Child Abuse Story From
Peter

Peter is from Sausalito, California, USA

The following child abuse story from Peter depicts: physical abuse and emotional abuse

The child abuse effects on Peter: physical injuries that required medical attention; the belief that beatings were a part of life; lashing out at people; denial, anger and hostility; mental anguish; feelings of betrayal at his father for doing nothing when Peter was being beaten; Peter refers to his mother by her first name

The purpose of this letter is simply for me to speak the truth about my life. I am doing this as a cathartic experience and I really do not expect any major consequence of this action.

I have been punched slapped and beaten from the time I was 5 until the time I was physically able to defend myself. Most people do not believe this was true. The person who beat me denies it to this day; consequently, I will only speak of two occasions where there were actual witnesses to this abuse. In other words, people who actually witnessed these acts of violence or at least the aftermath i.e. bruises cuts, abrasions etc.

The first event took place when I was only 5 or 6 years old. I was visiting my aunt in Marblehead Mass. I remember being hit viciously several times and then finally I was slapped so hard that I fell over a couch and lay sprawled out on the floor. I was only semi-conscious at the time but for the first time in my life someone came to my aide. It was my Aunt Sharron. She said, "Joanne that is enough!" I do not know or really even care if my aunt remembers this trauma, but for me, it was a watershed experience because, for the first time in my life, I realized that what Joanne was doing to me was wrong. Someone else actually stood up to her. I thought beatings were a part of life. Like a shower. I thank her to this day for making me realize that Joanne's actions were NOT normal behavior.

The second incident took place when I was 10 years old and in the 5th grade. Both my parents were habitual cocaine abusers. I can remember seeing actual 3-foot piles of white powder on our dining room table. This abuse caused my parents to lose much of their fortune. I had been beaten on several occasions and had had enough. At some point this 10-year-old child, alone in the house, had the courage to take what I guess would amount to 500.00 dollars of cocaine and flush it down the toilet. Knowing I would receive a beating, I told Joanne proudly what I had done and as a result I received one of the worst incidents of physical abuse I ever had to endure. I needed medical attention after this severe trauma, but my father, who knew exactly what happened (but did not care or more precisely did not have the moral courage to stand up to my mother), did nothing. My mother was still in a rage and only wanted to repeat the beating again to justify the loss of a substantial amount of cocaine. Fortunately for me my Uncle John was staying with us at the time. He was at least 6 years younger than my mother, (his sister) but he threatened her with his voice and calmed her down. After dressing my wounds to my face, back and chest, he healed me on the inside by just telling me he understood what I did and forgave me. My uncle died of cystic fibrosis 10 years later but I will always love him and honestly think about him and miss him every day.

I only speak of these incidents because there were actually people there at the time to confirm that they happened. For a long time I denied to myself that they happened and it ate me up inside. There were many more incidents of physical abuse but mental abuse was a daily factor in my life. I was reminded constantly how I ruined my mother's life because she became pregnant with me and had to give up her modeling career and lifestyle.

As a teacher and educator, it blows my mind that people would actually hit and abuse children. How could you attack an innocent child? Even a schoolyard bully at least picks on someone, somewhat their size. Regardless of my relationship to this person, good people do not beat up people that cannot defend themselves. This is a criminal action. My father knew exactly what was going on, yet he never stuck up for me. In my mind he is and always has been a coward. Even if I thought my neighbour's son across the street were being abused, or one of my students, I would do everything in my power to stop this abuse. Yet for 15 years he did nothing. To this day he is still co-dependant and cowed by Joanne.

Well I think I have said enough. This is the truth and it was very hard to admit that these things ever occurred, but now that I have it off my chest I do feel a lot better. The people that committed these crimes should not feel better, they should feel really bad. They don't though. In fact Joanne denies that these incidents ever occurred and I almost agreed with her until these feeling were eating me up inside. They came out in different ways and I was lashing out at people I loved for reasons I did not understand. I think only someone who has experienced prolonged abuse can actually testify to its brutal nature. However, I thank God every day for those two people who did stick up for me in my life. Even though they did not really understand, they showed me that what was going on was morally corrupt. It was their courage that began my road to independence and it is this essay that will hopefully start the beginning of truth and healing.