Child Abuse Story From Mere

by Mere
(New Zealand)

In the 60s & 70s: 
I have visted this sight from time to time & having read some of the horrific stories, I have come to realise having read others experiences, it is only fair that I share my story too.
Around the early 1960s at the age of 5-6 years old I witnessed many beatings my Dad subjected my mother to. My mother also abused us as children around that time. She not only beat us badly but subjected us to alot of emotional & psychological abuse. I remember my mother would orchestrate the hidings she planned for us & I remember feeling the pain well before she applied the hidings. My mother would run around closing windows to prevent sounds or noise from the hidings she would give us. I speak for the memories I remember clearly when my mother would cover my head with a quilt, push my face into the bed to minimise the sounds of crying. when she finished the beating she would contain herself, reopen the windows & warn me that I was not to speak a word of the beating I just received. As time progressed, the hidings only got worse. Having survived one hiding the next would only be worse. I remember one hiding in particular where my mother hit me around the shoulder & head area with a crowbar. I could not protect my head any longer as my arms were weakened from the blows to my shoulders & arms from amount of times she hit me with this crowbar. When I fell to the floor, I remember my mother telling me to get up, go to the wash room & wash the blood from my head. As I washed myself I remember feeling my whole upper body in pain & hoping the bleeding would stop. At the time I also remember a strong hatred in my gut developing for my mother. This was not the first injury to my head inflicted by my mother, but one which stands out clearly. The reason it staands out clear from the rest is that while my mother was beating me, I was telling her that I loved her as a plea for her to stop. I remember the following day pulling out dry blood from the crown of my head. My mother would keep us home from school, until fully recovered from bruising or signs of the physical hidings we received. I would have been around 8 years old at the time. I still ask myself the question now how did I survive all those hidings I got from the age of 5-6 right up until I ran away from home at the age of 16. My mother put us all in very dangerous situations. My sister & I were subjected to sexual abuse as well at around the age when I was 8 years old. I remember my mother comotosed after a bout of heavy drinking & not being aware that one or both her daughters were being molested in the very room we all slept. We were staying with an Aunt at the time. We had no where else to go. I remember one guy in particular who would come into the room & lay down on the floor alongside either my sister & I. He would weasle his way closer to where I slept. Before I knew it he would slip his hands under the bedding & start feeling around my legs & tummy area. He would eventually slip his hands in the leg of my underwear & feel me. I remember pretending that I was in a deep sleep because I did not want him to know that I was aware of what was going on. That was my way of dealing with it, & I think it was also my way of dealing with the embarassment of the ordeal. I have tried so much to put my memories to sleep but it is difficult. When my mother died, I only attended the burial. There was nothing for me to grieve, other than say goodbye. I remember other people present at her burial. People who knew of the abuse we endured from our mother. I dont forget that they made no attempt to stop the abuse. I have forgiven some, but I still have alot of work to cover.

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