child abuse story from Courtney page was created July 22, 2006 and was
originally posted on June 18, 2006 as story #21.
is from New Jersey, USA.
following child abuse story from Courtney depicts physical abuse and emotional
The child abuse effects on Courtney: drug abuse and alcohol abuse.
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have really never written down my story of abuse . . . well here it is . . .
mom had me when she was only 16 years old, and my father was 18. He stuck
around, but from stories from my mom, he was very abusive towards her. He would
hit her when she was pregnant with me and call her names. And then she got
pregnant again with my lil' sister when she was 18, then again with my other
lil' sister when she was 21. All three of us are my father's kids. We moved into
a house in a decent community in New Jersey.
I was in the second grade, I woke up to screams and yells from my mom and she
was screaming like she was being killed so I run outta my room and walk into
the kitchen and see my father punching her in the face and she was on the
ground and spaghetti sauce and blood was all over the kitchen and my two rottys
were going crazy barking and my mom tells me to take the phone and go call 911
and I did and ran into my room but for some reason I couldn't call. I was
frozen. I didn't know what to do. Then my dad came and took the phone from me
and told me everything was going to be okay . . . that . . . they were just
fighting. Then my lil' sisters woke up and they were crying and didn't know
what to do. Finally--I guess a neighbor--called the cops, cuz there was a knock
at my door and it was them, and they arrested my father. That day I remember,
always, cuz it was Fathers Day.
mom and dad started going out a lot partying. I found pot all the time and even
though I was so young I knew what it
was. People would be at our house a lot.
mom started verbally abusing me. She would call me fat . . . gross . . . slut .
. . nasty . . . pig . . . c**t . . . anything. She would hit me, jump on top of
me, and start hitting me. Never really too much to my lil' sisters, but mostly
me. When she would go to hit them, I would take the blame so she would come
after me and not them.
mom and dad were always fighting, saying f**kedup shit to each other. My dad
would beat my mom a lot . . . and we would always leave or my mom would kick
him out, but either way, we would be back, or he would be back.
my dad's mother died, and my dad was severely hooked on heroine. By then, my
dad stopped hitting my mom cuz she would go after him with knives and use
blackmail against him. He was scared.
my dad was using heroine, I was a freshman in high school. My mom would work
all the time. I would come home from school, just walk in the door and my dad
would be like "You nasty fat c**t" and be like "Clean
this", "You're a failure", "You're nothing". When I
would say something to him or cry, he would throw his lighter, ashtrays,
anything at me, or he would get up and punch me or hit me with the mop, put his
foot on my chest and just stomp on it, slap me, kick me, hit me with shoes . .
mom would never come home cuz she was working and out partying all the time,
which made things a lot worse. One time, my sister didn't put a frying pan
away. My dad hit her in the face with it. My 2 sisters would always try and not
be home. They would go to friends' houses, family, anything so my dad couldn't
hurt them. I was glad. They didn't need that. He would always say sorry . . .
then about a week later, right back to the same routine.
started talking to my school counselor, and then Social Services came in and
took me and my sisters away. They put us with our grandparents, which was fine
with me. But they couldn't control me cuz I was always fighting with them. I
was angry, in a rage all the time, doing drugs, drinking. Then my case worker
sent me to programs--rehab child behavioral programs, finally a group home
(which is like a halfway house for teenagers). I started counseling, let
everything out, and finally went back home. My dad was home and everything was
fine. My mom and me would get in fights and call each other names, but then we
would be able to talk about it and get through it.
my dad started using again, but was never verbally or physically abusive to us
again. That's how we didn't know he was using until he robbed a house with his
lil' brother and went to jail.
mom was never, or is never, home. She is always out
partying. Her new boyfriend is Mexican.
dad is out of jail now, but my mom and him are going through a divorce. He
still is home on the weekends and sometimes during the week. He is trying to
get his life better and trying to win my mom back.
don't know what is going to happen and I really don't care, as long as they
keep me and my sisters out of it. I don't care what they do as long as it
doesn't affect us in anyway.
After going through this and counseling, I realize it's not my fault. I thought it was my fault for so long. I would cut myself, do so many drugs at a young age--I'm only going to be 18 now. When guys even jokingly play fight with me, I bug out. But I realized that it wasn't my fault at all. Finally realizing that made me a stronger person today. I know now never to put myself in a relationship with an abusive guy, and that I'm not alone. And for whoever is reading this, you are not alone either.
NOTE: Information pages on this site were based on material from the
Canadian Red Cross RespectED Training Program. Written permission was obtained to use their copyrighted material on this site.
Child abuse story from Courtney was re-formatted May 31, 2015
From Victim to Victory
How I got over the devastating effects of child abuse and moved on with my life
Mar 24, 17 08:13 AM
My name is Pamela T. I was adopted as an infant, into a home of one older brother. Shortly after adoption, my parents had another child, my sister. At
Mar 23, 17 09:26 AM
My father and mother had divorced when I was 7, and I knew that my father was an extremely manipulative and abusive man. My mom always told me that he
Mar 23, 17 09:08 AM
As a third grader, a fourth grader, a fifth grader, and finally, a sixth grader, I was abused. If you had known me back then, you would have never guessed.