Child Abuse Story From Arrie

by Arrie
(Location Undisclosed)

The Secret and Shame of Spanking: 
I grew up in a Christian home. Overall, I think that I was a well-behaved young girl. Mostly, my mother was a nice woman. However, when she finally becomes upset, she seems to go into a rage and she doesn't remember what exactly she says or does. She claims that she has no rage because she's Christian and Christians are supposed to give their problems to God. Yet, the rage is there. I've seen it.

Unfortunately, after the events, I feel as if I've been dreaming because she seems so serene, she's nice to people in public, and if any one brings up the events, she says that they are lying and that they are going to Hell. She says that God wouldn't stand by and let her abuse me without punishing her so I must be lying.

Yet, I can't get the events out of my head. I have never seen a psychologist or visited anyone who implants memories so I know that these things happened. Also, when I am in doubt, I look at the scar on my arm which validates one of the events. Mother claims to have no memory of when or how I received the scar. It's a very small scar, but the scars within my heart are much bigger. I wasn't a very bad girl, but when Mom would go into a rage over some minor "bad" thing that I had done, I received punishments that were greater than the deed.

Mostly, I received spankings and verbal abuse. These two things may not seem like abuse to most people, but when I'm crying in the middle of the night or having flashbacks, I know that something was wrong with the way in which my discipline was handled.

The first spanking that I recall occurred when I was about three years old. My sister and I were talking and laughing while Mother was trying to watch the news. She told us to stop, but something funny happened and we began to laugh again. She told my sister to give me a few swats on my behind and then told me to give her a few swats. These didn't really hurt, but the principle of it just didn't seem right at the time.

The next time that I remember occurred when I was four years old. I went to a class with my mother and she told me that I could draw with markers, but I was to be careful with them. I accidentally marked on the desk, my hand, and eventually rubbed it on my face. When she said "look at you", I started crying because I knew what was to come. Afterward, we went to a supermarket and she said that I was going to get a "whupping" for "acting up". The only thing that I was guilty of was not being careful with the markers and crying. Was this really a misbehavior for a four-year-old?

When we arrived home, I received a bare bottom spanking with her hand. Her hand didn't hurt that badly, but she continued to hit over and over again until it did. This is where the confusing part comes in. If I held in the tears and didn't cry during the spanking, she would go longer and harder until I cry. However, she would say that crying is "acting up" and she would continue until I would find a way to stop crying by holding my breath or something. Since I had asthma, I would then have a panic attack and would be told to stop gasping for air ("sniffling") or else I would receive another spanking. The only way to achieve this was by holding my breath until the attack suddenly stopped or holding my breath until I passed out. If I passed out, I was actually more fortunate because when I awakened everything would be normal again and Mother would be her usually serene self. Unfortunately, I only actually passed out about three times.

Another day, about a few weeks afterward, my mother gave me a black and white paper cartoon and said that she didn't want it so I could color it. Because she said that she didn't want it, I thought that I could do anything with it. As a four-year-old with an overactive imagination, I took the cartoon and tore it to try to make a puzzle. (I wasn't allowed to use scissors). I planned to color the pieces and try to put it back together. Unfortunate for me, Mother walked back into the room and caught me in the middle of my project. What she saw was scattered pieces of paper on the floor. She didn't ask me any questions, she simply yelled "Don't you ever tear up anything when I give it to you." I was yanked upon her lap and given another bare bottom spanking complete with all of the "aftermath".

I was once spanked because my sister told a lie on me. Strangely, Mother doesn't remember any of these events while I'm stuck having flashbacks and having to live with myself. My sister received spankings too, but not as many. The ones that she received were usually for more serious offenses such as lying. I received them for silly reasons which Mother deemed as "serious". Often, my sister was more creative and found ways to lie out of her spankings. I wasn't much of a liar, but I was called a liar many times.

When I was older, it seemed that Mother would look for reasons to spank me. Once, I told my mother that there was a piano piece that my teacher wouldn't let me play but I really liked it. Mother said that I should ask the teacher about it again. On the day that I went to ask about it, I noticed that another student in class made the remark "I wish I could play it". I felt sorry for her and I backed off so that she could ask the teacher for a copy instead of me (because only one student is allowed to study a piece at a time). When I told this to Mother, she said "I told YOU to ask for it." I said, "But she wanted it so I decided not to play it; there's another piece that I could play." Mother then said that I was "sassy" and pushed me into a sofa and raised her fist toward my face. She dropped her fist and left the room.

Mother has no recollection of this. She says that I'm a liar.

Several events such as this have happened in my life. I am not allowed to talk about them without being called a liar. My sister witnessed some of these events but she refuses to agree on either side. She pretends not to have seen any of it and is a very shallow, secretive person. My sister is nice, but very mysterious.

Many of you will say that these things do not constitute abuse. Maybe you are right. However, I know that something is wrong. I cannot tell my story in person or else I will be ostracized from the family. I walk around with a fake smile every day. No one knows how I hurt or why I hurt. I am very sensitive. I cry at the least unpleasant sensation.

If I even attempt to bring up these issues, Mother says that I am a liar who is influenced by the Devil. She screams loudly at me. Sometimes I crack and I scream back. I know that it's wrong, but can you blame me?

I can never tell or else I won't belong.

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