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Child Abuse Story From
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 This child abuse story from Lizzybeth page was created August 19, 2007 and was originally posted to my child abuse stories page on August 7, 2007 as story #174.
Lizzybeth is from Fort Wayne, Indiana, USA The following child abuse story from Lizzybeth depicts: physical abuse, emotional abuse and child neglect The child abuse effects on Lizzybeth: fear of being hit, feelings of betrayal and abandonment, sadness
The abuse I have endured, is mild compared to others. When I was just one years old, I met Aaron, my future baby sister's dad. I also met my lifelong best friend Marie. When I was just two, my little sister Gabs was born. I was so happy to have a little sister. Sadly, she died three months later. She was taking a nap on her tummy when it happened. She died from Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. I don't remember much about her, but I sometimes have a dream about seeing her at the hospital the day she was found dead. For years I had not realized I was dreaming of my sister. After Gabs died, her father started his abuse. He would yell at me when I did not eat all of my dinner. And if I had not finished everything on my plate, he would pick me up by my arm and started hitting me hard on the bottom with his hand. Sometimes when he was not in the room, my older sister, my savior, would take the food off of my plate and put it on her plate just so I would not get hit. This continued to go on until I was about six. I suppose he realized what he was doing was wrong, as I was not his child, and stopped hitting me altogether. There was only one time where I actually deserved a spanking. My best friend Marie and I were arguing over something and I pinched her. She bit me back and told her uncle Aaron. He spanked us both. That was the only time I deserved it. Every other time was just to take out his anger on me. He was a drug abuser, so I suppose sometimes that had something to do with how hard he spanked me. From the time I was born, my mother was never the good mother I wanted her to be. She was late to my first birthday party because she went to see her boyfriend. And after the death of my little sister, I really never felt her love. She rarely hugged me, said I love you and parked me with my grandmother when she was working, with a boyfriend or out at a concert with my older sister. She was not around much was I was growing up and she still isn't really there for me when I need her. I lived with my grandmother when my mom and Aaron split when I was eight. (My mom would sometimes tell Aaron that because I was not his kid, he should not spank me. But it did not stop her from leaving him. She left after she caught him in the basement with drugs.) My mom lived with me too, but I don't call her my mom anymore. After reflecting upon my life, I claim my grandmother as my real mommy. Although she can be on the mean side, and she yelled at me a lot of the time, she was always there when I needed her the most. I don't know what I would do without her. I have been trying to forget about my physical and emotional abuse that I had to deal with during my childhood. But it is sometimes difficult. The only time I can really smile is if I am with Marie, my older sister, my grandma or with my nephews and nieces. They are the reason I get up in the morning and I could never live without them. I am not sure if what I have dealt with over years would be considered abuse. Most people say spanking is not abuse. I, however, believe it is. I lived in fear of the man I was tricked into calling my father for six years. I was always fearful that if I had not eaten all my dinner, I would be hit again. Which I suppose would explain why I now always finish my plate. I am still fearful that if I don't, someone will come and hit me. I am learning to accept the things that happened to me during those years. They happened, and I can't go back in time and change that. The only thing I can do is try to move forward and begin to heal. I am a senior in high school now. And if all goes well this year, I hope to go to college to become a child psychologist. This way I can help other kids who endured similar pain or much worse pain. Then they to can begin the healing process and try to live their lives without pain and without fear. If I learned anything from my years of abuse, its that no child ever deserves to live that kind of life. Children deserve to live with parents who care about them enough to know when to walk away and take their child away from dangerous situations. When I have children, I hope that I will realize what is going on if my child is being hit too, and walk away from a relationship, no matter how hard it might be. Because that child will mean the world to me and I would not want it to feel the same pain and fear that I felt as a child. My Advice to others: "Be not who you wish others to see you as. But be who you are and live your life to the fullest. Everyday is a new day." This is Lizzybeth's 2nd child abuse story installment, originally posted August 9, 2007 on my Stories page as story #175 The following child abuse story from Lizzybeth depicts: emotional abuse and bullying The child abuse effects on Lizzybeth: the emotional abuse at the hands of her grandmother may have set Lizzybeth up for bullying Bullying. It started with my grandma. I was trying on a pair of my favoritepants to see if they still fit. They didn't. My grandma said that if I wasn'tso fat they would fit. Another time was at my twelfth birthday party. Icomplained that I didn't want any little kids at my party. She got mad, tookthe kids, called me a selfish, spoiled brat and left. Since then my birthdayshave all sucked. During my second year of middle school, I suffered through theworst school year of my life. A boy sitting behind me in Science classconstantly called me fatso every time I saw him. I tried my best to ignore himand pay attention to the teacher, but it was hard. I was in an orchestra classas well, my second year of playing the violin. I was a few people away frombeing the last chair. Each month or two our teacher held auditions for theclass to try and be placed in a different spot for concerts. It was my turn toplay and I nailed it. I barely slipped, but I was nervous the whole time. Atthe end of class, the teacher announced the arrangements, and I found out I wasgoing to be in the sixth chair. This was a huge deal for any violin player. Itwas my biggest accomplishment yet and my fellow violin playing friends wereexcited and happy for me. But others didn't see it that way. I had bumped agirl who was sixth into the seventh chair. She was not happy about it. Shecomplained to her friends that I had cheated. Which is impossible when playingthe violin. One day during practice, the girl ahead of me, she was a friend ofthe seventh chair girl, she complained to the teacher that she could not hearme playing during the practice. The teacher said not to worry about otherpeople. The teacher said nothing to me, but that comment left me shocked. Therewere other players in her ear playing their instruments so it was impossible totell if I was playing loud enough. I burst into to tears as everyone waspacking up the instruments. Some of my friends came over and asked what waswrong. I said nothing but looked over at the girls who made fun of me all thetime, and immediately, all of my friends knew what was the matter. I don't knowif they told the teacher, but after that, the girls never said another bad wordabout me. During my high school years I had only one bully. She was a junior when itstarted. She called me Stinky. We shared the same history class the next yearand she commented again about my body odor. She was the only one laughing.Everyone around me told her off and she left. A couple of the girls joked thatI should hit her. I would never do that though. When the teacher walked in, oneof the girls, Amy, said she was going to tell, I didn't stop her. After shetold, the teacher took the bully out into the hallway. She was made to go downto ISS. Later, the bully had to apologize. I said nothing. She expected me toforgive her, I couldn't and I never will. Gladly, she graduated this year, so Idon't have to be bullied by her or anyone anymore. Should anyone who has been bullied reads this, don't stay silent. Throughout mybullying I stayed quiet, I didn't want to be a tattletale. I sometimes regretthat I kept quiet over the years. If you or someone you know is being bullied,you need to tell someone. Amy saved me when she told and I will be ever sogreatful for the rest of my life that she told on the bully. Since then, noonehas picked on me. I am not sure if anyone outside the history class knows aboutthe what the bully did, but noone has ever made fun of me again. If you knowsomeone who is being bullied, do what Amy did and tell. Don't worry about beingcalled a tattletale. You could save someone a lot of heartache. The following is Lizzybeth's 3rd child abuse story installment. It was posted directly to this page as a supplemental story. The following child abuse story from Lizzybeth depicts: emotional abuse in the form of witnessing her mother self-harm by cutting The child abuse effects on Lizzybeth: long-term emotional trauma When I was 14, my mom and I moved to Ossian. It's a quiet town that I stillhate three years later. When I was 15, we were living in a house and I had afew chores to do. I had to wash dishes and take out the trash. Sometimes Iwould forget to do the dishes and by the time I remembered, I had to go to bedbecause I had school, so I just reasoned I could do them the next day. Onceduring the summer, I had my best friend Marie over for a few days. It was lateand I needed sleep, so I left the dishes unwashed for the next day and went tobed. My mom's husband came home and noticed the dishes. He asked Marie where Iwas, and she said I was asleep. He slammed the door open and screamed at me.Then after that he left to go change out of his work clothes. I put my glasseson and went out to wash the dishes. He came out and was still angry about thedishes, but said nothing else to me and went down in the basement to watch t.v.as usual. Marie got up from the chair she was in and helped me wash the dishes.She kept saying it was going to be okay. I kept crying even as she was sayingthis. I knew in my heart the only time I was ever going to be okay was when Ifinally moved away. This next story I am going to tell still messes with my head. My mom,sister and I have lived with my grandma from the age of 8 until I was 14. [When] I was was 12 or 13 years old, my mom came home from work and was in an angry mood. Iwas on the couch watching t.v. when I heard her come in and slam the door. Iknew that when she gets in these kinds of moods that I should leave her alone,so I didn't dare move. She was in the kitchen for a long time, so I got up offthe couch to see if she was okay. I got couple feet away from couch and couldsee her standing by the sink, with a steak knife in her hand. She was cuttingthe part of your hand that is at the end of your thumb on the top side. Shenoticed me in the living room and looked over. When she did, I acted as if Ididn't see anything and laid back on the couch. She walked through the livingroom and upstairs to her room. She never looked at me or said anything to me. The next day I asked her what was wrong, she said grandma made her mad again. Inever asked her about the cut and she and I never talked about that day again. The following is Lizzybeth's 4th child abuse story installment. It was posted directly to this page as a supplemental story. The following child abuse story from Lizzybeth depicts: emotional abuse in the form of witnessing adults fighting and child neglect The child abuse effects on Lizzybeth: loneliness, feelings of isolation and rejection, abandonment from her mother First off, let me just say that although Ihave endured abuse most of my life, I have had some happy times. Like when Iwas four years old, I taught myself how to read. I was so happy that I couldread. And when I was six, my aunt taught me how to tie my shoes. I perfected itby learning how to double knot. Also when I was six, I learned how to ride abike, on my own. Most of the things I have learned over the years, were selftaught, as I said in my past story, noone was around much when I was growingup. One sunny afternoon, I was making myself lunch because my grandma was outshopping or something and I had to make it myself. I put a bowl of chickennoodle soup in the microwave and turned it on. After a minute, I heard yelling.My mom and sister were fighting over something. I still have no idea what thefight was over. They were screaming so much. I sunk down to the floor, coveredmy head and started to cry. After the fight, I got up and looked around thekitchen. Noone had even notice I was back by the microwave. The only person inthe room was my one year old nephew. My poor little nephew witnessed the wholething. Luckily, it had no effect over him. Another fight I had witnessed was between my mom and grandma. My mom came homeone day and told my gammy that she had just bought a car. Gammy started yellingthat she didn't need to waste money on a car. My mom yelled back saying sheneeded her own ride to work. They yelled back and forth. It came out of mymom's mouth that she and I had been planning to move out, and that made grandmaeven more upset. Before the fighting, I was in the kitchen playing pretendschool with my cousins and my nephews. During the fighting, I hid back by themicrowave and trash can that was by the basement door. The four kids migratedover to see me crying. My mom kept saying for me to go upstairs to my room. Sheknew I hated fighting, and just kept telling me to go, but I couldn't. I wasfrozen in fear. And I couldn't leave the kids downstairs. After the fight wasover, my mom went to work. Me and mom moved out a month later and things havegotten better between her and grandma, but nothing good has really happenedsince we moved. I had to switch schools and had to move in with her new stupidhusband. He yells at me when I do the slightest thing wrong. I have gonethrough great lengths to avoid him. I stay locked in my room until he goes towork. And I go to bed before he gets home.For years my mom has been telling me that it would be better for us if we movedout of my grandma's house. We moved out, but nothing is really better. I spendmost of my time alone. My mom rarely lets me out of the house because shealways thinks I will be kidnapped. I used to hate being alone, I have now cometo like it and prefer to stay alone. I make breakfast, lunch and dinner formyself, I clean up after myself and even though I have said I spend most of mytime alone and like it, there are some days where I really need help from mymom. There's noone to talk to except the cats. If someone should rob the houseand shoot me or stab me, I most likely will bleed to death. All I really needis to talk to someone and a hug every now and then. I feel so alone a lot ofthe time, and I sometimes even cry myself to sleep. I feel totally isolated,cut off from the world. I am just glad that I graduate in June of 2008, thatway I can finally move out and go back to my hometown. Thank you for all this site has done. I feel better now that I havetold someone about everything that has happened in my life. This should be mylast story. |
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