Child Abuse Story From Anna2

by Anna
(Parsippany, New Jersey, USA)

Neglected by my Father: 
My story is not that bad at all, compared to the rest. I just want to get this off of my chest.

I think everything started when my parents divorced when I was only five years old. Then, my father married a woman named Terry and my mother started dating a few guys. However, my life went well, until two years later when my older brother turned nine.

Then, I had to see my father every other weekend. When we, my brother, sister, and I, would go there, we used to have a lot of fun. Then my brother, Brandon, would fight with my dad. He would always be in tears. I never understood why they fought over stupid stuff.

I think the reason I turned against my father was because I finally understood my brother and his view on his arguments with my dad. I can distinctly remember a few arguments where I agreed with my brother instead of my father.
Then I reached about nine or ten years old. I started fighting with my dad, over one major thing-food.

The biggest ongoing argument my dad and I get into is over food. You see, Dad and Terry would have to work all day Saturday, leaving five kids home alone all day without someone to cook, besides me. However, that didn't matter because Dad NEVER HAD ANY FOOD! Well he had food but it was either off limits or stale. Everything was stale-his chips, milk, cooked rice from a couple months ago; which I ate and then got sick. I hated it! Dad or Terry would come home and then we would beg for them to cook. They'd always say "Didn't you eat?" We'd repeat over and over again that there wasn't anything to eat, but they never bought any more food! Oh yeah, he would also cook us a lot less than we needed to fill us up. For dinner, they would cook one pound of spaghetti for five kids plus two adults. We'd each get only one scoop of spaghetti. After we'd go home on Sunday night, we would beg and cry if someone didn't cook. So, after a few weeks of constantly crying, my mom would always have dinner prepared when we would finally come home.

Eventually, I would bring my own food. I brought 3 packages of Mac n cheese, butter, and a package of broccoli-yes I am the only kid in the world who actually eats vegetables. The food was gone by Saturday morning. I talked with my brother and sister, and cried when they told me that they never have any food. I tried to give them so much-because they are with Dad and Terry all the time. I remember a few times when incidents like this occurred.

One time, Dad got some lunchmeat. He got 2 lbs of cheese, 1 lb of salami, baloney, turkey, and ham. All of us were there for lunch. I got my turkey sandwich. Then, we ran out of turkey and ham so I got a baloney and salami sandwich. I put 2 slices of each on 2 slices of bread, and then I bit in. It was so good! Dad, of course, demanded, "How many slices do you have on that sandwich?" I swallow and then told him, "Two."

He got so mad! "Only put 1 slice of each!" he screamed.

My defenses went up. "Why?" I asked. "Nobody likes salami OR baloney!"

"Well I do!" He answered, taking my sandwich and removing two pieces of meat. He muttered the word "pig" under his breath. I glared at him and then walked away.

Dad grabbed me by my shoulders, wanting to know where my brother was. I didn't know, so I didn't answer. I walked upstairs and sat down on my bed. Then, I walked over to the hallway closet and pulled the door open. My brother was sitting down on the ground with tears streaming down his face, listening to his MP3 player. I didn't say anything because I started to cry. He looked so sad! He looked as though he was minutes away from execution. My heart felt as though it was ripped from its chest! I cleared my throat and asked him what was wrong.

"I'm hungry," he said through a shaking voice. His eyes were so sad.

I shook my head, anger flaring up in me. How could my dad do this? How? I shut the door and then marched downstairs. I stood right in front of Dad and glared. I guess he thought I was still mad at him from before so he apologized. I knew that he meant none of it, though. I gritted my teeth and then began to walk away. I stopped and told him I knew where my brother was. "And I hope you're happy for what you did!" I said to him.

Dad demanded that I tell him where my brother was. I said nothing. However, I followed Dad until he found my brother. He laughed and then talked to him. I walked away, sickened that my father would laugh while my brother suffers. I hated him more than anything.

My father finally decided to seek some counseling. I was so excited! I mean, that could finally set my dad straight! The first time we went to a Catholic church on the base, oh yeah my dad's in the Coast Guard. We pulled up, went inside, and then met the priest/counselor. He was nice, and he decided to talk to Terry and Dad first. 10, 15, 20, 30 minutes went by before we started complaining about our hunger. We didn't eat because of course, he had no food! So then, my two brothers raided their refrigerator and pulled out a container of fresh watermelon. I was against this; until they started eating. I ate some too, savoring its delicious flavor. Then they pulled out some orange soda and started drinking. I didn't because I didn't want to get in trouble, and I hate soda.

Another hour went by before Dad, Terry and the priest came back out. We were so happy that we got to talk to a counselor. However, Dad said that he couldn't help us. I got so irritated. We ask to go out to eat but, of course, he said no.

A few weeks went by. I got into a really big fight with my father. I do not recall what it was about, however, I do remember marching upstairs, my father not liking the noise level of my steps, and then coming to chase me into my room. He cornered me, and pushed me into the window sill, bruising my back. He grabbed my shirt and then raised his fist up. Right then and there, I knew he would punch me. I could see it in his eyes. Terry ran in and pushed him off of me. I ran away from my room, torn and angry at the same time. I could hear yelling, but that didn't bother me. Then, Terry came down, alone, and told me to get my stuff. She rounded up all of the kids, hers included, and rushed us to the car. Terry was pulling out as Dad came rushing out. He said he was sorry, and that he'd never hit me, but I knew that he'd have done it if Terry had not saved me.

Terry dropped me off at my brother and sister's party-go figure. Nobody was there yet, except for my mother and aunt. I was quiet as they hugged everyone, oblivious to the fact that I was almost hit by my father. I think it was my aunt who came over and asked what was wrong. I broke down, telling them everything. I cried and cried and begged for them not to send me back. Thankfully, I didn't go back for about a month and a half.

When I did go back, Dad took us to counseling. Well, only my two brothers and me. I hated that lady. Dad lied to her, making her blame ME and my brothers for all of the trouble. She never helped, so we stopped going. Things with my dad slowly began settling down. However, we fight over the littlest things. A book, church, ANYTHING will set us off. Surprisingly, I still cry after each time.

Eventually, everything seemed to be forgotten. However, I never truly got over my childhood experience. I think it has traumatized me. I am an extreme people-pleaser. I do what people say, no matter what. I never trust men, especially teachers. If I ever get a detention with a male teacher, I will not go unless a girl is there. Yes it sounds stupid but I don't trust them. Thankfully, I am the honor student who has never gotten in trouble. I have extreme trust issues and fear issues that I cannot overcome. It seems that Dad has built these walls in our relationship that cannot be broken. I also have a void in my life. I use people as crutches. I crave that part of me to be filled. I have been using many people that I see every day, but they don't fill the emptiness that I feel. I don't know if I ever will be able to fully trust again. However, with God being at my side, I feel a lot better.

Thank you for listening to my extremely long story. I just needed to get my story out.

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