Child Abuse Story From Jozey

by Jozey
(Fairbanks, Alaska, USA)

My mom was having unprotected sex with my dad for 2 years. She was a drug dealer and my dad was always in and out of jail.

Finally, after those 2 years, she prayed to God to give her something so that she can be responsible, and it would help her change her life around. Then she became pregnant with me. My dad was in jail the day I was born. My mom's life changed because of my birth. She would go place to place trying to find somewhere to stay. My Grandma, her mom, didn't want to help her, she was always drunk and since she worked at a bar, she never was home for my mom. My Uncle, my mom's brother, babysat me a lot so that my mom could find ways to help us get through things. My Uncle has always been a second dad to me. I was almost taken away from my mom twice by child services. It's by God's grace that I wasn't.

When I was about a year and a half, my mom married one of her guy's friend's best friends, Michael. When my mom met him, he was so nice. Shortly after they got married, his true self came out. He would always drink, and he was on meth for the first couple years.

Since I grew up with him, he was my daddy. Now I still kept in contact with my real dad, although, he's been in and out of jail more times than I've had birthdays.

When I was 2 going on 3, I was running through the house and he had his cigarette down by his hands. Well me being short then, I ran straight into it. The doctor said that if it had been any closer to my pupil, I would have been blind in that eye. I have a little spot on my eye still. In that same year, my mom had my little sister, Kimber. He still yelled at me, and he started to smack me. I don't know when he started to hit me, except that I was really young.

When I was about 4 and Kimber was about 2, my mom had my other little sister, Brooke. Michael never hit them like he hit me. The earliest that I remember the most was when I was either 7 or 8. I had messed up somehow with the dishes. Kimber and Brooke were at the table eating. He cornered me into the wall next to the table and started to hit my stomach like it was a punching bag. About 10 minutes later, he dropped me and my sisters off at church for Missionette, where my mom was.

I never told my mom about the times that I got hit, but I think that she knew about them. The only person that I really told things to was my best friend Sarah. We've been best friends for about 13 years now. She has been there many times while he hit me. Once he tried to hit her, then her dad, Bob, came over and chewed him out. My mom would have taken us away from there, but she had nowhere to go and everyone told her that he was the only thing that she would ever get. What's really messed up is that Michael's parents are the pastors of the church that I grew up in. I grew up thinking of God in a messed up way. I no longer like the Assembly of God.

When I was 8 almost 9, we moved from California to Florida so that we could be missionaries. Now this didn't mean that he stopped. They actually kept going. And getting worse. I was always getting in trouble at school and at home. I was such a troublemaker. But my mom has always told me that I'm a nice kid. And I am. It's just that I seem mean because of all the hurt that I've been through. Michael wasn't only physically abusive, but verbally too. He used to tell me that I was a waste of time, that I was a brat, that I would never be good, and more.

After being in Florida for 3 years, we moved back to California. Michael was back at his old job. My mom became the youth pastor, and my sisters and I went back to school.

For 6th grade, I went to a Christian school called Immanuel. One day, I had forgotten to do my homework. My teacher, Mrs. B, got really mad at me and told me to grab my things. She took me by the arm and was going to take me to the next classroom to do it (my homework). While we were walking, she started to get madder at me. She had her nails done, and they were the pointy round ones. When she was yelling, she started digging her nails into my arms. I kept telling her that she was hurting me, and she kept digging them in deeper. When I finally got out of her hold, I stepped back. When she reached for me again, I stepped back again. Then when she reached for me again, I turned and started to run. When I looked behind me, she was coming after me. I yelled at her to leave me alone, and she stopped. My first thought was to run to the office. When I got there, they suspended me!!! Then they called my parents, and said that my dad was on his way. I got really scared then. When I saw him pull up, I saw how pissed he was. I almost wet my pants when we go in the car. All the way home he was yelling at me, telling me how much of a screw up I was. Then he slapped my face. I kept flinching and leaning closer to the door. When we got home, he told me to go to my room and that he would be in there later to deal with me. Then I heard him and my mom arguing. I was home schooled the next semester.

Then the mine where Michael worked closed down. He was out of a job for 6 months before he put his application on the internet. Then the mine in Alaska found it, and they moved us up here October 2003. Just 2 months before my 13th birthday.

Whenever Michael beat me, he would come in my room about 20 minutes later and say that he was sorry, and that he loved me. I believed him. But what I realized was that he never really hit my sisters. But they were always scared that if they messed up, he would hit them too.

One day, my mom was getting on my sisters case about something. In anger and frustration, she slammed her hand down on the counter. When she did this, I screamed at her to stop. When I realized that I had yelled at her, I started saying sorry and begged for her not to hurt me, to not kill me as I ran upstairs. I locked myself in the bathroom. Our doors were very thin. She was yelling at me to open the door, and I kept crying and saying I didn't want her to hurt me or kill me. She punched 1 hole and kicked 2 holes in the door. I finally unlocked it, and then ran to my room and hid in the corner. When my mom came in she was almost in tears. She was scared. My mom has never hurt me. When she finally calmed me down, she figured out that I had had a breakdown. When she moved my pillow for me to sit down, she saw that I had a paper filled with bible verses about fear. Even when I was little, I would yell, "In Jesus' name, leave my family alone" whenever my mom and Michael would fight.

In September 2005, when I was 14, my mom finally divorced Michael. I remember that when they told me and my sisters, I smiled. For about 6 months, I still went back and forth between his house and hers. When he wasn't mad at me, everything was fine. We had fun, laughed and everything.

One night, he got really mad me and hit me so hard that I thought he broke my nose. It was swollen for days. Then one Saturday, we had to clean the house. He told me to clean my room, then when I was done to do the laundry. When I was done, I folded the extra blankets. If there wasn't enough room in the hallway closet, we were supposed to put them in my sister's closet. Since she was cleaning her room, I put them in front of her door and told her that when she was done to get me and I'd put them away. Then I went downstairs and started working on the laundry. He went upstairs to check the room, then yelled at me to get my lazy ass up there. He told me that I didn't clean under my bed, and then he pulled everything out of my drawers, the closet and from under the bed. He told me to clean it all up, then I had to help my sister clean her room. He called me a lazy bastard. After that day, I told my mom that I wanted to stop going to his house.

My mom got re-married in December 2005, and I got a new dad. We butt heads every now and then, but he's better than any dad that I've ever had.

Now Michael calls Kimber fat and yells at her mostly. He only yells at Brooke sometimes. Every time they come back over here and I see them crying because of him, I get more strength and courage, and less fear, to talk to him. One day I will tell him that what he did to me was wrong and he hurt me. And I will tell him that I have forgiven him, and that because of him, I have become who I am today, an amazing young lady. One day, I will be able to do that.

My mom has stood by me through everything and loves me to death. I have never stopped loving her, and unlike most 17-year olds, or most teens, I love my mom and I'm so proud to say it. I would be lost without her. I am 17, but my mom, and many others, tell me that I am more mature than most adults. I still have a hard time with relationships and guys. But I have two amazing best friends, besides Sarah, and both of them are guys.

To any one who is reading this, if you are in an abusive situation, get out. It can ruin your life. God has helped me through my problems. I know that He can help you through yours.

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