didnt add up,I go to school with one of the kids who raped me ,My ex works at the high school now and our parents are still best friends...so its hard.If it wasn't for my mom ,i don't know where i would be today,she is my best friend and has been by my side no matter what:) my youth leader has helped me more then she can imagine <3
My brothers are my idols. i have blocked this out for a wile but its not going to church out friendship cuz of how close we are now.My dad i havnt seen since i was 11 :)




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Child Abuse Story From Cathy

by Cathy
(Washington, USA)

I came from a very abusive home. My mom was a violent drunk that did not want a daughter had even told me as a young child that if she new I was a girl she would of gotten an abortion. Had to put this first so people would understand what happened.

It started when I was about 6 years old but I had 2 abusers. The first memory I have is taking a bath and my dad showed up to visit "he did not live with us" and he came in the bathroom starting touching me and masturbating.

Then when I was bad are more like my mom did not want me around she send me to my Aunt and Uncles house. I think I was 8 and my 2 cousins and I was playing outside and my Uncle kissed me but this time he put his tongue in my mouth. He preceded to touch me that night and made me touch him. My mom made me stay there that summer even though I begged to come home. That was the first summer he raped me and it continued the whole summer. I was finally able to go home and my mom found my bloody panties and through them away she had to now what was happening to me.

This continued on till I was 16 but I remember one time when he gave my cousin and I beer and he had been touching me all day when he got a chance. He went out and I drank 2 beers I was 12 at the time and my cousin was 10. He came home and we where both in bed and I heard him come in our room and he was standing there naked with a hard on so I pretended to be asleep hoping he go away but he didn't he pick up my cousin and took her to his room I could hear her crying so I went in there and told him to leave her alone he got up and slapped me and dragged me to his bed and he told me I was going to be sorry I came in there he rolled me on my stomach and had anal sex with me it hurt so bad I was begging him to stop but he just do it harder that night he had his way with both of us. The next day I ran away and he knew where I was going and called and told mom and she was at the bus station when I got there. I told her what had been going on but she said I was a sl*t and a w***e and asked for it then when we got home she beat me with a belt buckle.

My dad had molested me through the years but I never felt I could get help everyone knew what my Uncle was doing to us girls but no one stopped him.

I have a daughter now and I am over protective of her and if any man ever hurt her they would pick him up in a body bag.




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Child Abuse Story From Anonymous76

by Anonymous
(Australia)

It's midnight. I woke up from another bad dream and started crying. I can't help but keep feeling if it's normal to feel this way for such a long period of time. Almost a teen and my dad won't be there for my 13th birthday, as usual.
He misses most of my birthdays and the ones he is at, he's drunk and completely ruins it. Mum tries to make up for it by giving me more presents, but nothing can make up for having a dad like that. A dad like mine.
This is my second time writing about my life and I still don't feel any better. I fear that this relentless pain will never leave my weakened mind.
It hurts to see all my friends going around with their dads. None of them know what mine's like it's a "family secret" stuff secrets. I hate secrets. Secrets are what've destroyed this family in the first place.
Secrets and ignorance that is. Alcohol also plays a big factor. Let me give you an example of how much my dad pays attention to me. Once when I was 6, I think, I got a flu shot. My body didn't react well. I spoke backwards for two weeks. Every sentence I spoke was backwards. It freaked my mum out, but my dad, he didn't even notice. He didn't even realize. He never pays attention to me long enough to realize.
I'm sick of trying to be perfect. When I was 9, I got on TV!! I live in Australia and I got on Today Tonight by myself to sing Christmas carols! I did it just for my daddy. Did he notice. Nope. To this day he doesn't even know.
Bullies are getting meaner and meaner. They sense that I want my dad to pay attention to me and love me and tease me about it. They say things like "no wonder your dad hates you, you're an idiot" "I bet if you hung yourself your dad wouldn't even notice, test it out"
Words shouldn't hurt me after all I've endured, but they do. For the first time a few nights ago, I cut my arm. I'd vomited and passed out in the shower from being so weak because I can't eat from anxiety. I was so mad and I went and cut my arm. I told my mum that my dog scratched me.
She believed it. Now I want to do it again. I can see why it's addictive. I felt peace. I had control over my body for the first time in my life... But I promised myself I wouldn't do it again. Nobody should be doing this let alone a 12 yr old.
I guess I'll continue to suffer in silence. My earliest memory is waking up to the sound of my mum screaming at night as my dad did God only knows what to her. I can't imagine what I've got to look forward to in my future.
I'm addicted to music and books and writing. They're my escape, but my mother thinks it's "unhealthy" and keeps confiscating them. Well, it's either an escape and an outlet, or suicide. Her choice. No. I don't have the guts to commit suicide. Besides. I have a big brother that I need to stay on this earth to annoy. Actually, my brother and I have a really good relationship. I remember him reading me books when I was 9 and he was 12 and I couldn't sleep because Mum and Dad were screaming at each other. I also remember hiding in the closet together when Dad was on a rampage. He's addicted to music too. It's our way to get lost in other people's pain so we don't have to think about our own.
I still suck my thumb too. It's embarrassing and it annoys my mum because she thinks my teeth are going to go crooked, but they're perfectly straight. I think it's just a way to comfort myself. I've always done it. But I'm beginning to do it to the point were my thumb is getting so raw that the skin is peeling off. It helps to numb out the pain. Not just emotional pain, but physical injuries that my dad's done to me. These are just a few examples:
- He broke my wrist when I was 7
- He broke 2 toes standing on them at age 4.
- He dislocated my arm so badly the bone was sticking out when I was 5 or 6.
- He cracked my skull open twice at ages 2 and 5.
- He dislocated my shoulder last year.
- He broke my toe just yesterday.
- He forced me onto the ground and cut my stomach with a knife before pouring alcohol on it at age 9.
That's not even all of them and that's only me, there's also my 2 older siblings. I hope when I leave home life will stop being so painful.




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Child Abuse Story From Sharon A

by Sharon A
(Florida, USA)

I dont know where to began and I hope this will be beneficial to someone and to myself. I grew up in a adamently religious house of of 7 with my sick father who was a pastor and and my victimized mother and 5 children. I am 38 and still struggling with wheather or not it was child abuse, but I have 2 beautiful sons who I would never hit with a belt, belt buckle, extention cord or anything else and Ive found that it would take alot of anger or negative energy to do it, which is where I found my answere to whether or not it was child abuse. I can still remember the look in his eyes, the look of rage. Sitting on the side of my bed naked waiting for what would happen next, we would have to strip naked because he didnt want to hurt the clothing or he was afraid that the beating would not be severe enough. My mother would pray in the closet to a god that would never stop this monster. Once she tried to stop him and tried to use the phone to call for help, he ripped the phone line from the wall and threaten to beat her if she called for help. I can still hear my older brothers screams while he would beat him with wat ever he felt would do the most damage, a 2x4 piece of wood or extention cord. I dont know if we were brain washed or wat but noone in my family seems to see this as child abuse but me. I can remeber my little brother who was about 16 at the time he had beaten him so badly that his shirt would stick to the welts on his back. The same day one of the family friends dropped by and when leaving patted my brother on the back as if to say Ill see you later, when my brother flenched he asked wat was wrong, I can still see the terror on (I cant even call him my father) his face hoping that my brother would keep his derranged secrets. My father says that he never gave us a beating for nothing, we deserved everyone and he was just doing wat the bible told him to do. And now as an adult we struggle with so many issues; my brothers in and out of prison. I myself can not maitain relationships with men or friends, my sister is religious and believes that it was gods will. Am I crazy. I once asked him to gather the family so that we could see a christian counsilor, he replied by saying that we were terrible children and that we are the ones that needed to see a counsilor. And yes he is still pastoring a church. Is this what God ment when he said "spare the rod, and you spoil the child". My father once told me that "blacks dont discipline like whites, is that right? So black children have to be beaten to learn to understand to grow. I am sick of religious parents abusing there children with this sick passage from the bible to justify there actions and deny all responsiblity and accoutability for what happens to these children as adults. When will it stop! Now everyone is saying "Just get over it" or "That was in the past" but I struggle everyday. I just want some peace of mind. What happens to us, What about us. His favorite thing to say: I will beat the black off of you, or I'll knock you down or out. Is this what God is happy with. Is this what God is like is this truly his will. Because the way I see my father who claims to be a representative of God is the way I see God the Father. WHO WOULD WANT THAT KIND OF GOD AS THEIR FATHER.




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Child Abuse Story From Nancy L

by Nancy L
(Tennessee, USA)

{I was sexually abused by my mother from an infant until I moved out:] 
I am a 53 yr old woman. I grew up with an older sister who is almost 7 years older than I am. She was my hero, my angel and I followed her everywhere she went. I felt as safe as I possibly could with her, but of course she could not stop what was going on in our home. You see, my mother began sexually abusing me from the time I was a baby until I moved out, literally, without telling anyone. It was the only way I could be free....

Free from what you might ask? Could it really be "THAT" bad? Or could it? I was put in my sister's bed from the age of 6 months old and from that moment on our relationship was to protect each other. My mother created her own little perverse rituals that she did every Saturday night. Of course, I never knew exactly when I would be awaken from a deep sleep with my mother's hand in my panties. I learned at an early age to always sleep on my stomach, to make it harder for her to molest me! It did not work very often, but I still tried as hard as I could to keep her out of my underwear. It was confusing and I did not understand why she did this. I felt terrible shame and as I grew up it got worse. My sister and I created our own sign language when I was around 3 years old, so that we did not have to "talk out loud" where my parents could hear us.

My sister would often ask my mother what she was doing to me in the middle of the night. My mother would respond with, "I am checking to make sure her Hymen isn't broken". Neither my sister nor I understood what that meant and we were afraid to ask what it was. For some reason she used that and many other reasons such as "God told me to do this" and "all mothers do this" as her reason to rape me.

There was a lot of domestic violence in our family and that affected our lives as well. My father moved us often and I had no friends. My sister went off to college at the end of 5th grade in a different state, so I didn't see her often. I missed her terribly. The abuse increased because now no one was home. My dad had always worked several jobs, so now I was all by myself locked away with a mad woman.

My mother was very sadistic in the sexual abuse. She got pleasure out of making me hurt. It increased once my sister left for college and I just wanted to disappear. I had NO boundaries at home. I was not allowed to lock the bathroom door or bedroom door. My mother was addicted to bowel movements and things related to that. I felt like I was never going to survive living at home. I was a teenager and yet I was still fighting her off from insisting on bathing me! There did not seem to be an end to her abuse. It was on a daily basis.

My mother used enemas and other things similar to this in her abuse. I had no one to ask if all mothers did this. We were isolated and I was not allowed to spend the nights at other children's homes. So, I had no one to ask if all mothers did this. My gut feeling told me NO WAY!

I coped by cutting, beginning at the age of 7 and I read everything I could lay my hands on. I lived within the books that I read.

At the age of 3 my joints began to swell, but my parents refused to take me to the doctor. At the age of 5 and in first grade the school demanded that they either find out what was wrong or I could not go back. After many, many tests I was diagnosed with JRA (Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis). My parents still refused to treat my JRA, so by the time I was 19 my joints were failing. I had my first joint replacements at 19 and now I have had 54 surgeries!

I have gotten help for the abuse by my mother, but it was not easy. I was NOT believed and still today in 2013, people still do not understand the severity of sexual abuse by mothers. I hope that in time people will understand how damaging it is to children. I now work with abused children, teens and their families with CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates). I will continue to have more surgeries as my joints fail. I do not want my disability and abuse to define me, but I hope that in telling my story that I can be a lifeline to someone else who has been sexually abused by their mother. I know first hand the damage that is done by this 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 A Kid

by A Kid
(Location Undisclosed)

When I was about 7 I was physical abused by my Mother's boyfriend he would beat me while he was high on cocaine. He would beat me because He said that I'm only making you a stronger man. He would do this until my mom left him when I was 8. That's when I started living with my dad who HATED my mother's ex boyfriend. I forgave him because he was forced to do cocaine when he was little. He was addicted to cocaine for 6 years.




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 Jen

by Jenna
(Queensland, Australia)

Doing this hurts. It feels like I'm giving away a family secret, or embarrassing myself, but I feel I need to talk about it to make the hurt go away. I'd do anything to make the hurt go away, ANYTHING.

I'm the youngest of three children. My older sister is sixteen, but will never be normal. She has epilepsy, cerebral pulsy, profound deafness, brain damage, etc. She will never be able to walk, talk, jump, play, have children, get a boyfriend, get a job, or even think a thought. People call her a retard and say I'm a retard because I'm related to her, but I love her so much.

My dad is an alcoholic. He hurt me so bad and continues to hurt me and my fifteen year old brother. I'm only twelve, but because of what my dad has done, I can't trust people. I don't have a single friend. I don't trust my mother or father. I hate that my mother let me be born, knowing what my daddy would do to me, knowing he would take my innocence at such a young age.

I remember growing up to be strange, I would ask questions people wouldn't answer, I would do anything to know the answers. I always seemed to know way more about sex than the other children. I would wonder why I wet myself and sucked my thumb until I was four, and still suck my thumb. I would wonder why I always threw tantrums when I was at home or around my dad, I could never figure out the answer until a couple nights ago.
I saw a child abuse story on the internet. I guess that triggered it for me. I started having dreams and flashbacks about my dad taking me in the shower with him, touching me in places that I wasn't supposed to be touched in. I was only one- to four at the time. I was so innocent and didn't know what he was doing, all I knew was that it hurt and I didn't like it, but he bribed me not to tell mummy with McDonalds and he would buy dollies, or he'd be more harsh and threaten to kill me or hurt me if I told anybody what he was doing.

The sexual abuse stopped when I started pre-school, but I kept having dreams about "the mean man in the shower" until I was nine. I had a normal childhood, apart from the daily verbal and emotional abuse I would receive from both parents. Sometimes my dad got so drunk he would beat me and my brother up, this would happen around once every week. He would kick us, hit us, punch us and tell us to stop being sissies and hit him back. My brother did a couple times, but that just got him hurt more.

On my tenth birthday it got really bad. I had lost my bird earlier in the day. My bird was the only one I could trust, the only one, apart from my brother, that I could speak to openly, cuddle when I was scared and my daddy was drunk.
I also had a vomiting bug. It was going around school at the time, so it wasn't a surprise I got it. My mother also forgot that it was my birthday BTW.

It was around eight o'clock when the fighting started. I had vomited on the kitchen floor with my dad standing right in front of me. He didn't seem to care I had vomited, and continued packing the dishwasher without getting me a change of clothes or anything. My mother came in and saw me vomiting, then saw my dad standing there like nothing was going on. She didn't shout because she knew what a temper he had, but she calmly explained that when your child is vomiting, the right thing to do would be to assist the child and get a change of clothes ready.

That was the spark that lit the almighty fire. I remember my daddy throwing dishes, plates, cups, knives, at my mum and me and screaming his head off. My sister was asleep at the time, so I ran upstairs to my brother. He gave me one of his shirts to change into and we sat there, listening to the fighting, cuddled together and hoping our daddy wouldn't turn his anger on us. My brother was clutching a baseball bat, I was clutching the telephone, then at about eleven o'clock my mum shouted up to us "Kids, call the police, your father's hitting me" my mother hadn't received the beatings me and my brother got on a weekly basis and hadn't seen the beatings (and we always had to tell her we got the cuts and bruises from wrestling or playing football) so the physical abuse was surprising to her.

I immediately called 000, but the lines were dead. My brother told my mum the lines were dead and my dad shouted up "I cut the lines, we don't need the fu***** police here," this wasn't new to my brother and me, but my mother decided things were getting out of hand and took me and my brother to the police station, deciding to leave my sister alone with HIM since he was blocking us from getting to her. The next thing I knew, it was one in the morning, I was sitting in a policeman's office being asked questions about all my cuts and bruises and what my personal details were between puking on the floor and my clothes.

The police told my father he had to leave the house until the trial or whatever, I can't remember exactly what happened, but he didn't. The next day, my sister had a seizure early in the morning, my mother didn't have time to wake me and my brother up and get us all in the car, so she drove my sister to the hospital. When I woke up, I found the house empty apart from my brother. I immediately thought my dad had done something to them, considering he had a gun. I woke my brother up, but he told me to calm down, that there was probably a reasonable explanation.
He made me breakfast and we started watching the TV while making make-do posters for my missing bird. Then I heard the door open and close. I ran over, expecting to see my mum and sister, but when I peered over the stair railing I saw my dad standing there, looking furious and there was something in his eyes that led me to believe he was on a mission.

My dad had not yet seen me and my brother, so we hid in the closet. My dad left ten minutes later after not being able to find us, after that, my mum moved us to the other side of Australia, away from him.

I'm almost a teenager now and am curious to know why my daddy doesn't take me camping, take me to the park, kiss and hug me, isn't there to see every milestone I achieve, why he isn't there at all. My mother has been open to me about what he's done, she says when me and my siblings were younger, my dad would pull her out of bed and hold the gun up to her head, threatening to kill her, but she couldn't scream because me and my siblings were the only ones in the house and she didn't want to scare us. I remember getting similar treatment, but never telling my mother.
My mother said she was never able to leave because if she left, my father would stop paying child support, and she needed that money for doctor's appointments for my sister, to pay hospital bills for my sister, basically to keep my sister alive.

Neither me or my brother have talked about our experiences to anybody, including our mother. My mother's thinking about moving us back to live with dad since he's apparently been sober for two years now, yeah right, heard that one before. If we move back over, my brother and I have both agreed we'll be going straight to the police.
My daddy, the one who is supposed to protect me and love me the most, has betrayed me and hurt me in ways I can not express. I will never know what it is like to be a "daddy's girl" to be "daddy's little princess" to know that if anyone tries to hurt me, my daddy will make them pay. But despite this, I will not let my father, (no longer my daddy, but just a man in my life I have to learn to accept) hurt me in any other ways. I will not let him ruin my life like I have heard happen to other people. I will continue to be strong, continue to volunteer in the hospital and help other people and continue to see true daddies come through those hospital doors, sobbing hysterically and scream-praying that their child will be OK.

This is my story, it is something I must learn to accept, but never let happen to my child, or any child I know.




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 Alyssa

by Alyssa
(Ohio, USA)

Coming to Know the Truth: 
Some nights it was hard to close my eyes and simply fall asleep. I told myself over and over, I had to stay awake. I had to protect my parents from themselves: I didn't want to wake up to both my parents lying dead on the floor. However, only being a young child, about 8 or 9, my eyelids grew heavier and heavier. I started to lose control over my body and drifted off to sleep. The screams of the present started to fade away, however the screams of a couple days before filled my dreams.

I was reliving the nightmare of watching my mother get pushed down the stairs; hearing her cries and the horrifying screams of my father. I just stood there, frozen in fear. My father was fed up with life and started to yell at my mother that he wanted to die. He went for the butcher knife. But suddenly, I was woken from my dream by the screams of the present.

After the initial scream that woke me, everything went silent: Something wasn't right. I climbed out of bed to ‘spy’ on them and see what was happening. I was almost at their bedroom door when I heard a pounding noise and my father screaming at my mother to “shut up”. My heart started racing, I couldn't breathe. I ran into their room to find my mother below my father on the bed with the butcher knife in his hand, raised up high. He was going to stab her! He was going to stab her! I screamed at the top of my lungs and cried out to them: “Stop it!” All I wanted was for it all to stop.

Fortunately, both my parents survived that night. Unfortunately, that was only the beginning of many, many more fights to come, many more nightmares and many more sleepless nights.

However, the daytime was just as dreadful. I love my parents, don’t get me wrong, but I lived in fear about being punished for any mistake I made. I thought this was all normal; being stripped of my clothing and being beat with the belt (or any other object nearby), or being locked in my room for an entire day and given the ‘silent treatment’. I never knew which one was worse. Either way I always felt sick to my stomach, but even vomiting required a punishment; eating your own vomit to be exact. However, nothing was worse than the constant yelling and fighting. I’m surprised my neighbors never heard or at least didn't do anything about it.

But here I am, 23 years of age. I am alive and well, but I still deal with the nightmares and I constantly worry about my parents. However, I am stronger now and that is because of my faith, friends, and internal strength. I have been going through the healing process with the help of my friends. I understand that what happened to me was not normal and I am worthy of being loved and respected! It was definitely God that kept me live through all those years and I am glad that he led me to the friends I have today.




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 Stefanie

by Stefanie
(Michigan, USA)

Babysitter and Uncle: 
When I was 5, in order to get cereal, with no milk may I add, I had too sit on my 17 year old sitters lap and let him fondle me. This went on forever, and I felt guilt, because I exchanged my body for the cereal. Then, at age 7, my uncle began to watch me bathe. Everyone in the family knew he was a pedophile, and turned the other way. Eventually, he masturbated me while my brother and I were playing a Atari. I became a compulsive masturbater, and felt great shame. My family turned on me, and I was called a sl*t. Not to mention the damage it must have done to my brother, who quietly played the game against me, acting like he did not see my uncles hands in my pants. Another occasion, I was in bed, he snuck in, and did something to me, I cannot be sure , but it felt like sex, I bled, that is how I know. I am now a married mom of three beautiful kids, Jesus has gotten me through some real hard times. Sadly though, my 12 year old daughter is showing signs of having been sexually abused. I currently have her in therapy, they suspect bipolar, but I am very uncertain, 8 months ago she was an angel, and now, she talks dirty, took dirty pics of herself, wears gobs of make up, listens to anti christian music. I am so much more worried about her than anyone but God can know. Pray for my daughter.




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Child Abuse Story From Anonymous75

by Anonymous
(Location Undisclosed)

I've never done this before. I'll admit, it's scary to talk about it. My whole life I've had it drummed into me over and over again "don't tell anybody, it's a family secret" "don't tell anybody, you'll get us all in trouble" but I'm hurting very badly and right now, I'm willing to do anything to stop it, even talking about it in hopes my pain will stop.
I'm 12 years old. I'm the youngest of four, six if you count my dead siblings. My oldest brother is only my half-brother, he's thirty and he has 2 kids. Then there's my sister who died of SIDS, I also have a twin brother who died of SIDS. My other siblings are my sis who's 16 and a bro who's 15.
I've been abused in every way possible. I've only ever told 2 people: my aunt who died of cancer and my best friend since pre-primary who committed suicide a couple weeks ago.
Let's start with my dad, as most abusers, he's an alcoholic. He's physically, mentally and emotionally abusive. He's been that way since my 16 y/o sister was born, but my mum won't leave because my sister has tons of disabilities and could drop dead at any moment if she doesn't get the medication that she needs, the medication that my dad is currently paying for and will stop paying for if Mum leaves him.
Mum's neglectful and emotionally and mentally abusive. Most people would think that I'm just a "rebellious teenager" well, I'm not. I don't like my mother. Take tonight for example, my parents went out to a nice restaurant to eat and brought back pizza for my siblings and I. I got a single piece of pizza. That's all I've had ALL DAY. And they wonder why I'm so skinny.
I can also remember being molested by a male family member from the age of 1-4, until I started going to day-care because Mum was to busy looking for families to adopt me out to. Yeah, that's right, my mother wanted to get rid of me all because I threw tantrums whenever Mum was about to leave me with this male family member.
Anyway, I called for help the other day when my brother and I were hiding in the closet because our parents were going at it again and my bro and I were taken to the police station. We were interviewed twice. We told them about EVERYTHING, but they sent us straight back home. The system, along with my parents, has failed me.
The one thing they did do was tell my parents to take me to a psychologist, which they did. I was diagnosed with Major Depression, Dysthymia, Cyclothymia, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Anxiety Panic Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and possible Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I was shocked, but then again, I did start to realize something was wrong when I started staring at a pair of scissors and a bottle of my sister's tablets for hours. HOURS!
I'm forcing myself not to cut or commit suicide. "just six more years" I tell myself, then I'll be gone.
Did I mention my sister-in-law's relapsed with cancer? It's not very comforting considering I have an aunt, friend, two grandfathers and a grandmother who have died from cancer.
Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read the story of my pathetic life. I don't feel any better, but I saw that coming. I don't trust or love anyone or anything anymore, except for my siblings. The pain never ends. My heart will always be broken.




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Child Abuse Story From Ally

by Ally
(UK)

hi im ally i am 13 and a half years old i live in the uk with my mum and my sister and my 2 brothers my sis is 7 my two brothers are 4 and 8 and this is my story it all started when i was three i was a happy little girl until the thursday of may 5 my father came home at 2 in the morning and came in my bed and raped me then it all went up from there he started abusing me he would say to me come here and he would be in his bedroom and he would say suck my ++++ to me and he would be happy he would be smiling i would cry and he would give me beer or wine he would buy me dolls and use them for sex and he would slap me and call me a s*** or a hoe or a b**** and he would say like the names i call you and you would have to say yes or he would do it more then after was 8 he went to jail because i told a friend and she said i love you and ill tell my parents.




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Child Abuse Story From Emotionally Scarred

by Emotionally Scarred
(United Kingdom)

I am female, and 17 years old now, living in the UK. My mum physically abused me from as long as I can remember. I have 3 siblings, of which all were never abused and were always, and still are loved until today. My dad never abused any of us. I remember being as young as 6, where my mum gave me a black eye. I don't remember the whole story, but I do remember that my mum hugged me and apologised for doing it. That day, the teachers noticed my eye of course, but neither did they ask or care about my eye, they just stared. Everyday it went on and on, my mum would hit me with different objects, especially her sandals/shoes. She'd threaten me to not tell anyone otherwise she'd killed me. Everyday was the same, beating me, while my siblings just stood there, staring...laughing.

My mum would often tell me I was a mistake. I'd go to school with bruises all down my arms and I'd try to get teachers to pay attention to them. They didn't notice, or at least, they didn't care. Then when I was 10, finally a teacher noticed a huge bruise along with a pinch mark (yes my mum used to pinch me a lot)on my arm when we went swimming as a class. She called me up beside her and asked what happened to my arm. I lied. Big mistake. I told her I fell and she said she was concerned so she told the head teacher, and the head teacher asked me the same. By this time, I was with my younger sister. I was a socially awkward kid, I didn't talk to anyone hardly, I was shy. My sister covered for me and said that I fell. They left it at that. I just wish now that I never lied in the first place, I could have been taken away from this hell.

When I was 13, I went through major physical abuse by my mum. She'd bang my head in to the walls, choke me, scream at me, hit me with the nearest object, punch me, kick me in the stomach, put my head under water for minutes and pull my hair. It lasted all year, it was terrible. I wanted to die. I threatened that I'd tell the teacher about her and she said she'd kill me. She said it was my fault she was doing this and that it was "discipline". My siblings were less disciplined than I was, I was that shy kid who just minded her own business all the time. Sometimes I'd bang on the walls and call for help from my neighbours but they never responded. My uncle, living a door away, would call me a witch and tell me to shut up and that I was disturbing his wife and kids.

I was also bullied at school when I was 13, so life was tough. I didn't want to go home, yet I didn't want to go to school. I received counselling about the bullying at school from the school counsellor, but still, I didn't speak out about the abuse at home.

At ages 14 and 15, the physical abuse pretty much calmed down a bit, it wasn't as bad. I was happy, the bullying stopped...but then I turned 16.

At age 16, I met my abusive "best friend" who I no longer speak to anymore. She'd beat me, at school, day by day. However, I managed to put an end to it after two months by speaking out and shouting at her to stop. I was fed up of being a pushover who everyone thought they could pick on and bully. At 16, I was unhappy, I fell in to depression. My home life was terrible again, this time worse. My mum beat me everyday, harder than ever before. She'd put all her energy in just to beat me up. She'd give me bloody nose bleeds, external head injuries, a bust lip, pull my hair until I needed to eat hair vitamin tablets, twist my hands, punch me in the stomach, stamp on my feet, pinch my arms hard, slap me, punch my head, kick me and much more. Once when I was 16, she strangled me. I tried to get her hands off me but she continuously strangled me and told me to "die" because hell is where I belong. She said I was an accident and I wasn't supposed to be born. She said she wanted me to be pretty, and that I turned out ugly. She emotionally hurt me, she always called me fat, anorexic, ugly, failure, worthless, loser etc. I started developing self-esteem issues and I still have them. She only hit me because I was a weak, easy target of hers who she used to vent out her anger upon.

I've had social anxiety since I was very little, but it developed over time, now I don't like to talk to anyone. I feel bottled up, isolated, and scared anyone will hurt me. I have a fear of being touched, even if someone wants to give me a hug or a handshake, a pat on the back or so, I freak out. I have only a few friends now but I can't bring myself to trust them.

My mum still does it but now it's only occasionally, which is good. However, her emotional abuse is ongoing and sometimes I'd rather her beat me up than emotionally ruin me. My mum takes away my phone that my dad bought me, but my siblings get to keep their electronics. I still have depression, I have trust issues, I live in fear of the abuse starting again. My dad has never known about the abuse since he comes home very late everyday from work (mostly when I'm asleep) and is barely at home, plus I hardly communicate with my dad. I'd tell someone, but I'm forced to pretend that the life I am living, that I'm living happily. Sometimes I just want to run away from life, run away from this house, but there's no way I can. My mum's overprotective, she believes I will only be allowed to move out of this house when I'm married. I fear that if I run away, and my mum finds me, she'd beat me. She doesn't let me even down the road on my own and she drops me to college everyday, while my siblings all have freedom (I have 2 younger siblings and one older). I have tried committing suicide before, when I was 16, but failed. I now result to self-harming but I'm slowly stopping.

Now I guess the future doesn't look bright to me, and I'll forever be living in self-hate. The abuse has scarred me for life. When I'm a little older, I plan to go to University, get a degree, a job, get a boyfriend, marry, and go far, far away from this house. Then I plan to adopt a child who never received the love I didn't either. I'll give the child all the love and care in the world and it'll be my child. But for now, I guess I'll live in fear for a few more years.




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Child Abuse Story From Briana H

by Briana H
(USA)

When my mom went to prison, my brother, sister and I had to go live with our dad and his girlfriend. It was hard there because our dad's girlfriend always abused us. Examples:

Threw us down the stairs, hit my head against the blowdrier,hit us in the face,gave us baths when we were older, made us stand in the corner all day, wathched us go to the bathroom,spanked me and left a handprint on my butt.

But the sad thing is that we were not allowed to tell on her or we would get hurt. Well there is more but it would take me 5 days to explain.




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Child Abuse Story From the Mother of a Molested Daughter

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

So Hurt: 
I am a mother of 2. A 13 year old son and a 4 year old daughter. We recently found out my son molested my daughter. Who I will add is his half sister not bio.
I am without words. In our darkest days never would have thought this would have happened!
From what we have been told it has only happened one time and it was touching and oral.
My son was immediately taken to his bio Dads after my daughter told my about the incident. I had a Mother's intuition and had asked her about the particular evening after my son wasn't around and she told me about it. Upon asking previously, they both kept saying they were just playing outside. Of course CPS was informed.

My son is now in a treatment facility for sexual perpetrators where they will focus on his offence and he will have to take responsibility for what he has done. As far as whether or not he will ever come back to live with us full time is unknown but doubtful. I pray that this program will change him and we will get some answers. I will not risk putting my 4 year old in danger again.
She has been going to play therapy. She asks about her brother all the time. She loved him so much. She would have done anything for him and I believe thats why she was such an easy target for him.
When we ask him why he did this- he tells us that she took all his attention when I had her and he also wanted to see how it felt. So I don't think he cared that he hurt anyone else- but what he didn't realize was exactly how may lives this did impact and how no one will ever look at him the same and he will have to earn each and everyone trust back.
I just pray for my daughter that this was a one time incident and she can overcome this and what ever sickness that corrupted my son will leave his body!
This is the hardest position a Mother should never be in!!

Thanks for listening to me vent....




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Child Abuse Story From Mike

by Mike
(Oklahoma, USA)

I didn't learn to talk until I was about 3 years old. My mom to me to a base Dr. The Doctor found a throat infection that appeared to him to be a type of STD. He told my mom if he reported it my Dad could be Court Martialed. That would have been tragic. When I did learn to talk I had a horrific raspy deep voice that to this day even I despise hearing. several years later they divorced. There were six kids, to protect herself and the other kids, she sent me with him. I was 12. I don't remember when it stopped. I do know I was the sacrificial lamb to get him to stop molesting the other kids. I was used in ways that we should never have been used for. I am forty seven and am a man of very large stature with something of an imposing presence. I am still scared that my head will be cut off for telling. My abusers are no longer alive but I am left with a horror every time I close my eyes. I am constantly in and out of therapy, tough gig for a man in law enforcement. The two upsides are that I raised my children in a loving protective environment and broke the cycle. The other is, I was disposable, its why I was born, but Im still here.




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 Not Disclosed

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

When I was born, my parents seemed more interested in the launch of my father's new company. My mom claims that more congrats calls came in regarding the launch rather than my birth. From day one, I was second to $.

Life began to go down hill when my dad’s company began to fail. He divorsed my mom (which put me and my brother in the middle) and left us traveling between houses, getting negative thoughts from either end. When my dad’s more recent company failed, life got truly horrific. By this time, he had remarried. I was about 3.

As I grew older, I felt great stress being the young triangulator between the households. Both households acted like children; they gossiped about each other, and left me to sort out fact from fiction which was often hard to do when “fact” and “fiction involved cheating, personality disorders, stealing money, and a whole slew of chaos. I began to complain of stomach aches. My grandma would take care of me. It felt like she was the only one who really loved me. I only have good memories of oma. But somehow, she fades from my memory; Too much horror has taken the place of her positive but soft light in all that darknes.

During a vacation when I was about 6 or 7, I was molested for the first time. It happened at Disney land, by a man who had to bend down to touch me as he walked by. It felt deliberate, shameful, and upsetting. I told my father. But he did not believe me. He began to tease me instead. They called me psychosomatic, and even accused me of being a martyr at this young age. I didn’t even know what the word meant. But still, they’d chastise me daily and I’d put up with it.

In later years, dad put me on a diet. This was in 4th grade. I was 9. He handed me books and told me to run across the lawn. Then he took them away and said, see? Isn’t it nice to be less heavy?
That was the excuse for permanently cutting my portions in half and refusing me spaghetti when all my siblings got to eat it in front of me. To make it worse, my mother took up the issue as a fight against my father. She’d battle back by feeding me more candy.he’d battle back by feeding me less. I quickly learned my body was a corner that dust collcted in. It’s dangerous how much your parents can break you down.

Around the same time, I started to have trouble sleeping. Before when I was young, I could climb into my dad’s bed. I did this almost every night. But after a certain age, I had to just stay and hope I fell asleep. Instead of sleeping, I had panic attacks. I would go to my brother's room, or sleep on his floor. The panic attacks were too painful to bear on my own. Once when comforting me from a panic attack, he asked for a payment. It was touching me inapropraiately. He has now expressed regret, but it still haunts me to this day. I have flashbacks not unlike PTSD.

In 6th grade, my “diet” continued, but this time, I took it into my own hands. for the first time ever, my parents praised me for eating little to no food. A day eating nothing but a piece of watermelon and a bowl of grapes? A new skirt for you. A day with nothng at all!? You get to borrow your step mother’s expensive size 00 clothing. I grew toxically thin. Eventually someone at my school intervened—my crash diet only lsted about 2 months of bingeing and starvation, but it did its damage. I had gone from a size 5 to a size 00, and no longer looked like myself.

IN middle school, I was exposed to my first romantic relationships. None were sexual in any way. Honestly, I hadn’t even kissed anyone until 8th grade. I’m fairly certain that’s late. But I expressed this deep emotional instability in relationships. I “cheated” I texted two guys at once, I was all over the place. It wasn’t pretty. In retrospect, I just wanted someone to love me. Lots did. But none repaired the scars that my family had inflicted. None could heal the fact that even though I was thin and a pretty girl, I felt like a fat, shameful ugly monster just under my flesh.

I began to tell stories about my past like they were attractive things. My favorite story was one about how I had been chased by men in the park. It was exaggerated, unfortunately: the men didn’t have the silver baseball bats that I said that they did. They had only followed me and yelled verbal assaults at me until I ran and hid in a garden. I made it sound as scary as I could though, because that story didn’t capture all the moments that were being relived simultaneously in my mind, and all the possible horrible outcomes that felt too close to home

Around this time, I began to have my first real boyfriend. After a few months of dating, I felt like I really, truly cared about him. He began to push very hard for us to have sex. I was very scared, but I complied for all of his requets. He made me do many shameful, degrading things had he had seen on porn. He could have just been young, but he was older than me, and I wasn’t his first, so it was sad to watch myself be so forced to experience my first time in such a non-romantic way. There was one afternoon even when I did not adamantly want to have sex. He pushed me down and jokingly begged me, all the time taking off his clothes, trying to preasure me, but I kept saying I didn’t want to. He ended up taking what he wanted.

A year and a half later, me and that boy broke up. I wish I could say I realized he was a jerk, but unfortunately, he had broken up with me because he felt I wasn’t attractive enough for him.

At school, I felt like a low-self esteem mess. I was secretly in love with a random guy in my high school, but was convinced he’d never go for me because of my insecurities.

After almost 6 months of a depression in which I gained and lost 60 lbs, I started dating the first “nice guy” I had ever come across. A new pattern started in my life where I began to date guys who I felt were utterly spineless. Not just normal nice person, but lay down JUST so you can walk all over them types. It’s not that I didn’t find him attractive—All my friends just felt I was dating much farther down the scale. In retrospect, I am happy I had a good influence in my life. although, it left me with a weird complex about being not-good-enough for what I wanted, but too-good-for what I had. His overzealousness made me worry that my perception of my self wasn’t accurate, and that maybe the abusers in my life were right after all.

After we broke up, I went into a very unfortunate promiscuous-mode, and oversexualized myself. Luckily it was to people outside of my own community so I didn’t lose respect within my friend group. That pattern continued on through the beginning of freshman year of college.

The week before I departed for college, I got ready to visit my friend at anoher school. There, I partied with her, and even though I had no intent on hooking up with anyone, ended up being sexually assaulted for the final time—a week before my life changed entirely, no less—by a boy that is good friends with my friend. I never told her. She wouldn’t believe me if I did. His roommate was in the room and didn’t stop it.

By the time I came to college, I was ready for my life to change. But I was severely wounded. I had experienced upwards of four sexual assaults. I am an exorbitant perfectionist. So bad I often lie in order to cover up my faults. I don’t want anyone to know how weak I am because just look at how weak my whole life has been. As I went through it I never felt weak. Not until today. Now that freshman year is coming to an end, I’m realizing that I’M the one that feels guilty about what happened with my brother. I feel like I’m causing his depression and suicidal thoughts—his possible perversion. IM the one who feels like its MY duty to not piss off every man who approaches me just to dance at a party—who cries when I’m called cold for not dancing when I doesn’t feel like it. Every time a man approaches me at a party, I tense up, anxiety shocks my entire body, and I feel like I’m being attacked. Even with my friends, I feel like my life is so full of shame and hurt, that no one could ever want me as a friend. That I’m not useful or valuable. That I’m not lovable. That no one will ever stick up for me. I just want the painful memories to stop plaguing me. I want my brother to overcome his depression so I can feel ok being anry at him. I feel like I cant heal myself if he is hurt worse than me—that I have to focus my efforts on him. I hope it works out. Honestly, even just sharing it here helps. Thank you for reading.




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 Anonymous73

by Anonymous
(Location Undisclosed)


I'm 13 years old and this is my life story of sexual abuse when i was 5 or 6 years old i was at my sisters house with my sister and my nephew and my sisters husband, around that time my nephew was 3 years old.my sister started leaving me alone with her husband and go somewhere so one night my sister had to go somewhere and i stayed at the house with her husband so she left and her husband told me we're going to play a game of hide and go seek so i thought it was going to be fun so i played along with it until he stared taking off my clothes,and locked my nephew out of the room and he put a porn video on and that's when the sexual abuse started and i only remember one or two time but I'm positive there more than two times. and i remember other people that are my dads friends also doing things to me when i was 9 or 8 years old but they didn't go as far as my sisters husband.at my age now their still giving me looks and hugging me and kissing me when ever i see them and i feel uncomfortable and i don't know what to do because i can't tell my parents because I'm afraid they won't believe me and i just wanted to get this pain off of my back thank you for reading my story.




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Child Abuse Story From Megan

by Megan
(UK)

I was groomed by a neighbour when I was eleven years old. The first time he touched was when we were wrapping my mum's birthday presents. My nightie had a poodle picture on it, with the bow on his tail in line with my breast. He touched the ribbon, saying he liked my nightie. As a child, I had learning difficulties; I had no friends and was made to feel ashamed of my difficulties. I thought he cared about me and I was of course flattered. We would go on long rides to the country, and he would kiss and hold me. Later, he forced me to touch his penis. I hated it; it was rough and disgusting. I tried to pull my hand away but he grabbed my wrist. That was the only time he forced me to touch him; after, I always agreed. When it escalated to anal sex, I didn't think it was wrong. He would touch me under the blanket in front of my mother and she never commented. The rape happened at home, when my mum left me with him so she could have a "break" from caring for me. He raped me in her bed, at the top of stairs, but usually in her bedroom. When someone eventually called the police we had grown so close and spent most of the time together. I protected him. Even after that, my mum left me alone with him. One day at his new flat, he showed me porno pictures. When he left for his new girlfriend, I became angry. Kicking off at home, me and my mum argued more then ever. I started spending much of my time baby sitting the guy's daughter. Alone down the park, other guys noticed me.
When the first guy, we will call him Mal, "chatted" me up I was flattered. Fat and ugly, I thought there was something wrong with me. The first time he tried it on with me, I wouldnt go to far as I had the little girl with me. He would lick my nipples and laugh because, where I was so young, they couldnt get stiff. When we went to his house he too had sex with me. He called me fat and a wh*** as I had already lost my virginity. Alone and very vulernable, I was a target for any local pervert.
When Mal lost interest in me, I was picked up by Az. He had a car - I thougth he was so grown up. We would have sex but then he wouldn't help me tie my shoelaces. I would tuck them in my D&Ms but all the boys would laugh at me. They knew what I had done. Later, I found a another guy, we'll call him Sha. I told Mum I fancied him and she helped me find his address, knocking on his door and dropping me off there. Through him, I met more guys. He tried to stop me but, of course, me, at the grand old age of twelve, was so grown up. Within a few months more then fifty men had sex with me. I would be left in a bedroom while they queued up and took turns. One guy I still have flash backs about would rape me so violently I couldnt walk. He left me black and blue. He found it funny to lock me in a dark bathroom, refuse to let me use his towels or sit on his sofa. Once, he made me drink a pint of vodka. I beleived him when he told me it didnt need a mixer.
Another guy was in his thirties, and smelled bad. With nowhere to go in the middle of winter, he made me food. His house was warm and it would be ok until he started touching me. Once I said no and I can't remember what happened. I can recall the feeling as he slapped my face and forced me onto the bed.
Another man with a car would droie me out to the countryside. he and his mates would take it in turns to have sex with me. Even now, the feel of dry grass brings back memories of my knees grazing across it in the summer.
The boys all used to laugh at me. Once a guy had sex with me in the bathroom and came all over my yellow dress. I can remember everyone pointing at me. The other older girlfriends would have nothing to do with me. i tried to be their friend and they called me a slag
I finally got out at 13, settling down with a much older guy. It wasn't healthy; he would hit me and once tried to strangle me in the middle of the countryside. But at least it wasn't all them guys. I had an alcohol problem for years which I finally conquered when I had my son at 17.
I am 18 now and I am going to the police. It is hardest of all as my mum and husband both blame me for what happened. But I was a child, a little girl of 11, 12, 13, who had no one in the world to look out for her. As much as you think you are grown up at the time, a child that age is a baby. Its sick. I remeber now, all the guys who have sex with me from behind. Now I understand they couldn't bear to see what a child I was. Its hard speaking out, but its the only way to make people stop and think about child abuse properly. There are more then a few guys out there think a drunk girl is easy prey, regardless of age.




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Child Abuse Story From Kristina L

by Kristina L
(Texas, USA)

From the time I could crawl I was locked in a room. All day, most days. My brother and I were locked in the room together by our parents. My sister, eleven years older was also being abused badly, but whenever she could she would let us out of a room. We were all physically, mentally, and sexually abused. What kept us in the room was a chain put on the door by my dad. During the entire time I was locked in the room and then some time after it finally ended, I was repeatly molested by my brother. I was made to look at naked, or partially naked pictures of women, as he molested me. The most difficult thing I've ever gone through. My brother and I were potty trained to use the bathroom, but were forced to use the potty chair for years while locked in the room. We barely ate, we mostly ate rice, milk, sugar cereal. Through out all of my life, my parents verbally and physically abused me. Using extension cords, wire hangers, yes wire hangers, belts, large wooden paddles, fists, and whatever else they could seem to think of. My mother found out about my brother molesting me, from me. She grounded him for a couple weeks and that was it. A few years later when I brought it up, she denied knowing, or that I told her at all. To this day they deny the abuse they did to me, my sister and brother. Dealing with it everyday is draining, and depressing a lot of the time. But it challenges you and your character to grow, and see things in a way most do not. There are blessings, and beauty from ashes.




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Child Abuse Story From Mlke

by Mike
(Location Undisclosed)

When I was young boy I thought everyboby would be safe.That is not the case.One day I was playing basketball with my friends.We were having fun.About 30 mins later my brother friend deciding he was going to play also.It was about 1 hr later everybody stop playing basketball.Then we had a drink of water.He ask me to stay he had something to show me. He started pulling his shorts off. I didnt know want to do.He play with himself.Then he said pull your shorts down.He place his hand on my back. He told me taht it will not hurt.then he put in me an it hurt.I told him to stop.An few minutes he stop.I pull my shorts up an ran home. I told no one until now.




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Child Abuse Story From Anonymous74

by Anonymous
(USA)

I am a 17 year old female. Recently my grandfather, L--, was arrested for the possession of child pornography. Since this event, I have had nightmares that I was abused by him. At first, they were very extreme, to the point where I knew that they were only nightmares and that they actually didn't happen. However, more recently, I have had nightmares that are much more probable and feel a lot more like memories. I told my teacher about this. He in turn helped me talk to the school social worker. They both then helped me tell my mom. My mom seemed to dismiss what I had to say since she claims that I was never left alone with L--. I don't feel that what may or may not have happened to me affects me very much in my daily life. I don't know if I should keep trying to convince my mom that I think I might have been molested, or just drop it and move on and not look back.




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Child Abuse Story From Dale

by Dale
(West Virginia, USA)

Black Sheep of the Family: 
Growing up in a house with my parents and six brothers I was the one they called the Black Sheep. This goes back to a cold day in December 1953 when my baby brother died. I was only 15 months old. My dad was working and mom went to the movies downtown with her best friend, leaving the children with her mother, my grandma. I had an older brother L--- who was only 13 months older than me. L--- had taken my baby brother's bottle from him and was drinking his milk. Grandma had put a sheet of plastic from the dry cleaner's under the baby to keep her bed from getting wet. Larry took the plastic that was hanging loose around the baby and threw it over his face. I saw him do this and tried to pull the plastic from over his face. I knew that he could not get air. L--- pushed me to the floor knocking the breath out of me. I tied to tell my Grandma what was happening but she could not understand me, since I was not old enough to talk myself. The next thing I remember Dad was putting my snowsuit on me and he was jerking me. He had tears in his eyes and I didn't understand why. I have always felt that L--- put the blame on me that day. That is why dad was jerking me. I know this because L--- always told lies on me growing up and dad would beat me with a belt. One time when I was about 5 years old we were put down for a nap one afternoon. I was in my bed about to fall a sleep when I heard a loud crash. L--- had knocked over the fan and went running back to his bed. Dad came into the room and said who did that. L--- pointed at me and said that I had did it. Dad started beating me with a belt so hard that he put stripes all over my body. After he stopped hitting me he went back to lay down. Of course I was crying from the beating and he came back and started beating me again, saying shut up, shut up everytime he hit me. His beating me like this went on until I had blood coming out of the whelps. This beating was only one out of hundreds of beatings as a child. My mother used to call me the black sheep of the family. L--- would run to mom and tell he a lie on me and she would say to me "Wait until your daddy comes home, he is going to beat the sh*t out of you." Of course she would tell him and he would beat the living sh*t out of me. I've always felt that I was unloved by all my brother's. Both my Father and Mother are dead now, my brother's never call me or have anything to do with me. I feel that it was the way my parents trained them to not care about me. I am now 60 years old and these beating go on even now in my head. People need to understand that as a child a beating may always stay with that child. My baby brother was killed by my older brother who was only a little over two years old himself. Growing up with an older brother who always wanted me to get whipped was nothing but pure hell.




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Child Abuse Story From Cindy C

by Cindy C
(California, USA)

Please be warned that this might cause triggers in some readers, but I needed to tell my story. I am a survivor of physical, emotional and sexual abuse. The child protective service system failed me, they were called on to investigate three times, two teachers noticed the bruised in my body and reported, and I was still kept at home. My father's side of the family came from physical abuse. My grandfather was physically and emotionally violent towards my father, my aunts and uncles. My father didn't break the chain of abuse, but also added a new form of abuse. My mother was abandoned by her mother and raised by her grandmother. My mother also continued the chain. My mother had four children from two different marriages, my two older sisters with husband number 1 and with my father she had my brother and me. My father was a violent alcoholic man with a short temper. He would beat my mother in front of us and was always angry and hit my brother and myself. My parents both had the same circle of friends and they knew and saw the bruises from the abuse, but no one spoke up. Sure every one would say “poor Cindy's mom and the children" but no help was provided. My mom eventually met a younger man, she decided to leave my dad , my older sisters stayed with their father and my mother took my brother and me with her new boyfriend. My father started a new relationship at that time with a wonderful woman that at the beginning knew nothing of my brother and he lied and told her that he had no children. When my mom took custody of my brother and me, we went to her native country alone with her and spent a month there (there was a civil war at that time), afterwards her new boyfriend was in Texas and went there, my mom emptied the apartment and everything my brother and I owned was but in suitcases, however no name or label were put in those suitcases, therefore all our clothes, toys and baby pictures were lost. When we arrived in Texas we only had what we came with. Living in Texas we played with some kids from the apartments that gave us lice, I don't know if it was the lack of money but our heads were full of lice and no medicine was given to us. My mother's boyfriend made my brother and I sleep on the floor, while my mother and the boyfriend slept in the mattress. One time I went to sleep in the mattress and he got angry that he found me there and hit me. I was so angry that the next time I spoke to my father I told him that my mom's boyfriend hit me. My father demanded my mother to bring my brother and myself back to California. When we went back my mom brother and I stayed in a motel. One time my mother and father had sexual relations while my brother and I were in the other twin bed. After that night I don't remember how much time passed , my mother was taking a trip thorough greyhound, my father took my brother and I to say bye to , when I asked her when she would be back , she promised she would be back , but didn't say when. Little did I know that she was never coming back. So my dad had nothing more to do than tell his new wife (the wonderful woman) that he did have two kids and that their mother just left them. At that time my new baby sister was a few months old. As a four year old, I wanted my mother back and would ask for her, and my father would get mad and yell that he didn't know. And since I wasn't the youngest, he would tell me that he had to take care of the baby, because she was the baby. I would get mad and sad because at least she had her mother, I didn't. The physical abuse and emotional abuse continued, my new stepmom , tried to protect me , but at that time she was a young naive girl herself , just twenty from a different country. After 5 years of marriage my stepmom left my dad pregnant with my other baby sister and my baby sister. That is when the sexual abuse started. The first episode was when I was nine , he told me to go to his room , he turned off the lights, took his clothes off ,made me go on his bed and laid on top off me. He tried to take my pants off , and I was crying, all of a sudden he stopped. I got out of his room and I cried . The next day, he asked if anything happened, and I told him what happen , and he apologized and said that it would never happen again. For a few years only the physical and emotional abuse happened. My father would find any excuse to hit and call my brother and I stupid or animals. When I started developing physically, the sexual abuse started again, my father would force me to sit on his lap and he would rub himself on me until he would ejaculate on my clothing. He would time his attacks to make sure no one was in the house , in those times he would grab my chest or make comments about my body. He would also tell me in detail about his sexual relations with women and how they like his penis. I would get mad and ask him why is he telling me those things and do those things, but of course no answer was given. He also would show me his penis by saying he needed me in the next room and he would be nude, I would just shut my eyes and wished it to go away. The abuse continued until I was 18 , I waited until I graduated high school to leave, I also had to time it so I could get my birth certificate and my social security card from him since he didn't want to give it to me. My father spread lies about me to make himself the victim to the rest of the family.I finally told my older siblings and they urged me to report him, but I feared that the case would fall through the cracks. After six years I finally reported it to the police , and since the crimes happened when I was a minor , it was assigned to the child's victim unit. I was lucky the police officers and the detectives that handled my case took it , because it was my word against his. It took a bit to finally finish the investigation. My father took a plea deal and do to overcrowding in the California prison he got a year in jail and five years probation, and he has to register as a child sex offender for life. Even though his sentence was light , I got some justice , more than I could of asked for do to the circumstances. As for my mother years later she appeared in my life and made empty promises to keep in contact, I tried to keep a line of communication with her but every time I tried to tell her what I went through, she said she had it tough and that God has forgiven her for her past sins. She doesn't understand that I needed her to hear me and know that her abandonment put me thorough hell.In our last conversation she had wanted to use my social security number for a bill, I told her I would but I didn't .So she didn't contact me for months , until my sister went to visit her , than all of a sudden she wanted to speak with me. About a month ago I sent her a letter letting her know what I felt and what her abandonment did to me , and what I thought about the man she left her children for. She wrote back and said that she read it. She still wouldn't acknowledge what I went through but at least I know I gave her a chance to know me , and it was she that didn't take it. I am finally going to therapy to help me heal and with my anger and trust issues. I want to thank anyone who took the time to read my story. Peace to all the fellow survivors.

Cindy




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 Jeffrey

by Jeffrey
(Kentucky, USA)

When I was still in diapers and too young to remember the whys of it all, I was put in a foster home with my 3 older siblings. For the first couple of years of my known life I lived with a "normal" family in a suburb without any abuse or neglect. Then came a day of confusion for me, a man arrived who my older siblings recognized and called "Daddy" but who I didn't know at all. He took all four of us away from the safety and security that I knew and from age 5 I began being physically and emotionally abused. No sexual abuse occurred during those years with my father, but there was no love or feeling of safety or security for me either. I don't know to this day why I was singled out to receive the brunt of my father's anger, but nearly every night I lived with that man he would pull off his belt and bend me over his knee. Sometimes I probably deserved the whipping I got, most of the time it was for something one of my brothers did that I got the blame for.
My story doesn't even begin with my father, it actually starts after the police came and my oldest brother and I were separated from my other two siblings and sent to a juvenile detention home for 6 months while waiting placement in a foster care program.
The abuse didn't start here either, but this place set the stage and my mind-set for what was to come. In my father's "care" I had learned to fear authorities, to keep secrets, to hide what I really thought or felt, and to never grow attached to anything. In the detention home many of those traits were strengthened by the stories I heard from other juveniles and here I learned to cuss, steal, and hate. Then when I thought that this would be my life the day came that my brother and I were put on a plane and sent to another state to live with an Aunt who had been accepted as our new legal guardian.
She had a master's degree in psychology and a teacher's certificate while her husband was from India and was a PhD in botany and had a government grant for some secret research as well as being a professor of a local university (I will not divulge their names or any real names since many innocent victims can still be hurt by the revelations I am about to disclose). My Aunt was a very devout and religious woman who believed in total pacifism. My Uncle was a scientist from a very well-to-do family who looked on me as an "untouchable" low-life that he was to be burdened with. My first mistake in speaking the crude language I had learned which earned me nothing but contempt and disciplinary action from my new family. Nothing I did was even remotely acceptable and I was as out of place as a fish out of water. That was when my Aunt (who really did try to make me feel loved) introduced me to an artist who made his own jewelry in a misguided attempt to get me interested in the arts and the more refined aspects of culture.
I did not fit in at school, I didn't fit in at home, I just didn't seem to fit in anywhere, until Frank became my mentor that is. Frank was the artist who took me under his wing and began teaching me how to create custom jewelry and other artistic works. He also began molesting me sexually. I was the perfect victim for him, I didn't dare tell anyone what he was doing and didn't want to lose the only "friend" I had so I never tried to stop him from doing it.
For months he would perform oral sex on me and then I would feel obligated to do the same for him. I didn't like it, I didn't feel right about it, but I couldn't see any way to end it either. I was trapped and Frank knew it and took full advantage of his power over me. I slipped ever further into myself and my books as a way to forget and not deal with what was happening. I never had any friends as a child or adolescent and never had an intimate relationship with the opposite sex til I was in my 20's. That ended with the girl despising me for my "sick and perverse" idea of what sex was. Then I was celibate for another 10 years before I met the woman who became my wife. She still doesn't know about my history and we are not intimate and have not been for the last 18 years of the 20 years we have been married.
Ultimately I still feel like the outcast and loner I was in my youth and probably always will.




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 Frederikke

by Frederikke
(Denmark)

When I was 5 I was sexually abused by a kindergarten teacher in a period of three months. It happened in a small and dark toy shelter. There were no lamps in there and the only light came from small windows far above my head. I don't remember so much of it. I trusted him a lot so I wasn't scared at first, just confused.
I don't remember the actual act but I remember the first time it happened: I remember looking into his eyes and exactly how his face looked. I remember his big hands sipping down my snow suit. He said we were going to play a fun game, and that I could never tell anybody. My memory becomes dark here like something is missing, but when I try to remember it's like there’s a big wall blocking my mind.
My parents found out when my mom was bathing me in the bathtub. When she was soaping me I started laughing because it tickled, but then I became serious and said: "Mom I don't like it when (his name) touches me there... Can you tell him I don't want to play that game?" My parents freaked out. They made me tell them everything, and then they took me out of kindergarten for three months. My mom ended up losing her job because she couldn't be there when she was taking care of me.
We reported it to the police but they said there was not enough evidence on the guy. He quit his job because of the mess I had made when I told, but he never got arrested. I remember talking to police officers and doctors. One of the doctors or maybe a therapist made me draw a picture of my feelings. I drew a dark shelter with bars across the windows.
I'm so angry when I think of the time after that. Nobody believed me at the kindergarten. The adults were always angry with me and said that I weren't allowed to play make believe games anymore. My parents told me later, that none of the other kids’ parents believed us either. They blamed me for making an innocent man quit his job for no reason. I went to preschool with one of the girls from kindergarten. Once i tried to tell her something and she said: "That's not true. You're just a big fat liar. My dad says you always lie and that I'm not allowed to listen to what you say." Back then I didn't understand why her father told her that, but I do now.
My parents got divorced when I was 7. I think the whole situation kind of split them up. I was diagnosed with SAD and later OCD too. When I changed school in 2008 everything got better. I didn't take meds anymore and I was feeling happy.
I'm 16 now and I still live in this town. All of sudden about a month ago, all of these memories and thoughts came back to me. Suddenly I started feeling scared and sad. My memory is coming back in small bites. I hate it. I have to drive by the shelter every day. I HATE it. I don't want to be here in this town with these people. I hate all those stuck up parents and their kids. I'm afraid of meeting the man who hurt me again. I don't know his last name or where he lives.
I hope I'll one day be able to move out of town and get past all of 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 Mary

by Mary
(California, USA)

I am adding my name: 
I find it interesting that I have been looking for this site for years. I will tell the story now. I am disabled. I come from the Foot Ball lovers of Temple City CA.I was a very happy loving child. Disabled amputee, missing leg and arm. I was repeatedly beaten by my foot ball hero brothers and often it happened in front my mother, she allowed 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 Worried Teacher About a Student

by Worried Teacher
(Location Undisclosed)

I teach high school Chinese, and as expected, I have many oriental students. Today, I listened in on one of my student's conversation as I was handing out papers, and discovered her father is a smoker and a drinker. He often hits her and acts violently towards her. I have seen her in class repeatedly with scratches and bruises, and have noticed a number of scars on her. I'm not sure what I should do. I'm concerned I'll be intervening in family problems.




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 Kai

by Kai
(Missouri, USA)

I was six the first time i was raped. It was my mothers boyfriend, and on my birthday. I remember the most important present i got that day was a blank diary that i didnt realize at the time would be such a sanctuary for me.It started as just him, he would come into my room at night, or already be hiding in my closet, i would try to make it to the door, but never got far before he would yank me back in and close the door. He would hold me down by my throat and pull my clothes off, ripping them often. The first time i screamed and cried for what felt like hours before he was done, he climbed off of me and told me to go take a bath. i couldnt even move everything hurt so much. That only pissed him off and he beat me. The first year it was just him and for every night he was in my room, the next day he would take me to a theme park, the movies, a water park, anywhere he thought he could make it up to me.
Then he became colder, started caring how much he hurt me less and less, when i was seven he started selling me to so-called friends and let them do whatever they wanted to me. He would hand cuff me to a bed in the basement and men and women would come in and have sex with me, and perform other sexual acts on me and have me do it to them.
By the time i was 8, he had me addicted to morphine, my mother left because she was pregnant by someone else and went to start a new life with that person and a new baby. I have no idea if she ever knew and i dont think i want to know now. She left me with this creep who handcuff me to the bed and let people have sex with me. Often i would try to fight them, but this only resulted in a punishment where i was shoved in a shower and he would alternate the water from being as cold as it could go to hot enough to scald me for days afterward. After the first couple years, he became insane with it. I would get punished with whips at least twice a week for being raped. This went on for years until i was eleven. I dont have a miraculous ending story in how i escaped. One day, it just stopped. He got caught molesting someone elses child and i was found and placed in a mental institution for a year, then childrens homes till i was old enough to live on my own. Im not ready yet to give strangers details of my abuse, just happened on this site and wanted to give a small summary of my story.




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 Simon

by Simon
(UK)

About a year and a half ago I started therapy to get over the effects of abuse when I was a child. I wrote at that time about the punishments my father gave me through my teens. The worst part of the punishments - which were essentially spankings - was the removal of my lower clothing in front of him, his (male) friends and their sons. As I said at the time I had not sexual enjoyment from this (either now nor in the past) however before and after the spanking I would often gain an erection whilst naked and I was teased for this by the men.

There are two other occurrences I would like to account - mainly because this website is a place where people understand how I feel. I should say that my father, the man and his wife are all dead and this is long in the past.

When I was around 14 my father had to work away (I had no Mother at home) and I stayed with a family who he was friends with. The man had seen my punishments and was was the ring leader in making me turn to face them all when I was completely excited below. He lived with his wife and his son who was about 6 to 8 years younger than me. I would stay during the working week returning on Friday when my Dad returned.

After I had been living with this family for a couple of days the man said one evening to his wife he was going to bath the boys. He told us both to go to the bathroom and watched whilst I took off my clothes. He then put us both in the same bath. I was too old for such treatment and felt embarrassed to be naked in front of him and his son although the son didn't seem to care much at all. The man then said he needed to get me clean. I explained that I could bath myself but he said that wasn't what he had heard and he had strict instructions from my Dad to ensure I was clean (I doubt this completely). He proceeded to soap me spending time cleaning my penis and behind my foreskin and then between my buttocks. He encouraged his son to take a close look and this made it even more shameful.

On the second week he invited his wife to see me being bathed. She looked with interest and teased me. I felt they had discussed what might happen in advance as she didn't seem surprised by what her husband was doing.

I was at their house for about 5 months and this happened most nights.Sometimes the wife would watch whilst on other occassions it was just me and the man although the son was present on all occasions. Sometimes the cleaning was of my bottom was very intimate.

One day he was very annoyed with me, I don't think there was any reason at all, everything I did was wrong. He made me stand on a chair in garden. I stood there for about and hour and gradually realised I needed to go to the toilet with an incredible urgency. I called out but he did not come. In the end his son came and I told him I needed to be excused to go to the toilet. He returned saying his father said I must stay where I was and he had been told to 'keep guard'. I continued to stand on the chair with the son watching me. I was in a state of considerable discomfort and distress. Suddenly I could hold myself not longer and I messed and wet myself. The son ran and got his father. He laughed as though it was the funniest thing he had seen. He had apparently given me a laxative at breakfast (I think he told me they were vitamins or something I dont recall). I was then allowed to the bathroom to clean myself and my soiled clothes. After the occurrence he would not let me put clean shorts and pants on but I was forced to walk around with just my vest. This was a punishment that he had seen my father also carry out.

His wife arrived home and she took a metal bucket from the shed and made me squat on it in case I 'made a mess' again. This was both painful (the bucket dug in to my skin as I had to actually sit upon it) and humiliating as my legs were open to keep my balance and woman, man and his son looked and the man commented on my exposure to his wife and son. In the end I was allowed to wash my soiled clothing in the garden and finally change to my pyjama. This never happened again but it left lasting scars.

I have come to terms with what happened and these were bad people. I now have a good wife of many years and therapy has helped me find peace with these memories. Im not sure how helpful it is to anyone else to hear this but it fells better to have told 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.

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

Join in and write your own page! It's easy to do. How? Simply click here to return to Write Your Child Abuse Story.