Child Abuse Story From Melanie1
by Melanie
I can't remember my childhood, well anything before 11. My grandfather died of cancer when I was 12, after that everything fell apart. My parents lost their house so we had to move into an apartment across town. Things were okay at first, I guess you could say. We were normal, and "happy". The abuse started when I was 13, I'd get yelled at for silly things, like forgetting to turn the light off when I left the bathroom or leaving my boots in the livingroom instead of on the shoe rack. I don't know why my dad was always so angry, he once told me how he was abused as a child...but all that made me think was "wouldn't he know what it's like? why would he want us to feel that way?". Maybe it's his way of revenge. He'd hit my brother and I, over anything that made him mad. If my brother mouthed off to him, he'd hit him in the face... more than once. He once left bad bruises. It's happened all too many times to recall every single time and why it happened. I can remember a couple... like when I went to the park and he told me not to, I came home that night and he took off his belt and hit me in the legs four or five times. I cried, not because it hurt physically, but because I was angry. I was angry at him for hurting me, I was angry at myself for making him mad, and most of all I was angry at my mother for letting him do it while she just sat and watched. I also remember when I was doing my hair for school and I didn't put the oil away that was left in the bathroom for some reason. My dad told me to put it away and I said I was busy and would do it in a second. I didn't notice it made him mad until he came into the bathroom and grabbed me by my hair, flung me around, stood me in front of him and screamed in my face. I don't remember what he was screaming, probably the same things he says every time it happens. "You think you're big? You think you're grown? I'll show you what it's like to be grown." Because being able to take hits from a 40 year old, 250 lb man was a way to become grown. My mother was afraid of him, I don't blame her for what happened to me but I also don't excuse her for not doing anything about it. I wanted her to help me, I'd ask for her to divorce him and we could just leave... she didn't have the money and she had no family to go to besides us. So I was stuck. I lived there up until I was 18. I graduated high school at 17, moved out a month after I turned 18. I haven't talked to my father or my mother since and I'm now 23 with my own little boy to raise. I look at him and all the silly little mistakes that he makes... and I could never imagine hurting him. I think about it sometimes, and what my life would be like if it had never happened. If we had been a "normal" family... I guess I'll never know what it's like to have parents that love you, but I know that my little boy will and that's what makes it better.  Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.
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