Child Abuse Story From Melodia

by Melodia
(USA)

One Long Bad Dream: 
I was raped before or around age three. I still can't remember the details but I've always known about sex and what it felt like, and the feeling of falling into myself to escape.

My father was religious and believed in the old saying, "spare the rod, spoil the child" and "children should be seen and not heard". He was a perfectionist and would punch out mirrors and windows when he saw his reflection and didn't think he looked good enough. We were all afraid of him, but he believed that if we feared him we respected him so it's what he wanted.

He would often get mad and throw things too. We had to sit in church for long 3-4 hour sermons without moving (legs crossed—if they weren't, he would say that I looked like I was asking for it, or like a whore—and hands on lap) or we were taken to the bathroom and belted. He couldn't agree with any church on how they saw the bible and so we moved a lot.

We also had a billion pets and he would beat and throw them across rooms.

My parents got divorced when I was 12. I've had three stepdads since then. The first told us every day that we were "water" and meant nothing to him. He would get us out of bed in the middle of the night to scream at us for hours for a sock being on the floor. My older brother got so upset during these "family meetings" that he would smack himself hard in the face. I remember zoning out mostly. He made us work with him doing drywalling and clean the house. He especially targeted me and would throw stuff at me, threaten and chase me, and beat/throw animals in front of me because he knew that I liked them.

Second stepdad was a crazy religious type (again) that wouldn't let us do anything secular and called us devil-children.

Third stepdad would get drunk and we would end up sleeping in parking lots on the nights he was really crazy.

Around this time I also was attacked by my boss at work who pushed me against a brick wall when the one other person working was out and started slobbering all over my neck. The other person came back so he had to stop. I quit that job and my mom told me the next day (as I was still depressed) "get over it, it's not like he finished the job or anything". This is the way she always was...if I told her something, she would tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself, and that I wasn't strong enough...so I never talked to her. There's a lot more but this is getting too long.

What I want to say is that for others out there experiencing abuse, there are many of us out here and we understand and need to stick together to help stop this.

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