Child Abuse Story From touched2mysoul

by touched2mysoul
(USA)

I've read and re-read many of the shared stories on this site. I am grateful for this site, as it has given me a place to be able to find others who can relate to my experiences and what the ramifications of child abuse are.

I am 39 years old. My story is of physical and emotional abuse at the hands of my mother. As I type this it is hard to do...she shamed me into not being able to write my feelings on paper...so to be able to do this is a frightening thing for me...but I am trying to connect with others that have experienced the shame, pain, torment, emptiness, loneliness, fear, abandonment, hurt, impeccable doom feelings that child abuse can result in.

She hated me...she said it and did things to make sure I was well aware of it. She said I was not cute. "Monkeys are cute," she would say. She said that she could have flushed me down the toilet but instead she had me...there were times in my life I wish she hadn't had me. She has choked me, beat me, and slapped me...she was methodical in how she treated me...there was some sick way to her madness. I wish to describe the ways in which she disciplined me, but as I watch the letters on the screen as I type I realize that I can't write it... written words are forever....

To put my pain or experience down on paper in black and white, it is forever...and I'm doing the best I can to not be chained to the hurt forever. She used to make me write down on paper every night how I was a bad kid. I had to turn that paper into her every night...how I was bad and all the bad things I had done. I wasn't allowed to write the same thing twice or I would get punished. I became good at it, but then my brain stopped functioning and I couldn't think of anything else that I was bad for...I remember the fear of coming home from school, knowing that I was going to get beat. According to her, I would have done something wrong and she would then promise to beat me when I came home from school that day...going to school I learned to talk myself into not thinking about it...but as the clock ticked toward time to catch the bus or walk home, fear would take over and consume me...I hate to be afraid now as an adult, as fear unnerves me to the core.

I would get off the bus and then the walk (only a block) to my house would feel like impending doom! I would put the key in the door, praying that she was sick or dead...but my prayers were never answered...I would go in and she would either act as if she forgot for about 1/2 an hour or get right into talking about what I had done...and all that I had done wrong up to this point in my life. You see, she had to beat us before Daddy got home...she never beat us if he was home...she would then tell me to go get the belt...that she had promised me a spanking, and what kind of parent would she be if she didn't carry through with what she had promised me...the belts were my dad's...they would leave marks on the furniture or wall when she missed hitting me...she had one belt that she cut up in strips...she would make us strip down to no clothes and we couldn't put our hands in the way or make any noise...if you did then she would say "five more" and you would get hit five more times for each time your hands got in the way or you made noise...that was my problem when I was little...it took a long time for me to learn to disconnect enough to just take it...that's hard to do, but I learned! She would hit me with all her might! Everything she had in her...it would hurt real bad...it would sting...it would leave welts that bled...it would feel hot...it would kill me....

I often wonder who I would have been if she hadn't done the things she had done....

I will write more later...this has drained me....

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From touched2mysoul" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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

Child Abuse Story From touched2mysoul Part 2

by touched2mysoul
(USA)

She was mean...she was degrading...she hurt my feelings...she told people things that weren't true about me and it made me walk in shame...I was a child...I was small...sometimes I still am...she would yell...she would scream...but never in front of my dad...she would manipulate my mind... she would hurt my feelings...kill my soul...she was my mother...the person who was supposed to be my mirror...she was my mirror but my mirror was dirty and foggy...I don't hate her now...I did! I wished she had loved me enough to clean the mirror...like she made me clean the house...spic' n span...I would come home and clean and try to stay out of her way...but somehow I fell into her way just by being...she would speak long and degrading and I would listen and wish someone would save me...no one ever did...I still wish for that...even as an adult...to feel safe. I find it hard to feel safe...I use the name touched2mysoul because that's exactly how I feel about what I went through...it touched me to my soul! I'm not sure if I'm making sense...hopefully someone can relate to what I'm trying to express.

I'm tired...I hate the holidays...it's draining...I wish I could crawl up in someone's arms...big and strong and just feel protected and just cry for all that the child in me lost and all the fear that child still carries and for all the adult me has not had as a result of the fears of the child in me...I'm trying to share my thoughts...thank you for letting me be heard...I really need to be heard...I hope someone is listening?

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From touched2mysoul Part 2" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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

Child Abuse Story From touched2mysoul Part 3

by touched2mysoul
(USA)

I read the comments and reread what I first posted (see Part 1 and Part 2 of touched2mysoull's story). I was immediately embarrassed...shamed...I couldn't believe I had lost my mind enough to put those things down on paper...I can't cry for my shame but it's there...and then I read the comments and realized that someone heard me thru writing it down...someone heard me thru the written words.

My dad...he's dead now...I miss him...he would have brought the moon from the sky for me if I had asked...if you ask me I will tell you that he was the closest thing to something that looked like love to me as a child. He loved the essence of who I was, and I knew it and so did she...my mother hated me for that...she hated that he loved me...I understand now that children are supposed to be the apple of their parents' eye...it was ok and good that he thought I was the best thing that had hit the planet!

I was born out of wedlock, which back then was an embarrassment for my mother. She often reminded me of the shame of this through her torturous methodical punishment methods.

He knew...He knew...but how much did he actually know? You see...I helped her to cover the bruises, wearing clothes that covered...I helped her to cover the lies about the bruises...the marks on the furniture I scrubbed off...the ones on the walls and the steps too...the ones in the bathtub and on the bathtub walls, on the floors, on the radiators, on the steps...I covered them...I didn't want Daddy to see what I meant to her...I never wanted him to ever think of me the way she did, so I said nothing. I wanted to scream when I got older...don't you see?...can't you see? but I didn't because he had to work and that would mean she would get me later, as I would be left home alone with her...again. He was a cop...shocking? yes? He was a cop and couldn't handle the abuse in his own house. He was to serve and protect all, but he didn't do a good job of protecting one...me. He said in later years that he was afraid that he would have lost me to foster care or to her full time...I'm not sure that's a good enough reason for all that I endured, and endure now because of what I've experienced.

She never beat me when he was home...I was safe once he arrived, on weekends and on his days off...during the week she would have from the time when I got out of school till five o'clock to talk to me about what I was supposed to have done, beat me, clean up, clean me up for presentation purposes and get dinner ready. He would arrive home, and as a little child, I would run down the street and jump in his arms...I was safe, until he had to leave the house again.

She seemed to speak a different language, have different moods...she talked to me in ways that I had to learn to figure out so as not to make her mad or upset, but to comply in just the right way. She would say certain things a certain way or tell me to do something in a certain way or not tell me at all, then punish me for not doing it. She would set me up so that she could have a reason to go after me, and then she would beat me with all her might, till she was tired...she would then later hug me and she would say how much she loved me.

She would hit with whatever she could get her hands on, but she also had special things...my dads belts...a big thick black one that left marks on the walls and floors...when those didn't seem to be doing the trick, she went to fly swatters, extension cords, wooden handles, hangers, switches, my clarinet (I quit after that beating), shoes, something that haunts me is a belt that was shredded...it was brown and tattered but always held up...shredded into 7 or eight shredded strips...I recently realized that it was probably shredded by my dad...I'm not sure where to put that information at the moment.

I eventually, years later, learned to not cry...she would hit soooo hard...rearing back with her arm with all her might and swinging...when I was little I would scream...and run...she raised the bar and held my head between her legs so I couldn't run...she raised the bar again...I had to lay over the step-stool in the living room and she implemented "if you move, 5 more"...then she added if you scream or move,5 more...she also had the "if she missed, 5 more"...you don't want to stand there or lay there...you want to jump at the pain each time she hits...sometimes you would jump to a standing position because the pain was searing through you...you would hope she would see your pain and stop but...never...you want to put your hands, arms whatever you can to protect from getting hit...but you can't! If you do, you pay...you pay hard then you think if only I could just be quiet and take it without moving, it may have been over at 10 hits...now I've got 30+...it's over and you stand there...she is breathing heavy and asking you, "Do you understand?"...you are saying, "Yes, Mom...Yes, Mom"...you are embarrassed because you are naked but you can't cover up because she hasn't told you to move yet...she is yelling and screaming and "needs to take a break," she says...she tells you to get back down there again and she is still talking about what you did wrong but you don't know what you did wrong...you listen to understand her language...the cues...she says she doesn't have all day for this so come on and get down on the hasset...there's more...she's not done yet...she says she beats you this way because she's not going to beat "her clothes" clothes are expensive...she wants to beat some naked meat she says...she hits...she hits...she hits....

It's over. You get dressed, as she has gone to make dinner or do whatever it is she does...you look at all the welts, the blood, you look in the mirror to see places you can't see normally...why? I don't know...maybe it was to validate that someone could hurt me that much or maybe it was to try to understand the depth of her hatred. Daddy comes home, smiles, kisses her on the cheek...you all sit down to dinner and eat....

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From touched2mysoul Part 3" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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

Child Abuse Story From touched2mysoul Part 4

by touched2mysoul
(USA)

It was Christmas eve...Daddy had left to go to our godmom's house to pick up the gifts...it was late...10 or 11 at night...we were in our bedrooms. I don't remember how old I was but I'm guessing 13 or younger. Somehow my mother found my brother had had an accident in his bed...she flew off the handle...she told him to get in the tub...and take a bath...she went and got the belt and beat him while he was in the tub...this was a favorite spot for her to beat us...she would brag to her friends that she had figured this out...she would hit so hard that there would be marks from the belt on the bathtub walls and shower door. He screamed and screamed...and I sat at the window praying to God that Daddy would hurry up and get back...he finally got back but took forever coming into the house and up the basement stairs to the first floor...then it seemed forever before he came upstairs to the second floor...I wanted him to kill her...he didn't...I think she told him what my brother had done...and that was it...he never really stood up for us...that memory has stayed with me forever...it changed my holiday. My daddy was my hero as a child cause when he was around she didn't hit us and wasn't really outwardly mean to us...she could pinch us or say things but it wasn't to the 100th power that she would unleash her anger when he wasn't around.

The power of hearing another scream in agony and not be able to stop it...has a profound affect on a person. The power of knowing of a sibling's pain can affect you in ways you can't imagine. I almost wished it was me that night instead of him...it was one of the few times that she went after him as I was her primary target. My brother was younger than me and I felt it was my duty to protect him. Funny how now as adults we don't speak.

Just thought to share this...the holidays are the holidays but for many of us on this site...we have memories of holidays that are combined with horrific un-holiday like experiences. This is just one of mine...I wish for all who can relate to one day find a way to have the holiday experience in the way they wish to do so without the horrible memories. I have found a way...it may not be traditional but it gives my kids something that I never had...pleasant memories of the holiday...which is worth more than any gift I could ever give them.

God Bless, and Darlene...thank you again for the creation of this place... it helps!

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From touched2mysoul Part 4" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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

Child Abuse Story from touched2mysoul Part 5

by touched2mysoul
(USA)

Alone...yep that's it...I feel it now...today...sometimes more than ever...sometimes it's not there...but it always comes back. Child abuse alienates you...so alone is how you feel...it becomes like a best friend. As an adult I can choose not to be alone but I don't...I can't...for some reason it makes me feel better but worse at the same time...alone means no one can hurt me...can judge me...but alone also means no one can hear me or know me or hold me...the trade off isn't always worth it...but it's real.

Mirrors...mirrors are hard to look into sometimes...it's one of the reasons I can't always look directly into peoples' eyes...it's like a mirror...seeing what I see when I look in the mirror in their eyes is a big fear of mine...I work hard so they don't get the information I know about my past so they can't judge me or feel pity...so I don't have to see it in their eyes. Mirrors...people's eyes...they are the same...if someone really loves you can they know about the abuse and accept you with all your flaws and insecurities? Will they accept you? Can they understand the feelings of fear or total doom that you felt as a child and how sometimes something can trigger that same feeling? Can they understand that you still know and carry some pain around with you...part of it comes from the comfort, as it's what you know...some of it comes from the fear of letting it go and feeling positive feelings that you have always wanted to feel, but are afraid of finally feeling what you have so longed for. Can they understand that you need someone to be there for you when you can't tell them because you don't want to come across as weak?

Today I have a cold...no one has checked on me or asked if I needed anything. Alone...yep, that's how I feel...it's times like this that remind me of being a child and needing someone to help me to save me and no one came...no one still does....

I'm tired, and before anyone mentions...I am in therapy...been in there for 3 years...though my insurance is investigating to make sure I still need it or if something else can help. It has helped! But how do you convince them...? If they take away my therapy...life for me will change...I only hope to find the strength to be able to continue on my own....

Today I have a cold...today I feel alone...today I don't want to look in the mirror....

Tomorrow I hope to feel better...tomorrow I hope to find I'm no longer alone and tomorrow I will stand in front of the mirror again...eyes closed...but I am standing there....

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From touched2mysoul Part 5" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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Child Abuse Story From Touched2mysoul Part 6

by touched2mysoul
(USA)

Tired-that's right I'm tired. I have always had to fight to have. I had to grow up fast. Learn to take care of myself to keep myself safe. I had to learn to see and understand the mental games she would play. I worked as a child...cleaning the house. I washed the baseboards, the window sills, the floors, the furniture...a bucket and some kinda soap. No childhood, no time to just be.

I am grown, kids of my own, house of my own, car, dog. I am tired though...tired of taking care of everyone else. No one ever took care of me...I always had to be strong, figure it out, hang in there by myself! I now carry all the responsibilities of a mother with children. I love them but I'm tired!

I have done none of what my mother did to me...my goal with my children was to show them love, give them self esteem, not rob them of it. I have done a good job, says all who meet them. Still I am tired. Me...inside I'm tired.

I work at a job that is very stressful, add to the fact that I have to do the best job I can because I don't want people to think less of me...(this is lovely gift my mother gave me). The ability to work myself to death to be as perfect as I can be...I am tired.

Once you pass the age of childhood to look for that which you missed out on doesn't seem to ever come again. Once you grow up too fast it is almost impossible to go back and get what was taken from you. I am tired, bills, fix this fix that, get up go to work, come home be a mom. The cycle doesn't end...the nightmares, the pain of always questioning if you are good enough, of questioning if you will ever feel better...feel enough to get on with your life...know that what you are feeling is "normal" or not, some escalated feeling as a result of what was done to you as a kid.
I am tired. The struggle to correct the damage done is tiring. I struggle and right now I'm struggling with having never had anyone take care of me...and me being tired of that being true. I want someone to bring me a cup of tea because they think it might be a nice thing to do, without me having to ask...or make dinner for me because they want to, without me having to ask...I'd love to have someone just do for me the way I do for everyone else.

I was trained by the best (my mother) at second guessing the needs of others...I don't mind doing because that's what I do now...almost like second nature...but no one has ever done for me...I had to emotionally take care of my mom by being her little whipping board, verbally and physically. I was her personal work horse...my dad didn't protect me...he didn't save me so I figured out how to save myself. Well, I'm tired of saving me...

My point is simple: I wish for the days of childhood that I have never experienced...days of no responsibility, days of endless care, days of safety and playing...even as an adult I have never had that...

I went looking for love in the wrong place as soon as I hit adulthood, and three children and a divorce later, I realized you can't find what you have never had.

I write this for those who are the victims of abuse, but also for those who may read this and find they are the ones abusing...I have never had the love that I feel I deserved as a child, I have never felt the safety I should have been given as a child, and I never will...but just because I didn't get it doesn't mean that I passed that to my children. I have given them self esteem, love and a strong sense of who they are. I have never treated them how I was treated and I never would. I have given them my words and my thoughts of how special they are...how appreciated they are for who they are as their back-up voices in their head. I want them to have my good thoughts of them, my hugs, my words of encouragement in their hearts and their minds that they can pull from when the world doesn't seem to be a friendly place for them.

Child abuse is such a terrible thing. Its effects are hurtful well past the actual event. God Bless those who have been through it. Though I am tired with my own life and lack of having...I don't pass that along...I stopped the cycle in my family... maybe someone will read this and stop that cycle too...

Before anyone comments about therapy...I'm there. I go and it helps...still feel tired though...still struggle with so much... but my kids don't, and that's really what it's about.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Touched2mysoul Part 6" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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

Child Abuse Story From Touched2mysoul Part 7

by touched2mysoul
(USA)

Haunted...that's the word that best describes something I know...something I remember...something I still feel...the fear was so real it had a taste, it had physicalness, it had movement, it was like a person, someone I would later learn that I would know forever.

It has no name...but it has sounds...it has no face but it has feelings, it has movement, it has life...it can't breathe, it shakes with fear...it waits...it is fear personified...it is impending doom. It is a nightly visitor now...it is not my friend, though it is as close to me as a best friend should be. It is not kind or sweet or caring. It is not fluffy or cute or soft or warm. Its signature is simple–it qualifies as one's total lifetime experience of fear in a one-shot dose.

A Shot...shoot...something I still remember, "click"...something I still hear...fear climbing up my back...grasping my heart...stopping for a minute to grab my throat, seizing my breathing. My hands are tied. My voice is in the off position. My eyes are trained on what I see in front of me...my mind thinks quickly about what will happen...too much, can't figure it out...quickly I figure my brother will be safe...I will be no more but at least he won't have this memory...She takes me down memory lane... not mine but hers...she is such a sharing individual...she shares all of her hate, pain and anger on me, towards me. She gives it freely...no one could say she was stingy. She fills my small cup of self with all her dismal, dark, negative thoughts, observations and truths. I am lost in them....then in an instant...by the pull of the trigger on the gun "Click"...she has changed my world forever...she birthed someone who would be with me forever, she birthed someone that would grow with me, Someone who sleeps sometimes but can be so awake, vivid and real at others. She gave life to fear in sleep—Nightmares...haunting.

The child she birthed...it only has one parent...my mother birthed it and it lives with me as if it is my twin. I close my eyes to sleep, to dream...to find peace and she is there waiting to share what she alone knows...the amazement for me is the realness, the details, the taste of fear, the feelings in my legs and arms...the "Click"...it is all recorded and plays like a feature film staring me. She is an amazing individual who holds vivid pictorials with sound, lights, action and real terrorizing emotion. What I have learned is that the memories of Nightmare child have always been there...but she was given full life potential that night. She may have only developed into a possibility or an occasional visitor prior to that night...the night that life was breathed into her soul....and she continues to fight to survive, though I fight often to silence her...

Haunting...that's her name...she is my Nightmares...she is my pain...she is my fear...she is me not safe, she is me exposed, she is me screaming inside, she is me bleeding, she is me bruised, she is me scared, she is me being beaten, she is me being shamed, she is me hurt, she is me battered, she is me alone. She is me...that's my point...the nightmares are me...they are me personified. They are me...and me is her...I struggle to get rid of her...but that's the point...she is me...and I am her...I hope to find a way we can co-exist in a world where my sleep and dreams are no longer dues that I pay to be awake in a world that I struggle so hard to be me (without disassociating) in.

May God Bless all those who experience Nightmares due to being abused as children...the children in us deserve safety...the adult in us deserves a good night's sleep...

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Touched2mysoul Part 7" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

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

Child Abuse Story From touched2mysoul Part 8

by touched2mysoul
(USA)

Powerless- thats what it did... It made me feel powerless... I couldnt stop her... I couldnt NOT go home even when I knew she was going to beat me...I had to do exactly what she said ... even when i knew that what she said to do was going to hurt me....it ment that i was going to be hurt, scared, alone ...I had to find the strength to walk into pain... to sacrifice myself to survive...To sacrifice my feelings, my emotions, my dreams, my skin, my pain, my self esteem, my self worth, my tears, my needs, my worth, my smile, my self confidence, my trust, my essence, my heart, my safety.... I still sacrifice today.... My power now is in the control of my needs... its in the power to depend on myself only... I learned a lesson as a child that only me can i depend on... Only me...
I learned from the best... I can thank her for everything from the success i have to the pain I have inside me...

My pain is my twin... sometimes my twin sleeps... but sometimes she is alive and well and very much who I am... Its usually when the world around me stresses me or my life choices make me feel powerless... I feel powerless today! No one knows this... its the secret I have learned to hide well....Its times like this i wish for the safety of someone who just listens and allows me to fall apart.. who can hold me and just allow me to fall apart... cry, scream, complain, and feel the pain..my pain. Allow me to feel that its safe to be weak for a moment.. that its safe to be vulnerable even if just for a moment. All the while them knowing that I will find my way back but that i need to fall into safety... I wish i had that. For just a moment I wish that I can be heard, understood and not judged for my fears, pain, and tears... or the exhaustion i feel from having to be strong all the time. I wish to be accepted for the pain that i feel daily.... I wish to have the comforts of safety in showing emotion such as pain, tears, weakness, tiredness... I have a lot of pain inside.. and though i cant tell her.... I have made progress because i typed it here and now its out there.... "Mother you hurt me!"

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

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Child Abuse Story From touched2mysoul Part 9

by touched2mysoul
(USA)

Question? Anyone else notice that their threshold for emotional pain has risen over the years? My threshold for emotional pain continues to rise... Its a learned behavior... I understand that now... My mother would hurt me one day.. and then the next raise the bar on the pain both physical and emotional.. I couldnt take it so I eventually learned to disassociate (this took forever to learn) Disassociating killed me and changed who i was...before that I would wish with everything in me that i wouldnt be hurt.. that she would stop.. I would feel in my very core a frustration so overwhelming and all consuming because i couldnt make her stop... no matter how much i cried, or i tried to scream... (very early on (age 3 or 4) she stopped me from screaming..saying i had done wrong so i should take my beatings like a woman and no crying..crying ment she would hit you more times 5 hits with all her might for each wimper you made)... I learned to stuff my pain down in a tube...and as it would rise up to the top of the tube i would force it down again all the while putting more pain on top of it... It was the only thing i could control... my threshold of pain!... Crying? No.. crying didnt change the amount of pain in the tube... because she was after me in one way or another everyday... Today I still force pain down the tube... its what i know... My threshold for emotional pain has expanded over the years...When it starts to come to the top and spill over I push it down... Its a survival technique that I learned...
Children who are safe and loved and respected can freely express their joys, sorrows, pain, etc... without shame, ridicule, harm or embarrasment... Freedom to express ones emotions is a right all children are entitled to... If the right is taken away as a child... it can take a lifetime (if ever) to get it back...God Bless those who had their rights taken away....

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

I hope you'll follow me on:


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A Change to my Email Address

by touched2mysoul
(USA)

I follow this site and will be forever grateful for the space you allowed me to tell my story... thanks darlene...I had to change my email address so I'm hoping you get this and I can continue to get your notifications.

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

I hope you'll follow me on:


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