This child abuse story from Kelly page was
created March 23, 2007 and was originally posted on March 6, 2007 as story #89.
Kelly is from Los Angeles, California, USA
The following child abuse story from Kelly
depicts physical abuse, emotional abuse, child neglect, and sexual abuse.
The child abuse effects on Kelly: childhood sexualized behaviour, anger, restlessness, confusion, bullying, fire-setting, fear of adults, sense of responsibility for parents, paranoia, shame, inability to make eye contact, quick-tempered, bloody noses from beatings, questioning of sexual orientation, alcoholism, relationship difficulties, inability to trust others, difficulty keeping jobs, sexual arousal problems, extreme modesty, isolation, no friends, bleak outlook on life
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I have been grappling with the effects of child abuse all of my adult life.
I was physically, emotionally and sexually abused from as early as my memory permits. And naturally, there was neglect. I grew up in a violent home.
My first memory is of my father raging at my mother. She would rage back as well, and they finally divorced when I was four. My mother was highly unstable; she hated my father with venomous passion. I was labeled ‘his’ daughter. “You are just like your demonic father!” I still wonder how she could say this to a five-year-old, but that was really the least of my childhood troubles.
My mother would regularly beat me and play emotional games with me, rejecting my hugs and pleas for help or love. Weekends with my father were so unpredictable, anything could happen. Sometimes I would be subjected to pornography and invited to play ‘naked games’. I remember practicing French kissing with him. Or if I did something he didn’t like, he would flip out and beat me. I was always confused, restless, and angry as a child.
I began to bully the children at school, and I was afraid of all adults. I was left alone often; my mother would not hire babysitters after my brother left for good. So around age seven I would be unsupervised. I would set fires in the back yard. Some of the fires got so out of control, the neighbors would call the police; I would hide in closets as they knocked on the door. Regardless of how my parents treated me, I never wanted them to get in trouble, and I was old enough to know that they would if other adults knew.
After the fire incidents, my mother sent me to her boyfriend’s sons after school. The teenage boys were less than thrilled to have an eight-year-old girl tag along, until they discovered I knew sexual things. Then began four years of forced sexual abuse.
It started out as a game. I was not allowed to play video games until I played with the teen boy’s penis like it was a joystick. This progressed to watching pornos and then forced to imitate the porno scenes. I was raped at the age of ten.
I drew a picture at school of oral sex and penises and naked women in trash cans. The principal called my mother. My mother told me to stop being such a “creepy child.” This really took a toll on me. I became paranoid that people knew I was doing these things to the brothers. I felt heavy amounts of shame. I stopped looking people in the eyes. I had a quick temper and always locked my door. Word got around to other teen boys, and I would have visitors. This horrified me, and sometimes I would do sexual favors for them, in hopes that I would just have to do this once. Or maybe I just did because I didn’t know how else to handle boys.
Around the same time, I received a severe beating from my father that ended me ever going to his house again. He beat me to the point that I felt it would never end. I thought I could die. All because I forgot what his girlfriend got me for my birthday. After the beating, I stayed in bed and attacked anyone who entered. He apologized later by covering my neck in hickies. I begged to go to my mother’s house, and when I called her, she said it would hurt my dad’s feelings if I left. I will never forget that.
The sexual abuse from the teen boys continued until I was twelve. It ended when one teen boy cornered me in the garage and tried to rape me again. I fought him off. His dad overheard the struggle and called him out. They moved shortly after. I never told anyone.
My mother continued to belittle and abuse me. There were fights often. I got bloody noses, slaps, my homework ripped up, and in the end, if I fought back she would scream, "You are just like your father", the man who beat her. She also told me I would never make anything of my life and that I was weak.
I never dated in high school; I never could stand being touched. I questioned if I could be gay. As soon as I turned eighteen I left, first to the army, then to college. In those years, I turned to excessive drinking. I could be sexual with a man if drunk, and I always got drunk. I married at twenty to a man that was much like the man that molested me. My husband also slept around all the time. He even slept with my brother’s wife, and their marriage was destroyed. Around this time, I received treatment for alcoholism. By the grace of God, I am sober today.
I have a degree in Math and Psychology; however, I still fear people and have a hard time keeping a job. I suffer from depression and anxiety. I am still with my husband, as strange as it sounds. Overall, he has been kinder to me than anyone that has been close to me. I still recognize the relationship is not healthy. In my drinking years, I put him through hell. Now sober, I have sexual arousal problems and extreme modesty. I am isolated. I have no friends, and I am incapable of trusting others. Some days I wonder if I can go on. The pain doesn’t subside and the burden seems heavier.
I truly hope I will be able to recover and embrace life.
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 Kelly was re-formatted June 3, 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.