Child Abuse Story From John
by John
(Boston, Massachusetts, USA)
Broken Glass:
From the earliest remembrance I have of my childhood I was emotionally and physically abused. I was born to southern parents who believed in swift physical discipline so as a young boy I recall beatings with switches and belts that left me physically and emotionally scarred. In fact, the physical beatings were almost always accompanied by verbal shots at my self esteem. I was physically abused by my mother and my father, but the worst was probably the verbal and emotional abuse I took from my mother. I was told by her that, "you'll never have nothin', and you'll never be nothin'." Or, "you can't do nothin' right!". And lets not forget this one, "you destroy everything you put your hands on!". With amazing clarity I lived out every word that she spoke, and my life unfolded just exactly as she had predicted. Toward me my mother was cold, insensitive and aloof. She never hugged me, never kissed me, never displayed any show of love or affection toward me and as a result I'm not sure I know how to show love or receive it. Also, my father showed even less affection than she did toward me. This is how it was for me till the time I no longer lived with them at home. I can recall when I was in high school, being beaten by my father with his fists so severely that he split my face, and left me dazed and streaming with blood. On one occasion as a very young boy in grade school, my mother hit me with the buckle of a belt in the eye, such that my eye was swollen and closed. She never showed any signs of remorse, nor has she ever expressed regret for her actions. But back in the early seventies not much attention was paid to such things, not even in schools. Once, my dad got me out of bed around four or five in the morning in my pajamas and put me in his vehicle where he transported me to a remote area of a city park and he beat me until he was satisfied. On another occasion I was stomped and beaten with a broom handle. As a young boy I lived in constant fear of my parents who made it abundantly clear that nothing I ever did was pleasing to them. Everyday I lived with the realization that I would experience this terror at the hands of the people who claimed that this was for my good! These were church going people who claimed to love the Lord, yet didn't seem able to express that same love of Christ for me. I would beg God to kill them and rid my life of these terrible people. As a child I had no way of rationalizing what was happening to me, I just knew that I wanted it to stop. Around the age of twelve I turned to drugs as a way to self medicate and stop the pain that I was going through, but it only made my life spiral out of control. Now as a forty something adult, I still suffer the lingering affects of my past. My desire now is to be free!!
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