by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)
It was not very long time ago,
I’m not in that city there anymore,
I flew away to this lovely place
To pry myself off that horrid daze.
I was, I don’t know in 1st grade
He told me we’d get some candy and costs were, me to fade.
7 years and breathing,
I thought I was dreaming;
Am I liar, I’d never know,
My one desire is to go!
Trust-oh how much I had word,
I hurt him if gets anywhere near my sister.
Or maybe not
Am still afraid,
Why am I holding on
To it every day.
Am I a liar?
To smile every day.
Was I a coward?
When I used to cut each day.
He makes my blood boil every time
And paralyze me every time he smiles
He was my uncle,
Am not from here,
I flew far away to forget every 365 days.
I don't remember my childhood,
Except his touch;
I don't remember my eyes
Were they bleeding too?
Am I a loser?
When I get nightmares to wake up crying.
Have I gone hopeless?
To believe that love and trust are fake insistence?
I’m my own teacher and counselor,
You’d be scorned upon if they learn you go to a doctor
This is my story
This me
I’ve a million emotions within
That I fail to seek.
These are my nightmares,
These were my dreams,
I want to be a scientist
To discover more in space.
I’m in college,
I still draw away from touch.
Still waiting for karma
To catch up on me.
This is my fate,
That I so want to change
I fail to speak up
I can’t express ‘me’
Can you feel my agony?
Can you understand me?
I know there is a million other,
But I still fail to speak.
Thank you
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by Mary-Theresa
(Northern Ireland)
As a child i was happy from what i remember, mummy loved me, she looked after me and she treated me to toys, i was always looked after. my mum is my hero, she has always put me and my sister before everything and i appreciate that so much. However my mum was married to a monster (my dad) he would beat her, rape her and verbally abuse her. When i was 2 she left him in hopes of raising me and my sister alone but he wouldn't settle, he got social workers involved, the stress of my dad mentally torturing my mum got too much, he got access to us at weekends and my mum begged the social services not to allow this but they disregarded her, they said he wouldn't do to us what he did to her. they were wrong.
one weekend at my dads my sister was out with friends for a while my dad decided to give me a "wash" this is when he proceeded to sexually abuse me, he placed his fingers inside me and stole my innocence, my sister caught him in this act and she and i told my mum and this was brought to court but they never believed us children so he was never punished. after 12 years of social workers and care homes due to my mums being forced to hospital due to stress of him and being mentally run down, we were finally free from him, the monster that ruined or lives, or so we thought. just last boxing day he moved in to the house in front of mine and brought my nightmares to life again.I am still stranded in my nightmare and do not know how to escape, i never will, but at least i have the knowledge that my mum risked everything for me and my sister, i love her very much and someday we will have justice. now that i am 18 i wont let him destroy me, or so i tell myself, i am scared the children of my area and myself, i don't know how to fix this and it is just going to ruin our lives once again.
Mary-Theresa
Northern Ireland
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by Samantha B
(Tennessee, USA)
Raped:
I went to my uncles house and my uncle asked me if i would like to go four wheeler riding so i said yes.We went down this big long path and then he stopped.He told me to pull down yous pants and i said no so then he hit me and told me that he will kill all of my famly if i didnt.Then what happend he told me to get on the four wheeler and take my panties of and i did.Then the worst thing happened.I didnt like it and i was telling him to stop and he woundnt then i hit him and he shoved me off the four wheeler.After all that happened he gave me a rag and told me to wipe my girl part and i did.We finally went back to his house and i was sad.Latter at night me and my family were leaving and i told my aunt on him.The crazey man went to jail for 15 months.But i still think what happened to me that day.
Sam B
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by Kim T
(Louisiana, USA)
The child survives
the monster,
the pump house,
the closet,
the bathtub,
the screaming,
the fear, the fear, the fear.
Be still.
Be very quiet…disappear.
I don’t have to hurt.
I can watch from afar.
The darkness is my peace.
The moon is my refuge.
The cold floor against my face soothes me.
From behind the locked door, I grow strong.
I will survive.
I will be free.
I will not carry
the monster,
the resentment,
the bitterness,
the hostility,
the rage,
the fear, the fear, the fear.
My child is safe now deep inside of me.
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by Name Undisclosedl
(Location Undisclosed)
My dad killed my mom when I was little. The police never even knew she was dead because she didn't ever leave the house. Sometimes when I was little my dad would leave for a long time. I knew how to cook in the microwave so I didn't ever really need him. When he was home was the bad part. If I ever said the wrong thing he would get really angry and beat me and wouldn't let me eat for a couple days. It was really easy to say the wrong thing. Sometimes he would touch me, but that only really happened at night. Whenever I was at school, I would feel like I would faint because I was so tired and hungry but I never told the teacher because if the nurse saw me she would send me to the police or the hospital and I've never been to jail or a hospital. A week ago I ran away. I broke into my friend's house and got him to give me some clothes because it's really cold and I was scared I would freeze until I died. I'm still scared because it's hard to sleep at night or walk around or anything. My dad could be looking for me, or the police. I could get kidnapped or hurt. There isn't anywhere to go, though. I've never been to a hospital, not even for a checkup. I know I'm bleeding and I think my hand is broken. I need help.
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by Maddy
(Ohio, USA)
Hard to write that I was abused but ive been encouraged a bit to write it so here it is. When i was 4 or 5 my dad used 2 sit me on his lap a lot and wen my mum would leave the room he would run his hands near my bits an i culd feel his thing underneath. if my mom left the house he would try take his thing out and do his thing while i was still sat there. about wen i was 7 my mom separated from my dad an i started having to be alone with my dad for weeks at a time and that year he started having me try to have anal sex, I guess u could say i didnt have any confidance growing up being a malnourished freckly white brunete in a mostly black school and picked on and ignored at school pretty early an watching my parents split up only made my self esteem worse i never really felt i had a right to speak up and i felt i had no hope of pursuading my dad that i didnt want to do it. I remember feeling scared the first few times because i could feel his big thing pushing on it but he couldnt put it in and eveytime he tried it hurt. a few weeks later we were doing it and most of that is a blur that i blocked out the next few years of having to do it. the only thing that stuck in my mind to this day is looking at his thing after he had finished and the shame and embarasment i felt knowing id just accidently gone to the toilet during it i still feel dirty thinking about it. ive got tons of guilt still because when i hit 11 i started masturbating during it and my dad said that it was that reason that i made him start doing it and that i was the one who asked for it and wanted it but hes wrong i still remember how it started and he thinks i have no memory or something and i feel like no one would hear my side of it.
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by Megan
(Location Undisclosed)
I'm glad I found this site cause I never understood what had happened and wasn't sure it was abuse. Still not exactly sure since I wasn't raped or touched inappropriately.
From the time I was a little girl (I'm 16 now) until he moved out of my parents house, my brother used to come into my room at night. He would sit on my bed and tell me to hold my arms over my head. Then he would tickle me. He called it our tickle game and told me it was a secret. When I was real little it was just that my brother came in and tickled me before I went to sleep and that was it. But when i got older maybe 7 I noticed he was rubbing himself while he was tickling me. Ok so he never tickled me in any private spots. He mostly tickled my armpits and sometimes on my sides and my feet. He would say "does it tickle?" and I would laugh but he kept doing it and told me I had to take it. But the whole time (like I said I remembered it probably when I was about 7) he was rubbing himself. He never wanted me to do it TO him.
When I was a little older he still would do it but one time he took it out of his pajamas and just started doing it for real on himself. It would happen a lot not every night but maybe 4 times a night? He came in and made me stretch and take it while he tickled me and mastubate until he...? (Which was gross) You know. Then he would go to bed.
He moved out when I was 11. I remember one night before he moved out he was tickling my armpit with one hand and doing himself with the other hand and I was laughing like crazy and holding onto the pillows cause he didn't like when I put my arms down. He said "maybe some day you can tickle me" and he looked down at ....you know ... himself and smiled. It was VERY creepy. I was glad he moved and never did it again. I never forgot about it but I never thought it was abuse. I see him on holidays like Christmas but he never says anything about it. Like it never happened.
I just don't know if it is abuse if he's not really touching me in a bad way but just himself.
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by Emily
(California, USA)
My problem is that i liked hearing dirty jokes and laughing about sex when I was growing up. I was the object of my father's dirty jokes and I enjoyed telling them to my friends when I was in Girl Scouts. My friend left the cabin after I spent a whole night telling dirty jokes.
It's like I didn't know any better. I came from a family where there was lots of beating and yelling. I yelled ALL the time - at school when I was a monitor on the bus, when I was asked to do chores. I just yelled all the time.
I was asked to perform oral sex on my older brother once in front of my other brother. Then my older brother asked me to "Come here" and he rubbed me with himself. I asked him to do it again to me and he said "NO!" and he never touched me again. Then after that, I started to act out sexually with my little girl friends, spending the night acting like "James Bond" girls...
I read Playboy, all kinds of books about sex from DH Lawrence to Lady Chatterly's lovers. Later I found romance novels with intense descriptions of sex.
It just never quit, the drive to seek out sex. I kissed lots of boys in high school, then my father told me I "had a big p***y" when I was in high school, so my therapist told me to move out of my house when I was eighteen. He also seduced me verbally in one session when he told me "men have penises, women have vaginas. Everyone is different". I felt "alive" - in my vagina, it just opened up inside me when he said all that - and he asked me what I felt and I said I felt "alive" and he said "to feel alive you have to be different". He was a psychoanalytic psychotherapist.
I just never felt real about sex. It just happened to me, from the feet up to the top of my head. I feel cheated about becoming a Mother. I was just a toy about sex.
Thanks for letting me tell you this. I am sixty years old and still feel like a teenager about sex. I have been married for 25 years.
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by Denis J
(Connecticut, USA)
My childhood was a constant stressful situation. What I could not understand at the time was that I was not at fault for the abuse I endured each and every day. An example. If I said up I was wrong, but if I said down I was wrong. I was constantly trying to figure out what the right answer was for any particular situation so that I would not be verbally assaulted. There was no right answer. I can recall trying to figure out what the right answer was for my favorite color. It did not matter because the abuse had nothing to do with me. However, this kind of crazyness produces a constant stressful environment. My mother, as far as I can tell, didn't give a damn about me. She always pretended that she did. I don't think she has the ability to care about anyone. She is probably the most dishonest person I have ever encountered.
She would present herself to people as a concerned parent, but savagely attack her kids in private. I remember her attacking my little brother because he spilled a glass of milk. He was about 8. You would think he killed jesus the way she attacked him. As always when she was finished acting like an a**hole, everyone was supposed to pretend that nothing happened. I wondered how anyone could be that angry over a glass of milk. She wasn't angry at that, it was an excuse for her to attack. There was always an excuse to attack and verbally abuse her children.
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by Sakura M
(Location Undisclosed)
My name means Cherry Blossom in Japanese. I clearly don't know how I survived or how I lived through a terrible life since I was neglected and left alone. I was treated like an unwanted rodent. I was treated like Genie Wiley, Dani Lierow, and Oxana Malaya (all feral children). I was a feral child, also I had to learn it was a tough road to be in a normal world but I managed I could brush my teeth, brush my hair, eat with a fork and spoon, use the bathroom, talk etc. My daughter, who is adopted, and I we share the same thing but she was not a feral child like i was. So I'll share my story then I will share my daughter's.
My mother was estranged from everybody, she hardly appeared at family gatherings and kept quiet. No one knew that she was pregnant at the time with my sisters then myself. My sisters were born with learning disabilities also they were a bit delayed in speech and other things, it seemed that my mom was preoccupied with things that she liked while I was left alone in my room all thin even frail, I didn't had any clothing on only a diaper, in my room was a very dark place since the house was a rental one. I had one mattress that was dirty, a pile of diapers that was starting to get big, the house smelled but I hardly noticed the smell at all. Since we had animals in the house it was really disgusting since no one thought of cleaning the house, in only my room was a window I usually peaked out of it while people came by they stopped looked at me they were even shocked of seeing someone that they never seen before.
That's when finally someone called child services, they came over but was shocked to see what kind of condition I was living in, I was about 6 or 9 when they got me out; since it was disgusting, the police came got me out of the house with my adult sisters watching me leave without a tear in their eye since I was like an unwanted unborn baby, my mom she was frantic when the police took me out of the house she was screaming; 'DON'T TAKE MY BABY! PLEASE DON'T TAKE HIM I CAN CHANGE! I CAN CLEAN UP THE HOUSE, I CAN TAKE CARE OF MY BABY!' but her ways sucked as a policeman told her, she told them my name and there I left the house.
I was taken to children's hospital where I would be taken care of the bug bites, lice in my hair and rashes, I was malnourished and anemic. I was in pediatric intensive care unit they tried to feed me, but I couldn't chew or swallow solid food. So they put me on an IV and let me drink from a bottle, nor did I do anything like normal children did. Once the nurses had cleaned me up they were shocked to see that I had snowy hair, pale skin and sapphire eyes. In that case they called me an albino but a different type. I was staying there about 2 days before I was taken to foster care, they tried to make me talk but I didn't had the ability to speak with my own mouth since no one taught me. I kept away from other children since I never liked being touched.
When my Aunt and Uncle had seen on a board about me since I had my picture taken they immediately went to the foster home so they could adopt me. Once I stayed at my uncle and aunt's house there I finally got to meet my Cousin, a super nice guy he was. I warmed up to him quickly along with my aunt and uncle, so they adopted me. My mother was on criminal charges of child abuse, she was not allowed to see me anymore, she was under house arrest and had to do community service. So the judged had forced her to give up her parental rights for me.
Living with my aunt and uncle was ok but it was a complete disaster sort of speak; They gave me a teddy bear; I tore off its hands. They took me to the beach; I just screamed and wouldn't put my feet in the sand. Back at my new home, I tore from room to room, my swim diaper spewing streams across the carpet.
I couldn't peel the wrapper from a chocolate egg, so I ate the shiny paper too. I couldn't sit still to watch TV or look at a book. I couldn't hold a crayon. When they tried to brush my teeth or comb my hair, I kicked and thrashed. I wouldn't lie in a bed, wouldn't go to sleep, just rolled on my back, side to side, for hours.
My aunt had always told me; 'It was understandable for me since i had never been in a new home before.'
When my uncle tried to get me to bed, I just railed at him and bit my own hands.
At the time they learned what worked and what didn't. So they had to give anti-psychotic drugs to mitigate my temper tantrums and help me sleep. When they weaned me off the medication, I stopped drooling and started holding up my head. I even allowed my aunt to brush my teeth and allow her to comb my hair.
But it took them a while for me to get some processes going, but I managed to do them all and by myself. I remember what my first word was when I finally spoke, I was around 9 that time. The first word I said was was my cousin's name. My aunt and uncle were really happy. I could finally speak. I didn't throw a temper tantrum not ever again.
As for my daughter story, I was around 19 at the time when I adopted her. Her name means starlight.
Her Biological mother had her at the age of 15, her real father never wanted to become a parent so he up and abandoned them both. Leaving her mother with her but it was horrible, her mother decided to be a prostitute at 19 leaving her home all alone. Once she comes back she would slap her and call her stupid.
Her mother has been arrested a couple of times, when they learned about the daughter they decided to take her away from her mother. She has been in foster home, to foster home, to foster home her mother wanted to see her at times with the people who adopted her but never came. It was like, she never cared about her at all. Since that's what she was a mother that never cared for the beautiful girl.
So when she came to stay at my home with my uncle and aunt, she grew attached to me almost like she understood about my past. So she stayed with us when her mother wanted to see her once again, she never came to see her again. She was a cipher, only thinking about herself but she did think of her daughter, I do believe she was a combo of both caring/not caring. Once I learned from the head of the foster care committee told me that she was arrested for drug charges I knew that I needed to adopt her. I asked if the mother was going to give up her parental rights, he told me that she told him yes she was going to give up being a parent to her and in I quote;
'She's just a burden on my shoulders that I have to come home to every day to give food. I want to be free of that kid and just do what I want.'
She gave up her parental rights and I got custody of her now, she is just like me; White snowy hair, Pale skin and pink eyes.
We are living happily together as a family. Even reflecting on our past, I'd say that we were better off without our true mothers.
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by Steve
(Location Undisclosed)
My dad died in the Korean war, so I lived alone with my mom. We didn't have much money, so we were pretty dependent on her father for groceries and heating oil and stuff. He always complained about how much it cost him to keep us fed and how ungrateful we were.
When I was 10 or so he started spanking me for my poor attitude, lack of respect, for anything. There was nothing I could do to keep him from getting angry.
The spankings got more and more mixed with his touching my body. I don't remember when, but I learned that I could distract him from hitting by performing for him sexually. I guess I traded sexual humiliation for the pain of being beaten. I pretended I wanted his finger inside me. I masturbated in front of him and sometimes performed a sex act on him.
I told my mom about some of it, but she thought I was lying. She once told him that I told her he touched me -- I could never have told her the worst of it -- and he gave me the worst whipping I'd ever had. Front and back. And after that was done, I still had to do the other stuff.
I moved away when I was 15. It was hard being on my own. I had somebody's drivers license (they didn't have pictures then) but not everyone believed it. I couldn't keep a regular job. I drank too much.
I didn't see my mom again for 12 years. It was hard to leave her, but I really hated what my grandfather did to me. When I saw him again, he was old and sick. I didn't tell him that I thought he was a jerk. I didn't even imagine confronting him about what he did. I was too ashamed. I'm still a little ashamed about it. My wife doesn't even know.
I never spanked my kids.
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by Brisa
(Texas, USA)
From the time I could remember mother hated me.... She pulled my hair till the scalp popped...... She left countless hand marks on my tiny face.... Which she so sneakily put ice on.... I missed so much school..... She would beat me with belt buckles.... Shoes..... Hangers.... Her fists all before I was even 6..... I was choked unconscious so many times.... Once for being up on Christmas Eve....Called horrible names...... Black eyes and bruises.... Cut lips.... She would even break her own fingers beating me so hard....
.. Made to lie to the world that I was a clumsy stupid kid..... She took my boys from me because of my bipolar disorder...... New victims???? The boys know to tell on her...... I didn't......I remember begging god at 5yo to just kill me...... She hates me so much....... Still...... She denys most of it...... Blames me...... I was a child...... When I get my boys back I will never be like her.... I promise..... I swear...... I stopped it at 14and never looked back....... Mother has to answer to a higher power..... I forgave her....... Thank you.....
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by Betty J
(Hawaii, USA)
This is a reflection of what life was like looking back through the eyes of my childhood. Surviving my childhood was'nt easy, though in my mind it was what I thought to be routine, it was my normal. My world did not look the same as everyone else's, at least my perception being raped as a child constantly once a week for 5 years. I am broken and miserable ,a shell of a human being. Being raped made me into something indescribable. There was nothing I could do to escape it,being raped defined me as a person, shaped the human being I became. I despise the person I am. I feel like a nonhuman, like an animal that woke up one day in a body trying to live among a world I did not understand, I could not connect with. I had to cage my thought feeling and pain deep within myself. I was not allowed to cry or feel sad or I was beaten and locked in the attic. I would sit in a fetal position for endless hours after each rape in the corner digesting the pain. I felt like the lowest rock I could crawl under. I kept asking myself what had I done to deserve this. Those words sit in my mind trapped forever, this is what happens to bad little girls, suck it up and get over it. I am forever trapped in a contimated body, I will never be clean. At 13 i got pregnant, soon as i had the baby they took it away.adopted it out. i was not allowed to ask or talk about the baby, was told by many how could you do this to your parents, how could they do this to me? The shame sits is my mind day and night, telling myself your a bad person no one will ever love you. You are not worthy of anything good in life, the image I see of myself has never changed. I ran so far away from home and I kept running, the horror in my mind of the memory of growing up in that dysfunctional family made me so broken that I only exist in a shell within the walls of my apartment, I want to set this free so I can learn to know what living is really like. To belong and accepted as a human being and not an object.
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by Charlene N
(Michigan, USA )
Fighting the Secret:
I am 19 years old. My father passed away when I was three years old. My brother, mom, and I moved across country to try and move on with our lives. After joining school I began a fundraiser and knocked on a door that changed my life...My mom's ex boyfriend. Weeks flew by and they started dating. He instantly became overly controlling. He wouldn't let my mom call me to check in and to see how I was doing. I was only five years old, staying home alone. When my mom was asleep or at work, he would come into my room and start molesting me. He would start off as "tickling" me. While he pressed my face deeper and deeper into my pillow so I couldn't breathe. It got worse. He started touching my breasts and began going lower and lower. One night, I went to the bathroom and met a cold knife blade on my throat. He whispered in my ear that if I told anyone he would hurt people I care about. I listened to him. I didn't tell anyone. For years, I only told people the partial truth; that I was molested...This is where it gets hard for me to talk about. I wasn't only molested, I was also raped. It happened when I was five. I just revealed the truth a couple months ago..for 14 years I lied to everyone I loved. I only told them I was molested. In 7th grade, I told my counselor about the molestation, not the raping. The "man" passed a lie detector test and all charges were dropped. Here I am today, I'm a full time student focusing on bettering my life. I'm not gonna lie, I still struggle once in awhile with this traumatic event. However, I will never let it consume me. I will overcome this and move forward with my life. I will no longer live in fear. I WILL and AM going to get better. My goal and dream now is to help anyone who has gone through the same or similar situation as me. Someone who just wants to talk and vent about what happened, or someone who needs encouragement to speak up and tell the police about what went on or what is happening right now. If I can change one person's life for the better, all the trauma I went through will be 100 percent worth it. I know I'm a young adult who has a lot of life ahead of her, but I promise you; I may not be able to change the entire world, but I can make a difference in someone's life.
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by Avril
(Texas, USA)
The abuse started just after I was born. I was sexually, physically, and emotionally abused until I was 19. I was abused by my parents, my aunt and uncle and my grandparents. When my parents fought and my mom would leave, my dad would force me to have sex with him. During the summers my parents would send me to my grandparents’ house and my grandfather would force me to crawl over to him and perform oral sex on him daily.
They would also send me to my uncles' house and sometimes they received gifts from him so I could go. When we would get to his house he would force me into his bedroom and rape me. If I said no or cried he would beat me mercilessly. I was never allowed to make any noise or struggle or fight him or tell him no without being beaten or hurt worse. He tied me up most times and hurt me so bad. He raped me over and over. When he was finished he would force me to take baths or showers and he would watch me. Then he would drag me out into the living room or in his bedroom and he would force me to strip and he would beat me with his belt and belt buckle, or whatever was handy, then he would drag me into a closet and tie me up and leave me in there for hours. While I was with him he would sell me to other men for money and beer, sometimes he would host BBQ's and I would be his friends' entertainment. He would receive beer and other things so they could have the evenings with me. I was told that if I didn't please them the way I did him I would be punished. I was gang-raped over and over during those nights. He brought my aunt in and she started abusing me. He taught her how to hurt me and enjoy it. They knew how to hurt me without leaving very many bruises.
When I would go home my dad would rape me and then my mom started in on me. She would touch me and rape me and then blame me for making her do those things. She would call me names and slap me. Then she would act like nothing ever happened. She took me to the doctors several times for pelvic pain, etc., and when they said they needed to examine me my mom would refuse and then we would leave the doctors.
No one ever helped me. If I gave my opinion or expressed myself in any way I would get slapped or my parents would pull my pants down and whip me with a belt or a 1 inch piece of oak. I was always threatened with pain or death if I ever told anyone about the abuse. I was always told that what happens in the family stays in the family. There are some things that to this day I have not been able to share or express with anyone.
I reported the abuse in December of 2009. I was just told recently that they are dropping the case because it involves too many people and it is just too messy and that it is not a winnable case. I used self-harm as a coping mechanism and have just recently stopped. I still live in fear because he is out there and now knows where I work and the restraining order I have against him ends soon. I have no closure with my past and now I have a little sister that is 6 who is now in the same situation I was in. The law is stating they can't help her unless she speaks to them herself but she is too scared. I did my best to help her and it wasn't enough. I never used drugs or alcohol because I saw what it did to my family. My uncle is an alcoholic and my mother was addicted to pain medication and my dad worked most of the time and when he was home he would abuse me.
I have no contact with most of my birth family at this point in my life. I would always pray that God would take me home and remove me from this world. But He had other plans for me. I have since started going to a church where I am learning what real love is and growing closer to my Savior. I believe that God saved me for a greater purpose then what I can see now. I have found hope and love. I want to share my story and tell others that there is hope. I always use to think that I was alone but God has shown me that He has always been there and He has never left me. I have been seeing a counselor for two and a half years and I am on the journey to healing. If you have been abused you are not alone. There is always hope. I know what it is like to have my voice silenced and life threatened. I am finding my voice and I pray that someday I can be a voice for others who have never been able to have a voice.
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by Cindy
(Arizona, USA)
All my adult life I remember feeling like a yo yo. Not knowing why. I was empty inside, alone, and always afraid. I recall my sister telling me she had visited our biological father, who lived in another state. She gave me his phone number, so I thought what the heck. I called him. The phone rang three times. I suddenly had such fear and chills run down my spine. When he answered it all came rushing back. I hung up the phone ran into my room and covered up my head and cried. Memories filled my head, bad ones, one no child should ever have. The nightmares started, I couldn't sleep without a night light on in every room in the house. Sometimes I'd leave lights on in other rooms because I was so afraid of the boogieman. Yes the boogieman was the father I didn't want to remember. My sister visited him only because she was an infant when we had to leave. She didn't know him like I did. On her second visit she realized what he was and is. I began remembering our life with him, only the day the police took him away in handcuffs, the ambulance that came and took my half dead oldest sister away to the hospital. You see he was left to babysit us kids, while my grandparents took my mother grocery shopping. While they were gone we had to sit on the floor like little soldiers in a row, watching tv. I recall him taking my oldest sister who was eight at the time, by the hand and leading her upstairs. Next thing we heard was her screaming, and then silence. I walked slowly towards the staircase and began climbing them, I was five years old at the time. As I reached the top and looked towards the right of the stair case I saw my father naked, and on top of my sister. She wasn't moving, yet her eyes were open. He must have heard me when I went to turn and run down the stairs. He looked at me and said, you're next. As I tried to run he grabbed my hair and pulled me back up the stairs. He threw me on my bed and tore off my pants and panties. Next thing I knew he was putting this big thing from his body into my pee pee. I screamed in pain for him to stop. The only thing that saved me was my grandparents and mother pulling into the driveway, before he could insert it all the way. He looked down at me and said if you tell I will come back tonight and finish this and then kill you all. I believed him, from the look in his eyes and thinking my older sister was dead. I ran into my closet and hid. Next thing I knew my mother was upstairs in her room screaming. Then the ambulance and police came and took my sister and father away. I never told a soul what he did to me until I was 24 and it was my mother I told and she wouldn't speak to me for years after that. She said I was a liar and was trying to hurt her. What a b***h. After things settled down that day my mother was court-ordered to divorce him. He had almost killed my sister by raping her and damaging her insides. She would only be able to have one child later on. My mother was left with nine kids, no job or skills to support us. She found a preacher who gave her help with food, clothes and money. She was put on public aid and food stamps to help out. She never stopped blaming my sister for the divorce. She would strip her naked and beat her, kick her, and strangle her daily, until she ran away. She was placed in foster care through a couple from the church. My mother acted like the victim, she made my sister look like a troubled teen. My mother would starve some of us while feeding others. It just depended on who she felt like hurting that day. I remember going to the nurse feeling sick, I hadn't eaten anything for days, the nurse ask what I had for breakfast, and I named every food I could think of at the time. She knew I wasn't telling the truth, so she got the principal involved. So I repeated my story, and he said i'll give you a ride home. The first thing out of my mothers mouth, what's she done this time. As if I'd been in trouble before. He told her of a food program at the Salvation Army church, it was across from our school. They provided breakfast, and lunch for needy families, it was free. Finally after threats from the school we were allowed to take part in the program. We were never provided dental care or even a tooth brush until I was 13 yrs old. Even though she had a medical/dental card she refused to use it unless one of us was near death. I suppose she would have to explain all the cuts, bruises, and cigarette burns hidden under our clothes to the doctors. I recall one of the happier days, us kids were playing hide n seek. Our house was big enough we had lots of hiding places, mostly from mother. I decided I would make it easy for my oldest brother to find me on his turn, he was my favorite, cuz mother picked on him daily. So when he came into the room I was hiding in the closet, I started to jump out, when my mother burst through the door opening, oh sh*t I mumbled, what now. She grabbed him by the throat, slammed him on the bed, and started choking him. i suppose she realized him turning blue, so she decided to stop the choking and started slugging him in the face until he stopped moving. He eventually built up a tolerance to all the torture. He'd stand there and his only response he gave her was I love you mommy. Not sure when or if she stopped abusing him. After the school incident I started. on a warm summer day it started to rain. It was so refreshing. It was a long time since I'd had a bath. Plus GOD my only friend, made it rain. So I decided to dance in it, praising GOD for the rain. Next thing I knew, I'm stepping on a bee, so I hop to the porch, crawl up the step, call mother to help me. What! She yells through the screen. A bee stung me, it burns. Bam opens the door rolling me down the steps. Well too f@&@:@& bad, you pull it out or it stays in. After crying forever, it finally came out. Next thing I wake up for school the next morning, and step out of bed. Guess what, my foot is 3 xs the normal size, and I can't stand on it. Well by the time she took me to the doctor, I had a red streak going up my leg ,up to my knee cap. My fever was at 104. And I remember sweating like I was still dancing in the rain. I remember crying because now I would miss my best friends birthday sleep over. She said now now, if you can fit your fat foot in your little shoe, you can go. Ok I wore a shoe size three times smaller then my foot was. So I tried to cram as much as I could into the shoe, hmm, it feels like it fits. Mother says ok now walk, nope can't walk no go. So I stayed home From that experience i went on to watch my mothers every move, facial expression and breathing patterns. The way she sounded right before an outburst. Then it became easier to stay out of her way. The less she saw you, the less able,she was to attack you. Well about 3 years after bee sting, she meets a man at a singles dance. He's a widower, has 4 kids. They start having outings with us, all us kids get along wonderfully. Bam next thing you know their getting married. What a blessing we all thought. A dad, new sisters and brothers. But the abuse never stopped. She just had more victims to unleash her demons onto. The first year was the best, but at same time one never let's their guard down with her. Then the first fight breaks out. It's his kids this, his kids that. So next thing ya knows shes beating them and not so much us. Then she rips all of them of anything to do with their mother. No one is allowed to speak her name. No photos or jewelry, nothing stays.So my step dad placed it in storage unknown to mother, later he would give it to his kids. Then she started hitting them, grounding them, pushing them down the stairs that led to the basement. Finally my youngest step brother grabbed her arm as she swung it at him, and said, hit me one more time, and I'll knock your teeth down your throat. She left him alone physically, but continued to abuse him emotionally, but he beat her at that. There are so many things I cannot remember about my childhood, I'm sure because it is blocked. My mother is truly a mommy dearest indeed. I finally stopped sleeping with the lights on when I turned 27. Then they came back on three years ago. Since, I've had no contact with most my siblings, or mother. I've decided I'm worth keeping and so I threw her out of my life. You cannot love the unlovable. You cannot get love from them, I was abused, sadly, but I never grew up nor,has any of my siblings, step or biological, to become the animal that raised us. Why, I ask myself why a lot. Why did my step father not stand up for his children, even after he witnessed the abuse? This I cannot answer for him. Sometimes I think he may have and still is her victim. Thank you for listening. I'm doing well, I broke free and that's what counts.
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by C and R
(Missouri, USA)
My brother and I were victims of child neglect. He has severe non-communicative autism. I want to tell this story because I want anyone who went through this to know that what happened to them counts too, just as much as someone who went through some traumatic thing you hear about more often. I have never met anyone who had the same story, but I know you are out there. From as early as I can remember, my mother gave up on caring for us, because she did not want a disabled child. The home was so filthy there would be inches of vomit, urine, feces and other things covering every surface. This happened because he had intestinal problems and couldn’t keep food down. A lot of autistic children develop intestinal issues and do fecal smearing, that really is common. As a result there was constant infestation of flies and larvae. They were so thick I would choke on them and they would crawl in my ears. It is hard to describe that every corner, every surface, every object, food, was tainted with this. Look around you and picture every single surface and object with a fine, smelly, smattering of it. He was violent and screamed constantly from his pain. He would have violent episodes where he would beat me into the floor and I would wake up with my hair in dried excrement. We were dirty; all the doors were locked at all times with padlocks on the refrigerator and pantry. We were starving. I was not supposed to be upstairs, in order to avoid being targeted. I had no friends, no one was allowed over. Most days my mother was unfindable, when we saw her she would say how much she hated us and wanted to die. My brother was rejected by every school he ever went to. At school I would go weeks without speaking. My father was frequently gone on business. My brother left when I was in high school after being on a waiting list for almost 6 years. Since then I started to get better, I had repressed memories. I lacked social skills and have hearing loss. I have trouble with balance and coordination. I have anxiety and shut down with some people. I have an eating disorder. Now that I am an adult, it took a lot of work and self awareness, but my life is good. I have a college degree, a job, I am safe. However, not a day or night goes by that I don't think of this. I wish someone would tell me that the feelings of guilt, difference, distrust, and anxiety, are normal. I have no idea how long it will last, but I want you to know that If that happened to you and you feel the same, that someone else reacted the same way and that your feelings are justified. I am not hopeless, and neither are you.
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by Katie
(Colorado, USA)
I was abused by my mom and sometimes her boyfriends up until about two years ago (I was 13) when I told someone what was going on. It's hard for me to write about it, but I think it's something I need to do to help me deal with it and the anonymous setting helps. The abuse started before I can remember. In fact, one of my very first memories is being locked in a small dark space and feeling a spider (I think it was a spider) crawl over me. I think the space was a locking cabinet in that house, if future memories are any indication. My mom was the constant and her boyfriends came and went. Mom would call me a b***h or a s**t or any of her giant vocabulary of insulting names and blame me for everything and call me stupid for every mistake (yeah, maybe they were stupid mistakes but it still hurt) and basically make me realize how worthless I was. I know I disobeyed her a lot and I probably ruined her life, but it really sucks to feel that your own mom doesn't love you. She would throw things like hardcover books at me and push me over and burn me with cigarettes or heated up paperclips and hit me with a belt (the metal end or the softer end depending on her mood) and pull my hair and send me to my room for up to four or five days with no food and minimal water and do other stuff too. Once I could no longer squeeze in a cabinet, if I was bad enough she would lock me in a closet. I missed school a lot because I was "sick." When teachers started asking about the bruises, which really started after I was about eight or nine, we would move away. My mom's boyfriends were rarely nice. If they were, she wouldn't hit me or lock me in closets or anything around them. I liked that. If they weren't nice, they joined her in punishing me. Some of them did worse at night. It was "our secret" and if I told they promised all sorts of terrible things would happen to me or my mom or anyone else I cared about. One of them said that he wouldn't have to do this if I wasn't such a s**t and that it hurt him more than it hurt me. Maybe he was right that I deserved it, but my case worker and the therapist I had to talk to (listen to?) once and a couple other people said that none of it was my fault. I feel like he was right about it being my fault, but I know he was wrong, if that makes sense. I don't know whether to believe my head or my heart. I always focus a lot on school when I go. It is my escape. I especially love English class. I can hide behind good grades because what could possibly be wrong with someone who has straight As? They must have life figured out, right? It was a way to protect my mom. Is it weird that I love her? I guess what I've said so far makes her seem like a monster, but there were some good times like when she taught me how to ride a bike or (and thinking back this probably wasn't the best thing for her to do but she wasn't yelling or hitting me so I liked it) "play" drugs with me when I was little by letting me use one of those fake syringes from a play doctor set to pretend to inject drugs while she actually did or when we would make dinner or cookies or something together. So even though there were plenty of bad times there were good times too and I love her because of them. A few days after I turned 13 I told a teacher what was happening with my mom when she asked about some bruises instead of making up a story about how they appeared. I wish I hadn't told the truth. Now I'm in foster care and I hate it. I hate moving when they decide they don't like me. I hate that some of the families are as bad as or worse than my mom and her boyfriends. At least with my mom I knew what she would do and that she would do it in certain situations. With every new family (they keep moving me because I guess nobody wants me, though I sometimes misbehave so I don't really blame them)I have to figure out if they're going to hurt me for being bad or just yell at me or ground me or whatever. I never know beforehand and I never know what they will do or that they will do it in certain situations. I would rather be back with my mom. Speaking of my mom, they terminated her parental rights because she wasn't making any effort to follow that plan they gave her. So I'm available for adoption. Great. Because so many people want to adopt a 15 year old girl. I don't know what to do after I turn 18. My grades dropped a lot after I got put in foster care. It's not that I don't know the stuff. I do. It's just that I suddenly have issues with doing homework and focusing on tests. I try to get stuff done. I really do. I don't know why I'm even having issues with this all of a sudden. So I don't know what college would even take me with the grades I have now. Even though it's just sophomore year, these grades (I have mostly Ds and a C in English) will affect my GPA throughout high school. I wish none of this had happened. If I hadn't reported my mom and her boyfriend I would still have all As. I could have gotten into a good college and gotten scholarships and seen my mom if I wanted to. Now I have almost no chance of getting into a good college unless I magically become famous or something, even if I did I couldn't get scholarships , and my mom has made it clear she never wants to see "that stupid brat who betrayed her" ever again. I've told only one person about this (my ex-closest friend) and all she could say is that she didn't believe me and even if I was telling the truth people had been treated a lot worse than me (which I know is true and I'm thankful it wasn't worse but she didn't have to say it like she did). She told everyone she knew what I had said. One boy at that school who I didn't even know said that maybe I just misbehaved too much. That I deserved it. That girl is not my friend anymore. Sorry that went a little past the child abuse part and that it got so long. I just had to write that all out and try to make some sense of it.
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by Maggie D
(Maryland, USA)
raped 2 15 by my father grandfather dentist uncles he was a union prez insane my body is deformed heartbroken angel saved my life at 2 should have died i have mussels growing around my lungs know its due to the trauma brother with kids feel he is insane too tried to warn wife i am the crazy one so sad alone.
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by Kris
(Location Undisclosed)
I wrote a long time ago about the abuse I went through. I found out recently that it did happen well some of it anyway. My sister confirmed some of my memories were true.... My mom was making me doubt what happened and I recently had the guts to ask my sister if it was true....She said yes they were pretty horrible to you and when you went places they did hurl things at your back she said. I wish My mother understood what an impact it had but she sugarcoats it by saying my memories were magnified by my PTSD....Hmmmm wonder if my mom thought it was all sunshine and peaches.... Most of my childhood was good though, so I don't know why I am so screwed up in the head.
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by Stephen H
(Utah, USA)
My Story Of Healing Not Yet Complete:
i am not at all sure of how this goes so im just going to let it go...
i am a victim of physical and mental abuse and damage that has caused me many problems and issues from 2 male figures that were in my life from 4 years old to 9 years old i have been a victim of abuse.it is my birthday in 2 days i am turning 20 years old and i have tried and tried tostart healing and bringing back what he took.. he didnt take just one thing from me and i did not know or realize that because i had to sit and watch this male abuse my mom and my brother for so long and i have always felt that it was my fault even though i cant tell you how or why i feel that way but ever since the damage he caused to my emotional side of my brain i have been that kid who is always fighting and being blamed because i saw a bully.hitting a kid .. yea i had absolutely no clue. who these two kids were. and i understand boys and fighting but what i dont understand.is why i crave to.beat the s**t out of anybody who is.fighting the other for whatever reason they.decided on and when the kid asked him to stop the kid said shut up and hit him again and without hessitation i ran up to the kid who wasnt stoping and i stoped him without saying a word and he.yelled at the kid on the ground saying he is a p**s for having backup and bringing people to jump in and i looked at the kid on the ground and asked him if he had any idea clue.as to who i was and why i stoped this kid and the other still yelling i walked up to him and with much hatred and anger i told this boy.that he was never going to break this kid down nomatter how many times you can hit him hes stronger because he is the one who asked you to stop and simply wanted to be a kid who doesnt get picked on and he puts up with this because he doesnt want to tell because he knows you would get suspended and one day you decided to pick on him and hit him because he wont hit you back... you railed into this kid for days.continueally.hiting him every day and i watch .. i amnot much older than you.less than 4 years ago i was the kid getting hit and now i see what damage you are causing and how many scars you are leaving on this boy that no ammount of stitches or anything exept the one thing that will be the hardest to fix.. those invisible scars that dont heal for many many years and i see what damage your causing and i wont let a punk like you make the decision of if this kid will be able to handle emotional. stress and the moment you see the damage you do and lives that people like you ruin.. you were angry with him because this boy right here has enough balls to say.that he wont hit you and his only reason is because he doesnt want to get you in trouble for somthing that can be stoped with words and he did. and you didnt so i stoped it because now you will think twice before hitting a kid because he wont fight you .. i. sat quet trying to find a way for himto understand and all i could say was....him hitting you may not hurt your body but he is leaving scars that will bring you pain sorrow madness and every emotion possible and you will have the same challenges i have if you allow this .. i know your small but i promise you will get big and see that tiny little kid getting hurt because his heart is too kind and you are going to stop that kid from the emotional pain and that will. stop.these kids from causing damage that only you can fix because its in the emotional
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by April S
(Indiana, USA)
At 8mo old I was adopted. Never knew I was adopted till I was 17. During those 17yrs I was severely physically, verbally, emotionally, & mentally abused by my adopted parents. My earliest memory goes back to when I was 3. I had a red cookie monster piano. The numbers were stickers & were peeling off. I remember her picking it up & slamming it against my head. This abuse would continue daily till I was 17. It consisted of numerous things. Hitting me, choking me, calling me names, cutting my hair while I wld be eating my cereal & making me eat it, wasn't allowed to get out of bed in the mornings unless she gave me permission, making me take naps till I was 17, wasn't allowed to watch very much TV. Went 2yrs straight 1 time, wasn't allowed to pick out my own clothes, laid blame on me when her dad passed even though I was only 7, blamed me she got breast cancer, I wasn't even allowed to wash my hair by myself, she wld come in & wash it for me with freezing cold waterwould curl my hair & burn my scalp many times, wld beat me with a thick handled board with holes in it & when she cldnt find that she wld use a belt leaving welps all over me. The schools knew & when they tried to intervene she pulled me out of public school & put me in a pvt school which she gave a lot of $ to keep it quiet. Went back to a public h.s. as a freshman & there I slowly began to realize that what was happening to me wasn't of the norm. Little by little I wld fight back. Ran away from home numerous times. During my senior yr it was getting to be much harder to deal with. He threw me across the top of a car in front of 300 people after a h.s. football game, which not 1 person intervened, & slammed me into a wall. In Feb I was told that I was adopted & taken to meet my biological mother. I was floored. Cldnt believe it. Tried to wrap my mind around it & the fact that ev1 knew but me. just like ev1 in our church & community knew I was being abused.I knew that this was something I had to deal with by myself when after reaching out to various people for help & didn't get it. I was taught to never talk back or disrespect my "parents" so what happened next surprised even me. April 3rd I prayed that God wld get me out of that situation & environment or let me die. April 4th was no different than any other morning except for 1 thing. She came into my room & as usual grabbed me by the throat & slamming me against the wall. Suddenly the thought crossed my mind that was "April, she's not even ur mother & u don't have to take this anymore." Out of nowhere I reared my arm back & punched her right in the face with my 1st ever right hook. I was shocked & cldnt believe I had done that. "I" actually felt bad because I was raised to never do something like that EVER. I left the house & went to school & spent the day in the guidance counselors office. The asst. pastor from our church came to school to talk with me. I finally went bk home & she started in on me again. She told me to go outside & wait till he came home. It was raining & so cold that when he got home my arms were purple. He came up to the porch & she came flying out the door screaming at me. What he told me next wld be the last thing he wld ever say to me & that was "She's my wife. You're not my daughter. If u don't like it get the f**k out." With only the clothes I had on I did just that & never looked bk. My friends went to their closets to give me clothes & shoes. I bounced around to various friends houses for the next cpl months. Somehow I managed to graduate h.s. & eventually left that town to join the Army. She also abused the foster kids that were in her care. I know it's not possible but I wish I cld hold her accountable for her actions. I cld fill a courtroom twice over with witnesses that cld attest to what happened. No one helped me because they were scared of her. I've heard that numerous times. She's gotten away with abusing many children. So many have turned the other way & that's not right. She still attends church & has access to children. I was the only one who stood up to her. She's a sick & manipulative woman. She made Joan Crawford from mommy dearest look like a saint. She also abused my elderly grandma before she passed & I can prove that as well. Word is that gma just gave up & died because she knew that was her only way to get away from it.
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by Julie
(Kentucky, USA)
Growing up in a home of incest was my childhood. Starting at age 4 my dad began fondling me. The sexual abuse lasted 10 years. I lost my virginity at14 by my own dad. The abuse was a everyday thing. I saw my brother and sister have sex. My dad held on to my hand and made me watch. There was seven children in our family. No one talks to me now from my family because I was the only one who put my dad in jail for what he done. He only spent 15days in jail. I have been in therapy over 20 years, and I suffer with post traumatic disorder. I also have obsessive compulsive disorder, and am bipolar. The memories never go away. At 40 years old I still struggle to think of reasons to live. I have never felt like I belong anywhere, but I want to be here of my children, and I keep taking my meds.
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by Anonymous
(United Kingdom)
From a young age I have been physically and emotionally abused by my mum. On the lucky days, I got away with a slap. However, every other day was the same beating, smashing my head in to walls, hitting me with objects, punching me in the nose and everywhere, pinching me, strangling me, holding my head under water, starving me, giving me bruised eyes. Along with that I was emotionally abused with words such as "ugly", "tramp", "useless", "witch". I grew up believing that I was no good, that I deserved to die. I was a very shy kid, I barely spoke in school. When I was 10 a teacher began to notice my bruises. I was taken to a lady who I believe to be the school nurse, but I denied anyone was hurting me. I was beaten throughout the years, and it got worse with time. I was beaten for no real reason, just the reason that I was a mistake at birth. My siblings were never beaten, and they still are treated like kings and queens. But for me, I'm still treated like I am nothing. My teenage years have been the worst yet, particularly ages 13, 16 and 17. I've just turned 18 now and I'm still trying to deal with abuse. I'm threatened on a daily basis to be beaten up, but it rarely actually happens now, it actually stopped fully happening about a month ago, but I'm sure it may start again. I'm just still emotionally abused. I use ChildLine as my only escape and have been using it since I was 17. Having no friends because not being allowed to have friends has impacted me in a very negative way. I constantly feel lonely and like I don't deserve to be here, I feel like I should have another go at ending my life because my future looks dull. I tried to end my life at 16, it was horrible. I remain depressed and I am socially anxious, and am afraid of strangers. I know I am legally allowed to move away from home but my mum's not having it. She says I'm not allowed to move out until I am married off. She is very controlling, and has never let me out by myself. I can't concentrate properly at college and my grades are deteriorating. I see no happiness and I see no future, all I see is pain. When I was 17 social services came to me at my college after a report was made, but I denied everything out of fear. I fear my mum and I will fear her for life. Once when I was 15, I waited 3 hours for my mum to pick me up from my work experience placement. She was out happily shopping with my siblings, while I was stuck outside in the cold and dark for hours. I am cold intolerant, and she knew that, but she didn't care. The most humiliating part of this was that my house was 3 roads away yet I couldn't move from the spot as my mum kept calling me, threatening me, telling me that she'd beat me up and kill me if I moved from that very spot. All because I wasn't allowed to go anywhere without my mum. In those 3 hours I fainted because of hunger and thirst (my mum starved me) and the cold, and I woke up to a stranger asking me if I am ok. My mum always made threats like this, still does. She has even beaten me in public, but has made sure no one saw. She humiliated me in public many times and has denied that I am her daughter. She has actually told people that she only has two daughters and one son, excluding me, the oldest daughter. I see no escape. I'm afraid to tell someone as my mum threatens to murder me. There were days where my mum would starve me. The last time she did was a few months ago when I was still 17. My mum humiliates me in front of my extended family, and it's always me to blame for everything. I am bullied by my uncle. I'm sick of being treated like this. Darlene, when I gain enough courage to stand up against my mum and run, I will aspire to be like you. But for now, I am facing the fear of being physically abused. I face the fear of being forced in to marriage in future. I face the fear of being held captive like a slave for the rest of my life. No one understands me, no one wants me. I am hoping university would be a partial escape from my misery. I am so alone and I want my life back. I wish I just could forget everything. How do I get out of this? I have no money to run away. My mum has stopped me from getting a job. I live in fear. I don't know how much longer I will live. I just know that I will never win. I want to help others, Darlene. I want to help children who are going through what I have been through. Sadly in this story of mine I can't cover everything I have been through. But I can say that reality was/is much worse than this. Thank you for giving me space to share my story, you are an excellent person. Everyone should thrive to be like you Darlene.
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by Sharon G
(New Jersey, USA)
From the time I was 6 my Mother beat the crap out of me.Once when I was 6 my Grand mother made dinner, the spinach was runny. I couldn't stand the look of the green juice touching the mashed potatoes.I could not eat that dinner.My step Grand Father started yelling at my grand mother who by the way busted my lip open one night.Any way my MOTHER wanted to satisfy his anger,she punched me in the face,the chair fell back I slid about 4 feet and bashed my head into the radiator. my nose was bleeding bad. GrandPOP and every one shut up.My mother turned her chair to face me and screaming at me said GET UP FROM THAT F----- FLOOR AND CLEAN YOUR SELF UP. she then threw my plate at me.I jumped up blood every where.I ran to the bathroom . was drinking my own warm blood my Aunt came in she was shaking. She said go to bed,put this penny just above your nose on your forehead and it will help stop the bleeding.I laid there I closed my eyes and whispered to myself It's ok the whispering of those words helped me fall asleep.In the morning I woke up to find my pillowcase had alot of dried blood on it.And my nose was sealed with dried blood.My Mother acted like nothing happened.that is only one of the hundreds of bad times I had with her.The Abuse stopped when I turned 18 and got married.I didn't want to marry.I found no other way to get out of that house.Today she tells me I'm her princess,her baby,ETC ETC I say I love her . But I remember every rotten evil thing she ever did.I forgot to mention I ended up with a man who stabbed me in the face ,broke my fingers busted my eardrum threw me around kicked punched slapped.me I would work all week. And on pay day he took my whole pay and game me $20.00 a week.He Cheated made babies with other women.assaulted my sister and after 31 years of being his slave.He tried to beat me up outside the condo. I was screaming help me someone call 911 a neighbor heard. He threw me,thru the door while strangling me he was dragging me towards the stairs .he said you're leaving out the second floor window. I held onto the couch leg the police came.I remember one officer saying well you picked each other.The other officer picked me up off the floor.The man I was with stole every nickel i had as his name was on our account,also he destroyed my car.I am also at a loss of $12.000.00 in legal fees.So I'm 56 broke and broken.I have PTSD.and no way to afford doctors help.And I work 6 days a weekat a job I hate.Because.EVERYTHING I HAD IS GONE.THANKS MOM.LOVE YOUR BLOODY PRINCESS.
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by Marie
(Mississippi, USA)
I was the unborn baby of 6 children, when my father decided to leave my mother and my 5 siblings. I never met my father untill I was 27 years old, nor did I ever see a photo of him .... I had absolutely no idea of what my father looked like. I firmly believe that my mother's abuse of me occured BECAUSE she resented my very existence, seeing as my father was not there to help in raising and supporting me. I remember the beatings starting around 8 or 9 years old.... when the older kids were married and out of the house. I had a sister (she never got beaten) 2 years older than I still in the house with my mother and I. I never really knew that the beatings were abnormal... like a lot of abused kids, I guess. Looking back, I now know that my mother ALWAYS made me wear long sleeves and long pants under my dresses..... to hide the belt marks. She had a METHOD to her "whippings"... I stripped to my panties and was made to lay face down on the couch, arms beside me, face down. I got a stated number of "licks"... if I moved, more "licks: were added, if I cried, more " licks" were added, if I screamed out, she turned the buckle end of the belt on me and still more " licks" were added.
I was really and truly SAVED from my mother's abuse by my 4th grade teacher, she saw a belt mark across my face from a particularly bad beating. That teacher somehow got someone to come in and watch her class for her, and took me to the principal's office, where the teacher and principal and teacher asked me to remove my dress and shirt. After I did, both women stood there and cried for a few minutes, and I remember one of them saying something like "We have got to put a stop to this... we have got to DO something to help this child." They called my mother's next door neighbor (we did not have a phone) and asked for her to bring my mother to the school... it was VERY important. They then wrapped me up in a blanket and waited for my mother to come... I remember it like yesterday. When she show up with our neighbor, all hell broke loose....on her that is. The teacher and principal removed the blanket, and asked my mother how I had gotten the belt marks. My mother hemmed and hawed but she could not get out of the fact that she had done it to me... said I had disobeyed her and had been bad so she had whipped me for it. The Principal told her it was Child Abuse, and that she would see to it that I would be removed from the home if I EVER had a mark on me that even LOOKED like a belt mark. Now, people, this occurred back in Mississippi, in the early 1960's, and it was unheard of for a child to be removed from a home for child abuse... I don't think the term had really yet come into wide use yet. All I know is that threat worked. My mother never "whipped" me again. Her punishments turned to keeping me IN the house when I was not at church or at school. I got 6 weeks restriction if I got less than an A on my report card...no church activities outside of Sunday services. She refused to come to any of my reward activities... induction into National Honor Society at school, choir concerts at church, High School Graduation, even my wedding. SOOOO, she switched from physical punishment to emotional, I guess???
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by Miriam
(Birmingham UK)
Big family with no father to protect me:
I feel sick and dirty I keep blocking out my childhood relatives. I was 9 when my cousins 2 brothers separately started to finger me. I felt sick but for 50 p I kept quiet.mum couldn't buy much sweets for us.and I use to want to go shops like my friends to buy a bag of sweet. And I knew it felt sick relatives were doing. But they wouldn't give me money for sweets .
Unless I let them touch my inside. Am I sick .then they move away far. But at the age of 30 I saw one of them.wer both married. But he tends to hint hey do you remember wat you use to do for cash.i just said shut up wat you chating abt.havnt seen him since. I felt sick that he remembers. And after being married he wanted to remind me our secret.why do I feel shameful.on top I remember the other grown up 50years old monster.my brother inlaw who started to touch me .under my clothes and I use to cry and fear him 1year he made me uneasy and uncomfortable. And I prayed how it would stop I was 11 ther. I turned to stealing for comfort. That made me happy . chocolates . stealing from loved ones. I felt troubled with what's happening. I even got battered kicked like a ball front of grown up family member s.who thought I was a naughty kid. But it was all because I wanted that old filthy man to disappear from my life. Ok after 1 year god finally heard my tears and shifted that old man to London.far from Birmingham. Im happy.at last.at 16 arrange marriage at 19 divorce another mental abuse.so I escaped away for myself. To be happy. I met my husband at 24 years age .and by gods will we are still together 4 gorgeous boys. And away from so call fsmily ties.but memory if childhood hasn't gone sny advice. How I can stop thinking abt past. I feel it was my own fault I didn't say no. But who would believe me then.
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by Lynn
(Location Undisclosed)
I am 68 years old. My sexual, emotional and verbal abuse began when I was a toddler. I had dissociated from it so that I went on with my life. I went to college and became a nurse. I married a MD and we had a baby boy who had brain damage from birth, then I had a miscarriage and then I had my daughter who is 39 yo, married with a 7 yo son. I have a brother 4 years younger than me who is married. They have no children. He has been sober for 20 years after having a long fight with alcohol. My father was in the service, A F, and so we travelled all over, staying only 4 or so years at a time. It was acceptable for my parents to smoke and drink in the service. I thought everybody had happy hour at 5 pm. Not until I was an adult did I realize that was not true.
When I was three, my mother was just pregnant with my brother. One day she was in a horrible mood. She put me on the side of the bathtub and licked between my legs. Then she got the enema bag, which was red rubber ready. She put me in the tub full of water and then gave me an enema. Of course next came a bunch of poop, which made her anger. She took me out of the tub and told me to stand on a towel. She scrubbed the tub, sink and toilet over and over, then put me back in the tub to clean me off, then wrapped me in a towel and put me in my crib. I had no memory of these incidents until I went to therapy after my son died. I guess I just cracked up or cracked open, so that over a period of time from 1989 to 2007, I was in therapy with three different therapists, two psychiatrists and still had trouble coping because little bits of memory would come out. After one therapy session, when I was riding in the car or just anytime , I would talk in a little girl's voice and say "no no mommy, no no". This happened a lot until finally this 3 year old felt safe enough to come forward and the abuse was put together kind of like a video recording that was intact but hidden from my consciousness because it was too painful, but came out when I felt safe in therapy. Over my childhood I was sexually abused from 3 until 14. The emotional and verbal abuse was constant. My brother described that he woke up every morning feeling like he had already done something wrong. That was it, very denigrating, critical, cursing, all kinds of emotional games played on me and him. We just tried to survive, moving around the country and Canada, went to six different schools before graduation. You know, I am completely exhausted from writing this. I have PTSD so it is easy for me to get triggered and feel like I am back there. I was abused by both my father and mother, separately and apart, some of my dad's friends joined in. There was always lots of alchohol involved. When I was 5 , my father had a bad car accident on the way to work. The other man was killed. My dad had badly bruised knees from the knobs on the dashboard and a jagged cut under his chin where he hit the broken metal horn. From the time he came home from the clinic, it was my job to take care of him according to my mother because my brother was a baby. So dad was in bed, he was drinking whiskey and taking pain pills. He would pee in an old coffee can and it was my job to go empty it in the toilet. He couldn't move his legs out of bed due to injured knees so I picked up his legs and moved them from bed to floor and back. Sometimes he wanted me to sit next to him on the edge of the bed and he would fondle me. Don't tell mom or you'll be in a lot of trouble he'd say. The fondling made me nauseated and I always ran to the bathroom and threw up, then washed my hands and face and acted like nothing had happened. I was totally confused by his behavior and felt like I was being punished when he touched me.
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by Starr
(Newcastle, UK)
When I was 11 I was sexually abused by a family friend, my mother never knew about it because she was really ill at the time. At first I never realised it was bad but then I went to India to see family and my cousin had attacked me. I never said anything
As I got older it haunts me and angers me I didn't do anything to help myself.I grew up fast. An absent father, mother in hospital .. I never knew exactly what was happening with me but I honestly feel crazy at the minute. I don't know what to do.
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by Scared Blacksheepgirl
(Location Undisclosed)
Some of my disorganized story:
I hope this helps. I feel so pft about it right now. We moved from my parents second home to the third. I was about 6 1/2 or 7 then I think. I always wanted to entertain when I was little. I wanted to be a ballerina and a solid gold dancer. :) I loved taking pictures and dancing. My mom took me out of dancing because she said I didn't pay attention. I have felt someone sexually abused me because from a very young age I think 2, or so I was very scared of old men. It's gotten to be all men. Anyway I remember coming home from school to the new house and my brother already picked out his room so I got the room with the yellow walls. When I sit here trying to remember the first time my brother, or I was abused at the new house I can't be sure when the first time was, but I can tell you some of it anyway.
I have always felt for a long time that my parents were angry. My Dad passed away in 06, but my Mom is still alive. She's still angry.
I remember her putting me in front of the mirror and telling me to pull down my pants a little and then my tummy was more seen. She asked me if I could see the diffrence between her stomach and mine. Why would a Mom do that? My Mom was stick thin and in second grade I gained alot of weight. I remember having to run laps because I had gained weight. I had to run in the field/yard in front of our house and there were two trees. They were spread a good bit a part. I was also put on a diet by the dietition.
It was green yellow red diet. Anything green you can eat all the time and anything yellow show caution and anything red was don't eat, or barely ever. Well, you can guess what foods I liked best.
I always felt I would die early. Idk why. I liked the red foods. Red foods were potato chips, chocolate, junk foods galore. They would eat my favorite junk food in front of me. They made me run laps and they'd all sit on the front porch. I felt like they'd just sit out there and eat popcorn and watch. idk if they actually did that. I always felt like the oddball. Eventually my brother and I who had been real close ended up in the same grade because my mom and teacher felt I should be held back even though I was passing, but my dad didn't. My brother had to carry my homework for me the first year of 3rd. Idk if he had to carry it in my 2nd year when I ended up in the same grade with him. He ended up being a third parent. He had to carry the homework, teacher signed parent signed..etc. One time I couldn't say the word predicate and my mom had me and my brother up till 1 or something in the morning slapping us everytime we'd say it wrong. I think my dad did too, but I honestly barely remember it. I know my parents did love us. They made sure I got my meds for my shots n stuff. But emotionally I was humiliated alot. Even now at 40 I feel half child half adult. Anyway I remember my grandpa did werid things like my koosa he took it and put it's tail between it's legs and I thought why'd he do that? I had from 4 years old, or so up this thing in my head that I was being hurt by all these men and I was on a table, or alter, or whatever in the woods, or something. It was something I made up apparently. I remember wanting to kill myself starting at maybe...7 or 8. I remember this one time my mom said she wondered if I had measles and claimed something about spots on your private area so she wanted me to lay down and she'd look. Well she said do you care/mind whatever if your dad's in here too? I said no, but I wanted to say yes. He prob looked in the mirror. She took a flashlight n looked idk why...I remember going to the drs. I always hated going cuz they'd look in my places I didn't want ppl touching or looking. I wanted to go somewhere else. One time I looked at my dad when they were examing me in my private area and he stuck out his tongue and made a weird look... That made me uncomfortable. My mom used to talk about how my granDAD and aunt prob had some weird relationship like he prob molested her in front of me they'd say that stuff, my uncle he played a tape of him and a girl together when he was a teen at the table and she was saying stop you're hurting me...my mom told me about it. I was just a kid. Idk how old for sure, but why would u tell ur kid? I got babysat by my a diff uncle and I remember seeing him as an adult and he kept looking at me. I have wondered for years if somebody hurt me. I get scared of men if they stare at me, walk close to me, etc. I'll never marry because of this. I remember my mom made my bro and me stay out for a bit in the cold in our pjs till one of us told i think she came to her senses about leaving us out in the night time so she opened the door, but I admited to whatever it was n got it. One tme my dad was beating me with the wood cutter that was pretty big n thick. My bro told me after dad broke it beating me with it. my mom used to beat me over the head with hair brushes when she'd brush my hair or style it. and she wondered why I didn't want her to do my hair. I feel lately like it's no big deal, I mean I just feel like it's stupid to be upset about this stuff. When I was a little girl around 4 I guess it started I would always be reenacting what this lady at the dr's did she kept touching me in my area and my parents were in the room, but maybe they didn't see it somehow? I remember i musta been asleep and she was repeatedly touching me with her finger nails. BLEH! Idk who I am, or anything. Sometimes I wanna be a guy so I'll feel safe. I hardly ever feel safe. I feel like a little kid when somebody does something nice for me. I feel like I got more than an inner child, but idk how to explain it. I remember always from bout 4 i think always not sleeping hardly much or maybe it started a bit later, but I also remember touchy touchy on me. Idk why i did that, but I remember always since 4, or so but maybe earlier, my brother told my mom n dad he seen me doing something n my mom she made me shameful she didn't ask why maybe i could've told then, idk maybe i knew more. I was obsessed with that stuff n idk what's wrong with me my mom threatened to send me to the psych ward when i was a teen. I remember her saying she wished she could drug me up n drag me to the dr. There was always something wrong with me in her eyes. When I got a message from my brother cuz i asked if he ever kenw of anything n he said he seen whatever happened. idk what he means cuz he never told anymore then when i told me mom *this is now as an adult* she said "Who me?" Why would she say that? Idk why. I'm so confused. Idk who i am, what i want. I'm so scared. I'm aways looking around. Yes, my parents could be nice but they'd be nice mean nice mean etc. I remember when I was about 5 I think my dad was hittin my mom but mom started hitting him first. mom said to go get gramma. i dind't know what to do. I'm so alone. I need a friend. I have no friends. I feel so lonely. Sometimes I feel like this is just silly. i mean maybe other ppl got abused n don't even care. or think it's not even a big deal. There's more, but i don't wanna go on forever. oh except she had me on the floor and her hands around my neck and was screaming so loud ppl could hear her down the road. i have a stepdad who married my mom in 97. he can be nice, but he'll join my mom on the bandwagon. i'm visaully imapired so she drives me places sometimes, and i have so much guilt about her n my dad. when they divorced i remember my mom said "i'm going out to find a man!" my brother was prob 16, or so he was crying and pleading and begging her "Mom don't go. Don't go!" I felt like crying seeing him like that. SHE DIDN'T EVEN CAre THAT HE WAS CRYING AND PLEADING WITH HER NOT TO GO! I always felt like i had to be my bros protector. One time my mom she wouldn't let him see his girlfriend and i stood up for him and yelled at her. she didn't hitme or yell at me, but if i'd try stand up for me she would. I'm sorry Idk I feel so dumb. I just feel so disconnected sometimes. sometimes I cry sometimes i'm really mad sometimes idcare.i guess. I'm sorry for talking so long and going on and on. safe hugs. I will write more next time I guess. my mom even hit me in front of the marching band and i was crying and nobody did anything. She was so mean. still is alot of times.
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by Jan
(Canada)
When being a child hurts:
I was left abandoned by my mother, and put into the care of the ministry child development at the age of two, my brotherand myself placed in a home.The foster father molested me on a regular basis everything from touching rubbing kissing he molested me as soon as I was in the home, he would come in my room at night to touch me rub me, it was constant I treid to tell my foster mother, and case workers, but I was always told little girls don't talk like that, bad girl dirty girl. I had nightmares a lot, sucked my thumb a lot. at around the age of tweleve my foster father committed an indesent act outside the home and an assult he was placed on a two year probation and seek phyciatric help, yet I remained in the home with my brother, where he continued to molest us, the ministry knew he did these things outside the home it was in the local newspaper yet we remained in the home , where many more years of molestation continued. I hated him I couldn't stand the sight of him or his wife she knew he was molesting us and ignored it, I have tried to deal with ministry today but I have been told that due to the special circumstances of my complaint a resolution and administrative review is impractical, therefore I am left with no other choice but to pursue legal action, due to the sick home I was in I lost contact with my sisters I had an older brother whom was palced in a different foster home in which they failed to tell me anything about him, he called me oneday to tell me he was my brother, they failed to tell me I had a native grandmother they failed to inform me my mother started a new family in louisianna and wanted nothing to do with me. I was always told Indians were dirty and this all took place in the 60s up to the 80s they have have the nerve to tell me I need counselling, I have delt with this in my own way, today iam 49 yrs old I have two great sons and two beautiful granddaughters I have been married for 29yrs and have tried to put this behind me the foster parents have passed on and there own children pretend like he was a great man and his wife was a great women the ministry of child development has offerd me counselling, they never to this day told me why they left in the care of a sexual predator child molster the have offered me counseling if anyone is in need of counselling its the ministry for molesting me over and over again from the age of 2 to 18 every child is beautiful, it shouldn't hurt to be a child.
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by Robert W
(Ontario, Canada)
Childhood Horror:
I was born Dec 24 -58 and the reason want too writ my true story is of the truth it self,and some times its difficult because family are the ones that begin the abuse a home in my case,and the alcohol and the physicle abuse alone is enough for any young child.oi was to endure the fist from my father growing up and also the fear he put in to us 7 children was so horrific it was unreal,My Father was in the Korean war and maybe this is why he was the way he is, Between the Broken Noses i had endured from ealy childhood made me so fearfull of all men ,and my poor mother and her beattings and black eyes were as just as horrific ,the yelling the screams mom hitting the floor,this went on for all the years till i left at 15. But now i had to endure child sexual abuse from Relitives ,neighers and my own brother .sad thing is i was with over 15 men befor i was 15 years of age,and could not Understand that most of these men had children of there own,and for me i never new if i was gay or straight back then,but its quite the messy story and no child must live through this fith,i realy mean perversion, discusting, but the worst thing also my father use to take me out while mother was past out to do break and entering into emty homes or anything he could break into .for years,and what i dont understand is ,they all got away with what they had done with me,never been charged cause famil pertectected family always.my manuscrpt is finished pritty much,but need to type it all out,but always though no one would listen,cause it happend years ago. thanks for listning anyways ok.
God bless our Tiny Hearts
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by Anonymously Haunted
(U.S.)
One of three girls. Im right in the middle. Both parents were both Very abusive and neglectful. On the outside everything looked fine: nice middle class home, clean home,even a summer cottage to go to. However, on the inside it was Hell. Father was a Fireman,mother did not work until I was older and it was part time. The best way I could describe this setting is a huge Façade. Both my parents had serious issues with their siblings and parents and eventually, we did not see or speak to anyone anymore. My father was and I believe will always be a womanizing,lying, scheming, violent,tyrant who enjoyed hurting me. My mother was and is very mentally unstable and also equally as violent and tyrannical as my father. My older sister had chronic problems with them both and then years later, my little sister was born. Their marriage was so volatile with my fathers affairs,lies,and web of scandals, that my mother would actually take out her marriage frustrations on my older sister and I. She would set the stage for us to be beaten and today would be defined as tortured. Held upside down and beaten with his belt, food withheld, no usage of bathroom. Pulled down off of bunk beds and landing OVER and Over on my back has caused me permanent spinal damage. This went on for years and years until I eventually got older and started college. The dysfunction was beyond a NIGHTMARE. I was not allowed to go to sleep-away college. I was only allowed to go to a local college and was forced to work 2 jobs while in college full time. It was my dream to hurt them the way they hurt me. They imprisoned me my entire life with welts,minimal food and never bought me any clothing or shoes. It was like living in a hellish nightmare that never ended. I finally left when I was 20 and got married to a wonderful man and had a child. My daughter is now 20 and I love her so much. I have made attempts to have a functional relationship with my parents and 2 siblings but it just is not possible. They are just Toxic people and my sisters just are in it for the money that they will get and receive now. AS for me, I Want them to own what they did to me and apologize. I of course know that will will never happen. But, for me, I need/want Justice and Closure. I could write all day about their heinous crimes , there just isn't enough space. I don't want a pity party. I want justice. Today, they would both be in jail and I would have been placed in foster care. Not one relative stepped in as it was so cleverly hidden. They would hit me on my legs, backside and sometimes my feet. My hair was always pulled and earrings pulled out of my ears with blood. The emotional abuse was I feel, the worst for me. The feeling of being treated differently than your siblings. Yes, my older sibling was hit.. but not like I was. They ALWAYS were gunning for me. My father(I refer to him as the sick tyrant), would tie me up and kick me in my sides. He cracked my ribs,broke my collar bone,left purple brusises all over my body as he kick me with his boots on. I have no idea how I am still here today. I do know that I believe in God. It was God who kept them from killing me. The sickest part of my memories were of my mother. She would set the stage and look forward to watching the beatings. She would lock all the doors and make sure we could not escape from the beatings. I have gone for therapy and have tried with all that I can to try to get passed this now as I am an adult. This haunts me. The 2 skum are still very much alive and well. They have no relationships with any family other than my sisters and that is for self serving reasons. The really twisted part of this is how those 2 people will say "Oh, she's sick and needs help". That is there defense and explanation. The truth is they need to be in jail for destroying a child who was born to them. That's my story.
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by Kristy
(Mississippi, USA)
Time to start healing and moving forward!
I'm a 43 year old beautiful mother of four children. I'm tired of keeping secrets. The only way to begin the healing process is to let everything bottled up inside for so many years out. Why? Because of the shame the family might feel? No I really don't think it would bother them it's the norm with so many people and I just can't understand why its so hard to protect your child from a molester! I was 3 and my brother 4, I blocked the sexual abuse out and just dealt with the physical and emotional abuse.
I grew up a good girl always scared of disappointed all defending my self away from ridicule and judgement I grew up in the kingdom hall but never fitting in and told and showed many times by my peers, the more I tried to do right the more I was shoned on and ignored. What do you do when your invisible at home and in the religious organization you belong too! Many stray away. We'll I did at the age of 20 its lonely when your 20 raised believing if your not a JW you were doomed for destruction!
No one excepted me but the older ones, makes easy to stray away, well when I strayed away trying to find myself, in that process I discovered sex, I know it's been around for years but it was disguting and wrong it made me feel wrong. Then the nightmares started and then omg, I'm not dreaming I'm awake and having memories and my brother was there only 15 months older than me making him 4. By this time I'm married with a child of my own, terrified to take her around anyone! I finally got the nerve to ask my brother about the abuse and without pausing he said yeah sis we were little and the guy babysitting us made us have oral sex on him with others watching! I had a hard time accepting the fact that I wasn't protected from that person and when I would ask my mother it was always I don't know who babysat you cause you were always with your dad! How do yo learn to trust anyone when you've experience something like that.
I've been to myself for year, had a divorce in 1995. Had a son in 1997 by a friend I tried to trust who spiked my drink and no matter how hard I try I can't remember that night but I blamed my self because if I wouldn't have trusted him I wouldn't have drunk that one drink! In 1999 I enter into a ten year abusive relationship. So what if I got a couple of concusions, a false tooth, a busted eye and a few different types of guns and riffles put to my head behind closed doors and in front of my kids. It was fine I got beat and degraded growing up at home so that was normal!
I know now that all these forms of abuse are wrong, but after it effecting who? Not just me but my children! I'm 43 sick, laid off from work and homeless, my 20 year old is lost didn't graduate from school and has 2 beautiful little boys that need her, my 16 year old is in a gang and stole from me while I was in the hospital so I didn't have my rent and was just barely getting the meds I needed to work on getting better, my two younger ones are at my moms till I can get back in a place missing me being there at all times and missing their dad who on April 1, 2009 had a bit of karma sent his way and ended up in a vegatable state with less than 5% brain function.
Not getting help and keeping secrets not only ruin your life but it can destroy lives of those most precious to you who look to you for guidance and support!
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by Autumn
(England)
I'm known as the 'crazy one who made it all up':
When I was 20, at a family party, I had the dutch courage to tell my father that I knew what he did to me as a child between the age of 5-7. He cried and said he knew that was the reason why I left home at 16. No more was said and life carried on as normal?
I married and had a child, a son. I put my past behind me. Then years later, I had a daughter and the memory of my childhood came back to me, I refused to ever leave my father alone with my daughter, let alone hold her.
My husband knew what had happened to me but I never went into detail, I told him I had to have baths with my father and he took me to his and my mothers bed when she wasn't around. I wondered why one day he said 'quick, get dressed before your mother comes home' I didn't know what was happening to me, I was submissive, but then I was only 5 years old!
I divorced my kids dad when our daughter was a year old, he settled down with another woman and family. I flitted from one disastrous relationship to another and was 'judged' for that by my kids' dad and my family.
I decided that my mother should know why I never let her husband hold his grand daughter. I told her on the telephone, she told me I was lying. I never spoke to her again and told my kids dad to keep my parents away from our children.
When my daughter learned to speak, she informed me that her daddy used to take her and her brother to their nan and grandpa's to visit. I had it out with my ex and he said I was cruel and that our son should at least be allowed to see them. Behind my back, he carried on allowing our son to see my parents but not our daughter. My son lied to me and saw them behind my back even after being told what his grandpa did to me as a child. He said, that it was my issue not his.
One day, some years later, my kids dad phoned to tell me that my mother was terminally ill and that I should go and see her. I told him to stay out of it. He said I was cruel. Cruel? she refused to believe me when I told her what her husband did to me, she told all the family that I made it up and they all turned against me, nobody wanted to know me, I had no right apparently to come out with such a thing and 'leave it hanging in the air' they said if it were true, then I would have taken it further and taken him to court, but I didn't want to do that, I just wanted him out of mine and my kids lives.
One night, (my son had left home and grown up) my son telephoned me and said somebody wanted to speak to me, he put my mother on the phone, she told me she was dying but I had no feelings, she wanted me to pity her, I gave her none and told her to put my son back on the phone.
My mother died, my kids dad telephoned me to tell me. I asked him, begged him not to take his partner to my mother's funeral, he told me she had more right than me to be there as she had befriended her and that I had broken my mother's heart on her deathbed. I said I needed closure and that I didn't want him there, he said that he was there for our son and that I had a chance of closure when she was on her deathbed, I refused to speak to her.
The funeral was awful. The family treated me like I was invisible, they were all over my kids dad and his partner, even her grown up kids were there. That vision of that woman being at my mother's funeral and looking at me like I was just somebody off the street at a stranger's funeral is haunting me.
I never spoke to my father although he tried to make me feel sorry for him.
Some years later, my life has gone full circle and I remarried my kids dad but the funeral haunts me and the fact that he allowed our kids to see my parents when he knew what happened to me as a child. I told my husband 'exactly' what my dad did to me in 'detail' he said if I had told him years ago, then he would not have had anything to do with my family. That hurts, the fact is, I was abused, it is not a word, it happened to me many times.
I have no family, just my husband and grown up children.
I have nobody to talk to, my husband tells me to put it all behind me, I don't know how, I wake up silently crying most nights.
I am known to family as the crazy one who made it all up. The one who has had too many sexual partners, promiscuous, I let others abuse my body, what a sl*t! but then, it all started when I was 5 years old and didn't know what was happening... That makes me feel very sad.
My husband says we can't waste our lives being depressed over something that none of us can change. It happened, he wasn't doing anything wrong by keeping my parents in his life and that I was cruel to our son for trying to take them away from him.
STILL, I am known as the one who made it all up, the one who broke her mother's heart on her deathbed. My husband finally believes me, but I still resent him for dismissing and telling people what happened to me wasn't that bad???? It shouldn't matter what his ex and her grown up family think of me, they are no longer in our lives, but when my husband came back to me, his ex's grown up son sent me the most abusive letter stating what a cruel woman I am and judging me on how many partners I had whilst my kids dad was with his mother. That makes me so angry, my husband says he was just sticking up for his mother as he had left her then came straight back to me.
My life is otherwise good, Our daughter is a happy teenager, has her daddy full time and we are a family unit trying to put the past behind us...but then the ghosts keep me awake at night, the visions, the resentment, the anger, the hurt...
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to tell my story.
Mrs A
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by Kazuya
(Location Undisclosed)
My name means 'harmonies arrow' and I try to live up to that name but my life song does not back that up. I was 3 when I first was abused. It was by a stranger, a stranger my mom let in. He was high so he did not do much harm but he came back. He seemed to be at my house nonstop. He was also very smart when he would give me cuts he would make sure no one would see them. I also have a little sister and I am more of a butler to her than a sister and I would rather die than see her feel pain. Thats why I was abused I was protecting her but I could not stop the abuse to her. So I took my sister and we ran away. We were found but we did not go home we went to different houses. I still have contact with my mom and sister but i never will love anyone but my sister.
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by Max
(U.S.A)
My abuse started at a very young age.My father was the initial offender.It was a mixture of sexual,physical and mental abuse.I look back now at some of the behaviors i displayed then and can understand clearly why i went through that stage.
As an adult ive only had a few vague flashbacks of the abuse.Maybe this involuntary suppression of the abuse is a natural survival technique the brain conjures up.I will not go into graphic details of the sexual abuse (im not posting this to entertain pedophiles).
There have been several instances of sexual abuse by numerous offenders.
First was my father,then whilst walking home from primary school i was molested by three highschool students.Then my grandmothers brother.
Top this off with constant physical bullying at school and you have the makings of a very unhappy human being.
By the time i reached age 11 i was a mental train wreck.
My father had long stopped sexually abusing me but continued with mental and physical abuse right up to the point of where i left home.
My self esteem was nil and when i discovered drugs and alcohol i felt a bit of short term relief from my reality.Depression kicked in at an early age,i remember wanting to suicide at the age of 11.These suicidal tendancies continued through life and nothings changed.I still cope with life by using drugs and alcohol.
I did manage to gain a good paying career in my twenties which allowed some stability or normalicy might be the right word.
But there has always been an underlying negativity just waiting to rear its ugly head so i reach for whatever will allow me to blank out these moments.
Ive had many relationships over the years but only three serious ones.I dont allow people to get close very often.
The last serious relationship was the worst.I found myself in a mentaly and physically abusive relationship.I could insert
some colorful language to describe that sociopath of a woman i had ended up with but i'll save that for the day i catch up to her.
The relationship had pushed me over the edge and the hellish onslaught of depression was too much.
I parted ways with the sociopath but not before a series of long stays in psychiatric wards that did nil to help me.
I guess not confronting the issues of child abuse i carried with me didnt help.But when you feel guilt for something that was out of your control as a child its hard to open up for fear of being judged.
It was just easier to attempt suicide numerous times.I nearly succeeded a couple of times.
The psychiatric drugs did nothing but zombify my reality.And in the end the very thing that was supposed to help me almost killed me.
Ive stopped taking those kind of drugs a long time ago.
Im not quite sure why iam even sharing this story,it doesnt have a happy ending.
I suffer anxiety and depression but have learned to control it better.
I still rely on drugs and alcohol to get me through the rough patches of depression.
Anxiety i control by correct thinking alone.
Ive given up on relationships permanantly,and am better off for it.
Iam however a recluse,i rarely socialize but i do enjoy the wilderness a lot.
Suicide is always at the back of my mind,and i'd like to think it can stay there out of the way lol.
Iam a broken person,there will be no peace in my life.What those offenders did to me tore my mind to shreds.
Im not a success story,ive managed to live this long but is that an achievement?
I dont have quality of life,i exsist.
What some people chose to do to gain sexual gratification cost me my happiness in life.
Ive chosen to divorce myself (for lack of a better word) from society.I'm going out into the wilderness and staying there.
I like it there,it gives me peace,temporary but peace none the less.
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by Irene
(California, USA)
As far as I can recall, my abuse started when I was 5 years old. I remember my older cousins locking me in a room and pretend were going to play and they would sexually abuse me. On my birthdays, my uncles would take turns taking me out for my birthday and take me to places where they would then take turns sexually abusing me. My reward for being cooperative were gifts; toys, candies, etc. I was told that if I ever told anyone, they would never believe me and get in trouble instead. That nightmare which became my norm lasted until the age of 10. I was excited to finally be freed from the abuse when my Dad brought our whole family here in California. At that age I really didnt know what was going on and how it would affect me in the long run. Shortly after migrating here in California, just when I thought it was all over, it got even worst. The very place that I call home which is suppose to be your safe haven, became my prison. At the age of 11, my Dad would make my sister and I watch adult movies. I would then watch my Dad caress my sister and would say things like "rubbing her breasts will make it grow bigger". I mean at 11 I know nothing. This would happen EVERY weekend when my Dad would be off and my Mom at work. Then at 12, I became the victim. My sister stopped coming home and I would be the only one home. He would tell me to take showers with him, watch adult movies with him, and he would take me to the room and do sexual acts. I FELT HELPLESS. I couldnt run to my Mom because my Dad told me if I told her that I would get some beating. My dad always told me that sex is the only thing that a guy would want from me and to not bother being with one. He would then proceed to do what he usually does and gives me money after. On top of being sexually abused, my dad would have these angry outburst and beat me with anything that he can get his hands on; belt, wood, bare hands etc. I started running away, drinking, skipping school and felt horrible for my mom. My dad then asked my brother to start giving me a ride to school to make sure I make it to school. My brother would always come over DRUNK in the morning. He would take his clothes off when he gets in the house and would force me to do things on him. Again, he said that if I told someone, he would beat me up. I stopped coming home and when I would come home my moms eyes would be swollen from crying. If she only knew what I was running away from and if I could only tell her. I needed to be rescued and be out of the house. I then met my first husband and got pregnant at the age of 16, he was 25. Being with an older guy made me feel "safe". Motherhood basically helped me forget about the abuse. Went on to have 2 more kids and finished school as a RN. BIG accomplishment. I kept myself busy with school, kids, and work. Right after graduating, my mind wasnt as busy anymore. I knew I had to face my reality. I started getting anxiety attacks, panic attacks, I used alcohol and going out as my escape. I separated with my husband and started seeking professional help. I wasnt ready to let it all out and it didnt help at all. Partying continuued and I met someone. This someone made me feel that what I get is what I deserve. He was emotionally and mentally abusive. Being a product of child abuse, my mind was telling me that ITS OK. I shared part of my story with him. So he can have some kind of understanding WHY I am the way I am. I attempted suicide twice while I was with him and he was very supportive with my therapy. Just when I thought I was ok, I find myself back to square one. Every little hurt that he did would trigger a massive response. I always felt neglected and abandoned. I became dependent on him emotionally when he was the cause of it as well. That I didnt quite understand. He was the cause and cure at the same time. It was hard for me to trust. I always felt like people are out there to judge and hurt me. Being in a crowd felt uncomfortable and I would isolate myself from the outside world. We had a child together and eventually got married. Still, it was hard for me to trust. All I wanted was for him to RESCUE me. I wanted to be away from home because my very fear is AT HOME. I would hint him here and there that we needed to move out and would use "we need more space" as an excuse. I couldnt tell him truth because I didnt want him to look at my dad differently. I was ashamed. Home was never a home for me. I never felt safe in it unless my husband was there. Whenever my husband would leave, it would send me to a panic attack. He never quite understood the attention and my cry for help. Our marriage became troubled and he left our family. No one will ever understand how I feel unless they experienced it themselves. I thought the first step of freeing myself from this nightmare is to accept and talk about it in its entirety. This was it. Im nowhere near healed but the worst part of the abuse is done. Its the after math that I now have to deal with. It caused me relationships and friendships. They all served some kind of purpose in my life and im yet to find my own. Im glad im not alone in this journey of recovery and I hope my story shed some light and gave comfort to someone else who is also suffering/suffered from abuse. One day I will enjoy celebrating my birthday with no painful memories, accept gifts and compliments without thinking that "they just want something". One day... someday.... I will regain my self worth, self esteem and self confidence. I forgive those who broke me in million pieces. Im ready to pick all of them up and create a masterpiece of ME.
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Disclaimer: To the best of my knowledge the child abuse
stories on this site are true. While I cannot guarantee
this, I do try to balance the need for the submitter to be
heard and validated with the needs of my visitors.
From Victim to Victory
a memoir
How I got over the devastating effects of child abuse and moved on with my life
Jan 30, 18 01:13 PM
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