Child Abuse Story From Wendy
by Wendy
(Saskatchewan, Canada)
It took me a long time to realize that not everyone lived the way I did. Dad seemed to get angry a lot. Anything ticked him off. It was like walking on glass when you crossed his path. It was like a chance game. Go fast enough with skill and solemn-ness and you may get away without getting yelled at for not doing good at school or get a smack across the ass because he thought it was funny. I told him to stop. But that just edged him on. He just kept doing it - so I just came to accept it. My uncle did it too, so it must have been normal.
I wouldn't get to eat dinner or supper because I didn't help make perogies or help can food. It depended how mad he'd get whether it'd be for a day or a few. At 5'7", I would constantly either gain or lose weight: between 115 to 135. At the cost of also being called fat and a stupid-bitch-who-only-ate didn't help either. The doctor told me I needed to gain weight, but I couldn't get passed 135. I used food to punish myself in any way possible. I wouldn't eat when I thought I did something wrong, or I wouldn't eat when I was depressed, but then I would overeat. My weight and eating habits are still a constant struggle.
I never told anyone of the beatings I got or the neglect that came of my father and my mother. I thought it was how everyone was raised. Then, at 16, I moved out of my home without consent and began to start a new life for myself. I am finishing up my grade 12, and plan to become a hairdresser. Everyday is a struggle, but I am slowly relearning how to deal with the pain and the daily problems people face everyday that I don't know how to handle right.
My dad has disowned me. But my mom still seeks contact, even though I don't. My 14-year old sister still lives with them.
Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are strictly prohibited.