Child Abuse Story of Healing and Recovery From Name Undisclosed
by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)
Finally Learning To Cope:
It started (at least what I remember) at 3 years old, being beaten with a belt by my mother, leaving red welts. I used to hide in the closet or under the bed afterward. My brother escaped this abuse because he was a "boy" and therefore could do no wrong in my mother's eyes. From that, it progressed to hitting me with her hands, a pot or pan, a chair--pretty much anything she happened to have handy. My hair was pulled, sometimes tufts of it pulled out. Along with this came the name calling. Sometimes vulgar names, and at early ages I didn't even know what some of the names meant.
Where was my father?
Oh, he was always nice to me but conveniently at work, in another room, or outside while this was going on. Sometimes sitting in the very next room where he could hear. He once told my husband that he knew that she had a temper and he just let her do what she wanted to avoid confrontation, but no mention of even knowing what she was doing to me. She used to tell me she didn't even care if other people saw bruises on me that I just made her so mad. I was never sure what I even did that was so bad, especially at 3, 4 or 5. Sometimes it might have been just accidentally spilling a glass of milk or forgetting to pick up a toy.
Throughout my childhood I prayed to God a lot to make her stop. I spent a lot of time alone in my room. As I got older I started to backtalk her, and put my arms up in defense, but that only caused her to hit harder and threaten more.
I was rarely allowed to have friends over or go to friends' houses. Maybe she was afraid I would say something. Of course I never told anyone, I was too embarrassed. I know now there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but back then that was what I felt.
In public and at school I always faked that I was happy and I developed a pretty good sense of humor. I guess that's how a lot of abused people cope.
At home we were also never allowed to play loudly, run around, yell loudly in play, and we were definitely chastised if we cried over anything. I learned to keep a lot of my feelings in. I felt pretty alone.
Luckily, as an adult I met my husband and I finally felt comfortable and trusting enough to tell him about my past. He encouraged me to finally cry and let it out. He listens, he hugs me, he gives me the affection and feeling of safety that I missed out on. I'm very thankful.
It's been years and I know I'm still in the process of healing. Different things will cause me to have flashbacks of what I went through, but I'm learning to concentrate and focus on what a good life I have now. I'm nice to people, sometimes too nice I think, as in being a little bit of a pushover. I think that might be because I'm afraid of making people mad. But I'd rather be too nice than let out anger at others and mistreat them.
I pray every day. I hope someone reading this will know that while it may not be easy, there is hope for a normal, happy life...I also hope that if someone is being abused they will tell someone and get help, especially someone outside of the family who will believe them--clergy, a physician, a teacher, a counselor...I'll continue to pray for everyone who has experienced this.
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