Child Abuse Story From
Marnie

This child abuse story from Marnie page was created January 5, 2007 and was originally posted on December 12, 2006 as story #52.

Marnie is from Thornton, Colorado, USA

The following child abuse story from Marnie depicts physical abuse and severe emotional abuse.

The child abuse effects on Marnie: extremely low self-esteem, promiscuity and choosing abusive relationships when she allows herself to get attached to someone.

Child Abuse Story From Marnie:

Compared to most of these stories I was not abused, but compared to most "normal" lives I was. My mother had to keep her pregnancy with me a secret, as her family would have taken her to Mexico to get an abortion. Pregnancy out of marriage just was not permitted.

For the most part, she was a single mother at first. However, she obviously had a boyfriend of sorts, because I have heard stories of how he broke my arm at the age of 1 1/2. I had been told not to put my hands into the dishwasher, and when he caught me, he closed and locked the door of the dishwasher. After that, I had to go to work with my mom, (she was a waitress), and I got fat eating the ice cream the customers would buy me.

When I was 2, my mom married the man I considered my father most of my childhood. We had a "normal" storybook life. We always had a decent home, food on the table, and all the things we needed. This would not continue, because while my "Dad" was out working hard on his college degree and for the Air Force, my mom was being a drunk. She drank all day, and tried to sober up for when my "Dad" got home. She put water into the liquor bottles to attempt to hide it . . . during my childhood, I thought it was normal to go to the liquor store every week and fill up the car, just like the grocery store. After 9 years of this, my "Dad" divorced her, and this is where the fun begins.

We went to live in Ruidoso, New Mexico with our mom. By this time, I also had a sister and a brother. I was 11, she was 6, and he was 4. With no one there to tell her otherwise, my mom didn't have to confine her daytime drinking to the house anymore. She was in the bar from open to close. Even though my dad paid her enough Child Support that we should have been fine, none of the bills had been paid. Three months later, we got kicked out of our house. My mom made me spread the paint thinner as she followed me with matches. I had to go back in to rescue my dog, and we were headed out of town. Unfortunately, the owner's son had witnessed the entire thing, followed us out of town, and said if we didn't head back he would shoot our tires out. We headed back. My mom said that if I did a good enough job of crying to the police, she wouldn't go to jail. Well, I know now that a child's tears will not beat an arson rap, but I didn't at the time. I felt like I had failed as they hauled her off to jail. I would never see her again. Her father bailed her out of jail, and she killed herself.

I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle. The brother and sister I had grown up with went to live with their dad. We never knew we'd be split up. Now I had four brothers, three older and one younger. The older ones had just hit their teen years. I was blamed for everything they did. After having lived as an Air Force brat, this house was out of control. Both my aunt and uncle worked, and they came home between 6 and 8 every night. I was always hearing "this house was fine until she came". My aunt even accused me of wanting to sleep with her sons.

At 14, I was sent to live in the group home. One time during my stay, I was sent back to my aunt and uncle's house. But I made sure to get sent back to the group home. There I only got blamed for what I actually did. And my reality had only to do with my behavior, not what kind of day the grown-ups were having.

As a result of taking the blame, I have spent years dealing with self-esteem issues. I had a few short relationships with abusive men, not believing I was worth any better treatment. I got pregnant young, and lucky for me I knew enough to not have a child born into that. After being accused of wanting to have sex with my "Brothers", I became a promiscuous teenager, feeling that I was dirty anyway. I have spent years dealing with abandonment issues, feeling like I wasn't a good enough daughter for my mother to live for, and that no one wanted to keep me. I have also done some running from attachment, not wanting to get too close, just to get hurt again.

But, that is not why I chose to write. I am writing in hopes that someone in the child protection system is reading this. The system we have in place now does not work. I consider myself lucky that I never lived in physical fear. If I was an abused child, or wife, for that matter, and I called the police, in this country, the perpetrator would only be taken to jail if there were marks on me at the time I called. And that would only be for a day or two. Either way, I would remain in the custody of the abuser while the "investigation" was done.

There will be abused children and abused women until something is done about our system. Once a victim reports a crime, they should not have to face the perpetrator ever again. It may seem like a quick response to a Social Worker to have a child removed from a home in two weeks, but for a victim, this is an eternity. An eternity they know they may not make it through. For as long as victims have to go home--the law doesn't realize how many people walk right through restraining orders--this situation will go on and on . . . .

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References

NOTE: Information pages on this site were based on material from the
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Child abuse story from Marnie was re-formatted June 5, 2015