Child Abuse Story From Rob Part 1
by Rob
(Palm Springs, California, USA)
I was born May 1972. I have very little memory of my pre-teen years and the memories that I do have are not that pleasant. My earliest memory is of my mom. I was standing on the front steps of our trailer house. I was maybe 4 years old. My mother was loaded into an ambulance. She had tried to OD. My step-father was in the Navy on a ship somewhere and she was having trouble coping. I was told later in life that her intent was to kill both my sister and I and then kill herself.
I was placed at child haven (an orphanage) for a while, not sure how long. No immediate family would take me in. I'm not sure where my sister went. I can remember sitting in the small bucket seat of a swing set being pushed. I was eventually placed in foster care with an elderly couple. I remember them. I also remember getting mixed up at some bee hives at this time (stung like crazy). I am to this day extremely phobic of flying stinging insects. Eventually my sister and I made it back home.
My sister and I must have upset my mom. I guess we kept playing with the dryer door and climbing inside. To teach us a lesson she put both of us inside shut the door and turned on the dryer. This is a very strong memory for me. I remember the pitch black and me trying to hold onto the little fins inside, me and my sister both screaming as we tumbled around.
I have a memory of a large box of Amway laundry detergent. My sister and I were playing with it and it got spilled. I have an image of the soap spilled all in front of the box. That's all I remember. My mom told me years later that after I spilled the soap my dad hit me on the head with the buckle end of his belt. I had to go to the doctor for that one.
My sister and I had our own rooms at an early age, I was deathly afraid to sleep in my own room without a light. I believed at the time that a demon/ghost, something bad was in my room at night. Sometimes I thought I heard it breathe.
Every night I would sneak into my sister's room and sleep. Morning was game time...one of two things would happen: I would wake up earlier than my father and go back to my room, or more often than not, my father would come into the room grab me by the ankles and sling me out of the bed, through the bedroom door and I would land in the hallway. Then I would be yelled at, shuffle-kicked and hit with the board until I made it back to my own room. Sometimes I would wake up as the door opened and the hallway light entered the room. I would freeze. I could feel my dad carefully taking the covers off my feet so he could grab my ankles, I would brace myself for the throw and get ready to run.
I remember getting bloody noses sometimes from this. When my dad would see me bleeding he would lay off a bit. Sometimes my sister would get into trouble for letting me sleep with her so she would lock the bedroom door. I would beg her to let me in. If she didn't I would sleep on the floor outside her door and then Dad would wake me up and make sure I got back to my room in a hurry. This went on almost daily till I was 10-11.
At some point my dad reversed the lock on my bedroom door and tried locking me in the room at night without a light. This didn't work out very well...I was horrified. I would scream and beat on the door to be let out. My dad would come in hit me with board and make me get back into bed.
Soon I was allowed to have a nightlight. It worked ok for awhile, I was too scared to go into the adjoining bathroom, so if I had to go pee I would pee on the floor in the corner of my bedroom...I'm not sure what the consequences of this were but after some time I ended up sleeping with my sister again.
Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled
Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at
Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.
Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.
Child Abuse Story From Rob Part 2
by Rob
(Palm Springs, California, USA)
The tickle game...my sister would have some friends over to play. Somehow I would end up on the floor, my mom sitting on me holding my arms down, then my sister and her friends would tickle me til I was crying. I would scream for them to stop.
The loogy game...my mom would hold me down and hock up a big loogy. Then she would get her face close to mine and then she would let the mucous string out of her mouth. The closer it got the more frantic I would become, and then just as it was getting close to my face she would suck it back in. This was repeated over and over again. It would eventually end with her letting it fall on my face and me running to the bathroom to clean my face.
The knife game...(this only happened once) after a session of tickling, my mom told my sister to go get a knife. She had my sister and her friends hold down one of arms. With her free hand she took the knife and placed it on top of my head. I felt pressure and she pulled the knife back. It was covered in blood. I freaked out, was let up. I put my hand on my head, more blood. My mom, sister and sister's friends were laughing like crazy. They let me freak out for a bit more, and then held out a bottle of ketchup. My mom had flipped the sharp side up dull side down and my sister or one of her friends had squirted ketchup on my head.
My dad was a big believer in "spare the rod, spoil the child." He quoted it a lot. It was never 3 swats on the butt. If I didn't stay still my dad would hit me wherever he could. I have a vivid memory of my dad holding me in the air by one ankle and spanking me. When I was older, 10-11 maybe, he used a 2x6 and beat the hell out of me. This one is also very vivid. I tried to get away under a pool table. He pulled me out, put a knee behind my neck and used both hands to put the board to my backside.
Hungry...apparently I had a bad habit of sneaking into the pantry at nighttime. The only thing I remember ever taking were saltine crackers. I took great care opening the pantry and crackers. I would take four or five crackers and eat them. Next day my dad would ask if took anything out of the pantry. I would lie and then get spanked. I figured out eventually that my dad was counting the crackers before he went to bed at night. He finally put a lock on the pantry so I couldn't get into it at night.
I was having a conversation with my mom about a year ago about me stealing crackers and the locked pantry. She remarked, "Yeah, but then we started finding food in your room. You don't remember the moldy pork & beans we found under your bed." I didn't remember. My mom also mentioned a time that her and my dad were afraid of me and would lock their door at night.
I could never get anything right. "Stupid", "ignorant" "idiot" or "you've got less sense than a retarded screwdriver" were words I was very accustomed too.
My sister could do no wrong. She used to punch me until I punched back then she would run and tell that I punched her first and get me in trouble.
I was a very angry child...my dad used to tell me if I was angry, to beat a bush with a stick. I remember having very strong outbursts, pure rage, but I can't remember why. As a teenager I remember pedaling my ten-speed out on a deserted highway. I stopped, got off, started yelling and screaming, picked up my bike and drop kicked it full on.
When I was 13-14 my mom began pulling down her pants and panties and then running her hand through her pubic hair in front of me. I let the associate pastor at our church know about it. Nothing really happened.
My sophomore year I was failing miserably, had been doing poorly since 4th grade. My parents had me tested for special education. My results scored me in the superior range IQ-wise. The person briefing my parents said there was no reason why I should be failing school. She also noted that I had low self esteem.
I moved out of my house at age 15, and some change. It was a cycle: friend's house to friend's house, back to my house and then through the cycle again.
February 1990 I went to enlist in the navy. My father died of cancer the day I was supposed to ship off. They gave me a week, and then I left my home and never looked back. I was in for over a year before I spoke to my mother again.
I've spent the last 19 years looking forward, but it's weird how life comes around to bite you in the ass.
About 10 years ago my sister began calling and having conversations along the lines of "do you remember??" She was crying and trying to apologize because she helped Mom do stuff to me. I got very angry and told to leave it in the past and not to talk to me about it. She doesn't anymore.
My sister has two children, a boy 14 and a girl 7. I noticed a few years ago my sister was taking the same road our parents had taken with us. Treating the boy like shit and doting on the girl. Sam really started going downhill late last year. I tried like hell all spring to get him over here with my family for a better life. His parents wouldn't budge.
My mom started therapy a few months ago. She told me she's been diagnosed as bipolar-manic depressive with multiple personalities. She began calling me, asking me questions about the past. After a couple of time's of my mom remembering stuff for me I called her up very emotional and told her, "You are f***king me up. I don't want to talk about this stuff."
And life comes around again...a couple months ago we had a neighbor kid, 12 years old, for a sleep over. My boys are 10 and 7. When my wife told me all three boys were going to sleep in the same room, something flipped inside me. Instantaneous imagery of a 13-year-old male babysitter who took off my clothes did 69 with me, sucked my dick and tried to get me to do his. It was revolting. I could almost smell his stinky ass in my face. I became angry, said no way is 12-year-old and 7-year-old sleeping in the same room. When 7-year-old found out he couldn't sleep in the same room as the other boys he began to cry. My wife was upset and said what's wrong with you. I got angry again. I apologized to my wife later and explained my experience to her. We went to bed that night and I couldn't get the images out of my head. Still can't. All the other stuff has taken up residence too.
I had a lot of stuff come back Monday evening and was very distraught into Tuesday afternoon. When I'm not actively doing something to keep my mind distracted I get tossed back into that kids mind`, and the emotions/images suck.
I'm 37 years old and sleep with a nightlight.
Note from Darlene: I regret that I can no longer continue the practice of commenting on visitor submissions to the degree I have in the past, as I am currently writing a book on healing from child abuse. I ask that you please read my post of June 24, 2009 titled Announcement Regarding my Comments for a complete explanation. I welcome you to follow my progress on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I do hope to hear from you there.
Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.
