Child Abuse Story From Undisclosed Female

by Undisclosed Female
(Virginia, USA)

My story or at least vague parts of it: 
I don't know why I'm writing this. I don't know why I'm writing this? I know I told myself that if I wrote it down, I would never ever show it to anyone, and yet, for some reason I'm doing it now. You know for the longest time, I wasn't even aware. In 8th grade I even remember watching 20/20 specials and praying to God that it never happened to me, I had buried it that much. I didn't even know.

I come from a good family, and very good Christian family. My dad is a good doctor, and my mom was a lawyer for awhile till she just stayed with being a mom. I have 3 older siblings who are very smart like my mom and dad. I'm kind of-well not-I'm good at art, I'm an animator and good at cartoons. They gave us everything we wanted/needed, and loved us, just every so often....

I'm 25 now, and really struggling with all the memories that are popping up uncontrollably now, and won't go away. In 2005, was almost raped by my best friend in college, Jared. I stopped long enough to hide in my bathroom and not let go all the way, but it was traumatizing enough because although I was 21, I was reeeeally innocent. I didn't even know what sex was, much less thought about it, and I didn't know what was going on when it started happening. We were just watching anime in my dorm room. I have come to terms with that, although it took a very long time. After it happened (May), I got really depressed, and my parents just denied it happening, and my mom kept telling me to "only come to her when I wasn't upset."

When summer came, I couldn't go home for the summer because Mom said she rented out my room to my cousin, and still didn't want to bring up my situation with me. My dad is the no emotion except anger type, and he never wants to talk. I had made two very good friends over the years before, but one was in Canada and the other in Texas. They let me talk to them, but it wasn't the same. I got more depressed. By the end of the summer I was feeling a little better, but then my mom started blaming me for all of it, and saying "she expected it to happen" and "that it was my fault anyways." I was so upset; at the time I was spending a week at a friend's that was a few hours away from my college. I was gonna kill myself but they saved me.

That one incident from college within a few months made me remember so many bad things from my childhood.

When I was 8 I was sexually abused by my best friend. He was 13, but I didn't know it was bad. At the time, my parents believed in corporal punishment for the stupidest things. Mostly for bad grades. To them, anything under a 'B' was you being lazy, or not trying hard enough so you got the belt every week for bad grades. Since I was the only book stupid one, I was the one mostly hit. My 2 older sisters were geniuses. And my older brother too. My parents said you can't feel the punishment unless its bare bottom. But if you did something like talk back, or act nasty to your siblings it was worse. He'd hit you everywhere then, always with the belt, always till you were red. Mom didn't do anything. Sometimes she would hold my hands so I couldn't stop the hitting. Lectures and whipping. I don't think I ever learned anything, I was just afraid to get bad grades. I even tried cheating a lot, just to get better grades. It was always worse with that. After getting in trouble, I was sent down the street to my friend's house for his gramma to babysit me while Mom/Dad went out. Siblings were at other friend's houses too. One day JD and I were in his room above the garage. He knew about Mom/Dad's discipline methods too. He said he loved me and told me he'd never do anything to hurt me like Mom and Dad did. I told him I loved him back. He was my best friend, of course I did. It was like family love. He said he'd show me what real love was, and that's when the fondling started. He'd take off my clothes and his, and touch me down there, or oral. I didn't stop him; I'm ashamed that I kinda liked it. I just let him do what he wanted. It wasn't spanking like Mom and Dad's love, which still went on.

After about a year, I was getting uncomfortable; he said I wasn't suppose to tell for the longest time. That nobody told about this kind of love, but I wasn't sure after a year. When I said I would tell, he got mean, and slapped me hard. He pulled all my clothes off and forced me on the bed, and I still didn't stop him. I let him. I didn't fuss, I just cried. Then he put his fingers in me, and it hurt so bad I was shivering all over. I couldn't move. I kept saying, "I'll never tell anybody" over and over until he stopped about 10 minutes later. I just laid there and cried. I didn't do anything. After, he took me to his bathroom and pushed me into the shower and washed me all over.

After that, he did what he wanted, like the stuff from before, but then every two weeks was the threatening with the same method that one fateful day when I said I'd tell, and I just let it happen. The stuff at home, and then this with JD.

I did not like being a kid. I had loads of friends, but I was a very good actor, and they didn't know anything. JD would start making me look at the underwear section of Sears and JC Penny catalogs and then he did things to me. No one noticed my slipping grades because my grades were already low to begin with. He'd mess with me everywhere (my tree house, his room, my room). I hated it, and yet I did nothing. I refuse to say any details. I'm sorry. The stuff with JD went on till I was 12, and then I started the after school track team. And going over to friends' houses to help me with homework. My parents still don't believe me about all that. The discipline with Mom and Dad kept going, and when I had to repeat 8th grade, I got a horrible whipping. Worse than all the others, it still scares me.

I still keep up with my friend in Texas, Justin and his wife. He's my mentor in animation and kinda like a big brother, and his wife loves me soooo much too. They let me tell them all this stuff no matter what time it is. I'm out of school and living at home, but Mom and Dad are still abusive. Justin and his wife say its emotional abuse, and it's been happening all my life from the memories I tell them, and they tell me to get out, but I can't leave them. My second once older sister is now mentally challenged and I have to take care of her. She's abusive too, and Mom and Dad don't stop her at all.

Mom is like a roller coaster. She loves me and is soo nice, and then yells at me for stupid stuff, and says I'm stupid, or to shut up or she says hurtful things...belittling me. And then she says sorry, and is nice again, and then it happens bad a few days later or a week, and she says sorry, but I'm scared every time. Mom attacks me a lot with hurtful words. It scares me so much and I tell Justin, and he and his wife tell me I have to get out. I'm trying to move out by the end of this month. I'm still too scared too, but I'm gonna move to Texas, to be near them. I'm gonna try. I don't know how tomorrow will be. My mom has always called me stupid, and treated me as such, and I don't like it, and I wanna leave. My oldest sister is coming with me for support, and to look for work out there too.

That's my story. I'm sorry-I don't know why I'm saying sorry-I'm still dealing with the pain from my past. It hurts. I'm afraid to shower or take baths. I'm a freak. I hate myself for that fear. My body reacts to the memories and I hate it. I don't know how to stop any of this. I have support from friends, but I just want love from my parents, like they love my other siblings. I want things to go back to the way they were before Jared made me remember. I hate myself for telling it here. Why am I doing this again? I'm sorry.

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.

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Child Abuse Story From Moo

by Moo (Undisclosed Female)
(USA)

At the end of Part 1 of my story, I wasnt quite sure if I could move away from my abusers (ie. my parents). But I did. Friends helped me. They were close to flying out to VA and dragging me away from them. Even though they couldnt afford to, they were going to do it anyways.
About a month after I wrote the story above, I moved away from my family, and have been living with J & G for two years now, slowly healing. It has been such a blessing, I have a new family in a way, and as soon as I moved out, and came to Texas all these memories started flooding back. Too many to count, I filled up 5 notebooks full of flashbacks. G says that because I was now safe, my brain could process all the crap that I went through in a safe environment.
Flashbacks haunted my dreams, haunted me in my sleep, for a long time, and I started to realize just how bad my parents acted towards me. The memories are unbearable, and I still dont understand why they beat me so much.
My parents are still administering emotional abuse on me. They've been trying to get my to move back home this entire time. Even now.
My parents...well, I confronted them with all this abuse stuff this time last year. They were furious that I had told the family secret. They came here to "visit" but J and G wouldnt let them come to the house, and we only met them at a restaurant, and only with them with me. Never by myself. They still threaten even now.
The thing they hate the most, is the people I'm living with. The friends who saved me. J and G are mormon, which is apparently a very bad thing. And I never understood why, I just remember for the longest time, Mom and Dad always said that mormons were evil and that they were going to hell. After I moved here and in with them, memories started coming back about that mormon thing.
I had a friend when i was little who was mormon. I went to private christian school my whole life, the same one in fact. My parents refused to let me be friends with her. They said she was evil. If I talked to her and hung out with her they would beat me. They said they didnt want the devil any more in me than he already was. And I got "lessons" for being friends with a mormon. Dad would drag me back to his room with Mom, and strip me naked, and tie my hands to his top dresser and whip me with his belt over and over and over again for almost a half and hour while Mom read scripture verses to why I was now evil too. Dad would slam me into furniture, and slap me and yell at me until I got the point. Over and over they would do this to me every day for a week. Then on Sunday they would take me to the church, into a back room where they would tell the pastor and then he would "deal with me." That usually meant the same thing with Dad's help. And they would whip me till I couldnt stand, and I crouched in the corner repeating bible verses to them about how I was receiving the love of God through this week long ritual, and I was almost clean. I was 7 when this happened. I never talked to my friend again after that. I didnt want to go to hell.
Through all that, my grandma lived with us. She was my Dad's mom, and was convinced, I was full of the devil, and that I needed the devil beaten from me every week. Dad always listened to her, and always agreed. It was in these sessions Mom was never around. Neither was anybody else for that matter. All my other siblings were always someplace else. Dad always stripped me naked for every beating. He always tied my hands above my head, and always whipped me with full force of his leather belt. They always poured "holy water" on me, and spouted bible verses at me during these times. When i tried to run away Dad would grab me and slam me into furniture, and then whip me longer because I was in the devil's clutches. There were times were he took me outside to the dog pen that was 20x20ft, attached to the side of the house, and surrounded my 6ft tall bushes, and tied me to the fence to whip me in the rain, and shove me in the mud, and trees. I would be red and raw afterwards, and could barely move. I wasn't allowed to cry out during any of this. During any punishment for anything. He would jsut make it longer if I did. Or Mom would say I was trying to get attention, and tell me to shut up and slap me, or slam me into furniture and walls. I never cried out after awhile, but I did cry. After 3 years of this, my grandma went to live in a nursing home, and life just went back to the normal punishments. For grades mostly. We had weekly grade sheets sent home, and you got whipped for about 20min if you got any grades under a B. I got whipped alot. I wasn't the smartest in the bunch. My two older sisters and older brother never got grades under a B.
I hated myself so much during that time. I really honestly thought I deserved everything I got, because I was always full of the devil, and I could never do anything right with homework and tests. I found one of journals that I wrote when I was 9 recently. There were entries in it full of poetry, and I wrote stuff about punishing my stuffed animals, and my troll dolls. I wrote that I thought I really was a devil child, and God would never love me because of what I did to my toys. I never made the connection that I was doing to them what Mom and Dad were doing to me. I'd strip them of the clothes I put on them and whip them, and beat them up, and my toys would beg me to stop, but I didnt. Then afterwards I would cry and cry and say that I loved them and I was sorry.
I'm 27, and I have problems with getting naked just to take a shower. It always terrifies me. While I was here, I also remembered why I couldnt take a bath, or put my head under water when i go to a pool.
When I was young, I was very small for my age, and I was a bed wetter. I couldnt help it. I really tried to stop. Honest I did. When I was 5 to about 11 I could stop. I'd wake up in the middle of the night, and have to wake up Mom. She got mad that I was taking time away from her sleep, and that if she didnt get enough sleep she wouldn't be able to have the energy to love me during the day. Mom would take me to her bathroom and strip me, and put me in the tub, and scrub me raw with a loofah, especially down there to where it hurt so much. She always put me in scolding hot water, and then gave me a spanking afterwards while I was still wet and naked. Then we'd go back to my room and she'd change the sheets, and make me go back to bed.
After a year Mom got tired of doing it and made my Dad take over. he was vicious. He'd also strip me and shove me in the tub and scrub me raw, especially down there, and then he would dunk me under the water and hold me there for maybe 5 sec. I'd come back up and then he'd insist I still stank and scrub me harder down there, and then dunk me again. He always did this several times. Afterwards, he got his belt and whipped me and then take me out of the tub. But he wouldn't let me get a towel or my clothes. He'd make me march back upstairs, at that point I could barely walk, and change my own sheets and clean my bed while he watched. I could barely move, and I wanted to get dressed. Before I could get dressed and go back to bed, he would shove me in a corner and tower over me, and call me useless and stupid, and to never do it again or my punishment would be longer. I always promised never to do it again, but I could never keep that promise till I was about 11. Dad took over when I was 8.
I dont understand why my parents singled me out to this day. Why I was always stupid, and could never do anything right, or understand things. G has been helping me alot while Ive been here. Ive been seeing a counselor for over a year now, and getting better, but still dont understand God very much, and why I had to go through all this. But I'm getting better. During my time here Ive also been diagnosed with dyslexia, and aspergers, and have been getting help with that. Mom and Dad say that no one in their family has autism, and have been using that info as ammunition.
Mom still degrades me on the phone, and I just want to make her proud. She's not always like that, but....well, its like a roller coaster. Dad is getting better, he's a roller coaster too, but I still hate them both. And I hate my other siblings for deliberately getting me in trouble all those years because they knew what would happen.
Most of my flashbacks have been about my parents, but some have been of JD and everything he made me do (see part one to understand that stuff). Ive been wanting to give an update for the last week or so, but Ive been afraid to put it up here and be an even bigger freak than I was before with the first story. I'm sorry this was so long. I have more to say, but I dont want to scare anybody away so you dont comment or something. I dont want to burden anybody...that's it!
My home wasn't always bad, it really was just me that made it bad. If I didnt...I dont know...if I wasn't such a...then maybe...if I was a genius like my siblings then...I'm sorry. I'll end it here.

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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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