[Sara]

I am new to this site and not sure how to start, or if I even have the courage to share. I am the only child and now sole caregiver to an elderly mother who was, and still is, emotionally abusive. Outside of my wonderful husband I have no support system whatsoever among "real" people and so was hoping to find anonymous support here. Please let me know if I'm in the right place and if I can post here. Thank you.

[DianaJoy]

You are very welcome here, and very much allowed to post! Welcome :)

[AnonymousOne]

I’m 29 years old now. When I was younger I was abused both physically and emotionally. I grew up with the belief that I wasn’t smart enough, strong enough, fast enough or good enough for anything. I was an only child, but was still called stupid by just about everyone in my extended family. On the physical side, it wasn’t until a few days ago that I listened to one of the old Dr. Drew shows where a woman called up and explained her past physical abuse but saying that she brought it upon herself. It was like looking in the mirror. To this day I still think I brought it upon myself, but this is the first time I have acknowledged that there is another viewpoint.

When I was younger growing up I had no friends, and still don’t. At some point around college I decided that something was wrong with me, although I didn’t know the cause, but I had to do something about my self-confidence. After graduating college I decided to get laser eye surgery which helped how I felt about myself physically. It’s kind of funny because if you met me in real life, you’d think I was just like everyone else – I’m the confident guy that women are interested in, and is seen as being very extroverted. No one can figure out why I don’t have a girlfriend, and don’t want one. Little do they know that I have a deep dark secret, and not only do I not have any friends, I’ve never had a girlfriend, and feel extremely uncomfortable when someone goes to touch me.

[fuchia23]

When I was young my parents made the desicion to homeschool me and my siblings. They always claimed it was for religious and educational reasons. That it was the only way they could be sure that we were learning. Now I am convinced that it is because my dad could not stand to give up that control. I think also that he knew that his behavior was not ok, so he did everything to keep us from other people so we would not know that what he was doing was abusive.
Religion was used too as an excuse for him to have total control over all of us. He felt it was his god given right to dictate as he chose and to disipline my mom as he saw fit. She was not allowed to have a car or work and eventually to see her family on more than holidays. He quit letting my grandma come over. He told my mom what she could and could not watch on tv, even when he was not around.
The very worst part were his rages. You never knew what would set him off. He didn't like the way his clothes were folded. He didn't like what was for dinner. He'd go off and start screaming and cursing and using every insult possible........and. he. would. not. stop.
It was an all day event. I became and especial target for him and his rages. I'm not sure why. My only guess is because I am the oldest and I was a girl. My brother got a pass compared to the rest of us. I was allways too fat. Too dirty. He didn't like my hair. Too lazy. Too stupid. I hated everyone. I had bronchitis many times in a row when I was 12 and only got taken to the doctor once for it. I'd cough a lot and If I kept him up up at all he'd scream at me. But I wasn't allowed to be up at all, so I'd sit up in the dark, sick, to keep from coughing so he wouldn't yell at me.
At one point he decided I needed to get baptized and he mentioned it to me and I said I wasn't sure, as I hadn't really thought about it. He immediately began screaming at me that I was wicked and wanted to go to hell.
It was non stop. At one point he would come home from work every day and start screaming right away. I hated when he was home. I hated hearing his voice.
Interestingly, when he was drunk, he was in a good mood. If was was on a heavy drinking kick, things would be a little better.
I always knew things were wrong. I always knew they were bad, but he always put it back on me. Saying it was my problem and there was something wrong with me.
I'd try to defend my mom but he would become even angrier and claim that he had every right to act the way he was.
I was terrified to move out due to the control that was had over me. Near the time I finally moved out after college and really felt that they talked about me behind my back and thought little of because I worked and went to school and dressed nice. I found out later from my little sister that it was true. I'd walk out the door for school and they'd talk bad about me because I didn't want to stay home and do work for them. When I moved out, instead of saying goodbye to me he slammed the door in my face, because I dared to move out and leave his control.
I thought the pain would end when I moved out and it hasn't. My middle sister went through worse when she ran away at 17. My youngest sister is still at home and I don't know how to help her or even contact her in a way that would not get her in trouble.
The pain fades, but it never stops. It's always throbbing in the background. I know I'm never far away from being back to drinking vodka with my sleeping pills and cutting myself and being suprised when I wake up the next morning. I still feel responsible and it tears at me. Sometimes I want to die from the pain. Other times I wish he would die and we could all just move on with our lives. I wish my mom would stop denying the horrible things that happend and divorce him.
I just want it to finally stop.

[staradrift]

double post, sorry!

[staradrift]

My parents said they loved me, and maybe they really believed it, but they did not show it. I was left to drift through life with no guidance or care, no stable foundation. Our power and phone would get turned off a lot because they didn't pay the bill. My father once made us all lay out on the front lawn at night in sleeping bags so he could protest and yell at the PG&E guy when he came. My parents didn't seem to notice or care that I had no friends, that I spent my days walking alone around the perimeter of the playground and did not have normal interests like other kids. I would hang around my old 4th grade classroom because I loved that teacher, and she had to finally tell me to go away, but somehow no one thought to figure out what was wrong with me or help me. At home I was always forced to do things that were supposed to be fun but turned out not to be, like going to the movies but instead of seeing Bambi, seeing Apocalypse Now, or going to the beach boardwalk but instead of having fun on the rides or in the ocean, we would go at 6 AM when everything was closed and it was too cold to swim, then leave just as everything was about to open. I'm not even sure what it means to just have fun, since "fun" things always involved some kind of unpleasantness for me.

My father would take us to work with him, then leave us in someone's strange office for hours. I can't imagine who would just leave their children by themselves in the lobby of someone else's office, but my father did that. If I felt sick or bad, I would be ignored or laughed at by father for saying so. I remember once at the beach (one of the few times we actually got to swim), and getting overtaken by a wave and feeling like I was going to drown, and my mother sitting on the beach laughing at me as I truly believed I might die. She would also unjustly criticize me and my siblings in front of other people to save her own social face. I never got to develop a life of my own as a teenager because every single weekend I was forced to sit in a car for two hours to visit my grandparents for the entire weekend. I had a domineering best friend who yelled at me and tried to make me feel bad about myself, but no one seemed to notice or care about that either, and I was already used to people who pushed me around and didn't care about my feelings, so I accepted it. Because I was treated like I had no inner life or needs, like I was a doll to be moved around and used for other people's pleasure, I actually acted and believed that I was invisible - literally. My self-hatred was thorough and violent, and I considered suicide on and off since I was 14. Because no one noticed me, and my father domineered the household and my mother dully accepted it, I learned that domineering men who don't care about your feelings are normal and that my purpose in life was to do and be what other people wanted.

I don't think I was sexually abused as a child as far as I can remember. But I was exposed to porn at a very young age, right under my mother's nose, and she either did not notice or did not care. It definitely affected the way I looked at myself -- I thought those ladies in the porn magazine must have power, to make men go crazy just to see their bodies and wish they could have sex with them. I got the idea that maybe I could have power that way too. When I was 14 I was rejected by one guy because I wouldn't have sex with him without a condom, and I lost my virginity to a 19-year old I barely knew, but only because he tricked me. He had his fingers in me and then he smoothly replaced it with his cock, I guess thinking i was dumb and would not tell the difference? He also put his dirty toes in me - it was disgusting to me, and perfect for how I felt about myself. When I was 17 I got together with a guy who was 21 who tore down at my self-esteem, showed me lots of hardcore porn, and shared me sexually with his father and stepmother (and one time her son joined in), often filming and photographing what had happened. Since I thought my purpose was to make other people happy, and I would do anything but go back to the deadening chaos and depression of my family home, I went along with what he wanted, thinking that I had no other choice. This went on for several years until something in me snapped and I refused to do it anymore. After he cheated on me for the millionth time, I finally left him, but I went through periods of horrible promiscuity throughout my life, having sex with men in order to have power over them and thus force them to love me and value me, to the point where I felt that there was a black hole where my heart used to be. I was only lucky that I met a wonderful friend who loved me and didn't want to use me, and he helped me stop that horrible cycle.

Now I am with a loving and caring husband who wants a normal sex life with me, but I have no idea what a healthy, loving sex life is. All I know is power and domination and use. And I'm hoping that by exploring my sexual abuse I will get better.

[jenpar1674]

Hello,

I don't know where to begin. From the time I was old enough to remember anything, I remember being in an environment where there was physical violence going on.
My father would have unpredictable, violent outbursts that just seemed to come from nowhere.
He would destroy property, scream, yell, and threaten to kill both my mother and I.
I remember very little but what I do remember is disturbing.
This went on until the age of 8. During that time period, I was sexually molested by the teenage son of a baby sitter.
I was a very confused and frightened little girl. My mother was not a comfort to me. Her philosophy was just "suck it up and get over it".
I had no one to teach me coping skills. I had no idea of what to do with all that pain, fear, and shame.
She herself could be verbally abusive and mean. Often I think she took out her pain and frustration out on me.

I grew up in an environment where feelings were not allowed to be expressed. Noone cared about the pain.

My parents have passed away. I now find myself really coming to terms with the repercussions of the abuse. I have poor relationship skills and sadly have pushed away someone I love very much.

I exhibit many of the characteristics that are associated with abuse.

It helps to know that I am not alone. I am not a "bad" person. I am a survivor who coped the only way I knew how at the time.

[TomB]

hi. Is it ok if I post here?

[jenpar1674]

Yes you can post here.

[StumbleFirst]

I am 30 years old. I am completely new to this but a therapist friend suggested I join and tell my story, confirming that while my thoughts and feelings are individual to me, my abuse expireinces are not.
As long as I can remember I have had tiny flashbacks to sexual abuse. The physical beatings I remember clearly, but the mollestation I had always hoped was some fluke in my brain. It couldn't have been real. When I tried to talk to my mother about it, she told me it never happened. However I can not live shielded in my parents denial.
I have a brother who is a year and a half younger than I. As long as I can remember he has been extremely aggressive, abusive, and exhibits strange sexual behaviors. I can't remember when it happened first, but he used to hurt me. I remember waiting in the car on Easter with him while my mother was inside the house getting potatoes she had made to share. While waiting, my brother held me down and burned the ends of my fingers with the car cigarette lighter. When I was six he beat me in my back and head with a pool que ball. I remember him coming into the bathroom when I was showering and pouring powdered lye over the top of the shower curtain onto me, I was about 9 then. When I was in sixth grade he accused me of cheating at the card game uno. In retaliation he came after me with a baseball bat. I was inside my room with my dresser and desk pushed against the door when my mother came home. He had completely beaten through the top of a solid oak door.
My parents said his behavior was beyond their control and really did nothing to stop him. He frequently threatened my mother and I with butcher knives. He must have been 11 when he cut the phone lines and sat at the bottom of the staircase with a pile of knives infront of him while my mother and I were held upstairs. "Brothers and sisters fight, its normal," was always the answer. But this was beyond fighting. It happened all the time, without warning. Beating, biting, kicking, ripping my hair out, holding me down on the floor and choking me, throwing things at me (rocks, D batteries, fireworks, hot pans, knives); it was just how he was. No one stopped him. My father left and my mother was afraid of him.
I clearly remember him stealing my bra's and underwear. Finding him masturbating in my room, or in the living room (even infront of my friends). He was often caught with pornography; videos he would record by ordering from the cable company, magazines, calling 900 "sex chat lines") even at a very young age.
But there are fragments. Things I had always wondered if I had dreamed up somehow. Waking up in the middle of the night to him in my room fondeling me, watching me, touching me. I do remember when I was 10, he and his friend holding me down and penetrating me with a toy sword while we waited for my mother to get home from work to take us trick or treating. I felt so ashamed and wrong. Like it was my fault. I was afraid to tell, I didn't know if anyone would do anything, or even belive me. When I was 14 I found dust on the top of my stereo speaker from my brother drilling a hole through the wall so he could watch me alone in my room.
When I was 16 I left home. I went through a brief period of promiscuity before becoming almost entirely abstinant. Always blaming myself. Always feeling like there was something wrong with me.
I have been a drug user, though never heavy. Under stress I cut myself. Still. I have an eating disorder, somedays secretly sneaking off to weigh myself after every meal. I have severe anxiety and extremely low self worth. I have a hard time talking to anyone about this. I am embarrased and ashamed. My mother won't talk about it because it upsets her and I have a hardtime admitting to a partner how emotionally abormal I am.
My brother, now 29, still lives with my mother. She is still afraid of him. He has started communicating with girls on web cam sites. He is currently involved in some sort of scam, sending his every dollar to someone he met online who promises to get her passport and fly here to marry him and be his sex slave. My mother, very upset recently asked my help in obtaining an IP address for this person. When I got onto my brothers computer, I found it full of videos of girls being raped. Listed in his favorites in his web browser were several websites containing images and videos of young girls and women being sexually assaulted in their sleep. I couldn't look anymore. I shut down.
Now I feel haunted. I can't sleep. I remember more and more. I wake up crying. I have never had a positive sexual relationship. I never have desire for sex and often freeze up when touched. Its been the ruin of most relationships I have had. I have always felt like there was something wrong with me. Why hhave I never enjoyed sex? Its always painful, I always close my eyes and hold my breath. Sometimes I even start to cry. I never have sexual desires or urges. I lay in bed with my partner and pray in my head "please don't let him touch me, please don't let him touch me." Other days I am stronger and can (as I have been told) "take one for the team." Pretending to be excited or that I am enjoying myself in an attempt to maintain normalcy and prove an act of love. But afterwards, I disassociate. I feel like a freak. Its never enjoyable. I feel like I am unpleasing to a partner as a result.
Now that I am remembering, its getting worse. I am looking for a support group in my area and starting therapy. I know I have a long road to go on. I hope I can find peace.
I haven't been able to talk about this verbally yet, but my friend was correct in that I am able to write about it much easier. It took about 2 hours, but I did it.

[Sash15]

I know that sharing your story is really important. This is something that I have struggled with throughout my journey. I don't have a support system in which I can share, much like others. I am isolated friends are scarce and my husband is overseas. So having someone to talk to is hard.
My story may not be as gruesome as some, I was sexually abused by my older brother when I was 8 and I honestly don't remember when it stopped or even why. I know it went on for years and when it stopped I must have repressed it. I remember the first time I realized what had happened to me. I was 15 and in health class watching a video on molestation. I remember this sudden rush coming to my face and I felt very weak. I had to leave the classroom. From that moment on my mind was such a whirlwind of emotions from rage to sadness. I sank into a deep depression. All the memories came back with a vengeance. I hate myself, I hated my family, I hated everyone around me. I was not a pleasant teen after this. I started abusing drugs shortly after, pot, pills, coke, you name I did it. I needed my memories to fade. I kept journals when I was high, it seemed like the only time I could face it. My mother noticed a change in my behaviors and eventually caught my drug use. I was 17. I eventually told her what happened. She was angry. She confronted my brother who admitted to the abuse. And then nothing happened. She sent me to rehab, told all her friends that I was an addict. My brother went on his life. She didn't do anything. While I know it must have been hard for my mother to accept that her child abused her other child I felt betrayed by her lack of actions. It felt like she was blaming me. I felt so horrible, even worse than what I did previously. I wanted to die. So I complete my rehab program, graduated and went on to college. I never stopped with the drugs. I was involved with a guy whom I moved in with who was also abusing drugs. We would revolve our day around it. That's the only thing that we were really compatible for. And then our relationship, which was always tumultuous, became worse. He forced me to have sex with him. I felt trapped. If I didn't have sex with him he would kick me out, and then I had no where to go. Going back to my mothers did not seem like an option so I did what he wanted me to. I degraded myself in a manner that I am still so ashamed of.
Eventually I left him. He stole money and caused a lot of financial difficulties but I eventually got my own apartment and became sober. Sobriety has been a blessing because it has forced me to deal with my issues. I've been in and out of counseling. I still struggle, but I'm sure everyone does. It's hard now, because I'm married. I have a wonderful husband, who is so supportive in everything I do and have been through. Unfortunately our sex life suffers because i am still so uncomfortable with sex and my body. I don't think it will ever change. I don't think I'll ever be comfortable with who I am in that way. It's really hard because I so desperately want that. I want to be normal, which sounds so crazy because what is normalcy anyway? We all have our baggage, this is mine.

[StumbleFirst]

I understand, going through what I went through with my brother, turning to my parents was also just as hurtful. Both of my parents admitted they knew about the abuse with my brother. They both said "it was beyond (their) control." "We didn't know how to help him..." they said. But I felt so betrayed, why hadn't they tried to help me? They said they wanted to protect me, but he was their son too and they didn't know how to handle the situation. My mother even went so far as to begin crying and saying how she had become so upset by my questioning and accusing me of making her feel guilty. Not only did she not have an answer to the denial of the past, but now she wanted to make the focus of the hurt on her. She didn't offer the kind of response I had imagined. My dad had a more "blame your mother, she raised you," approach. Which was true, he left when I was 11, just as my brother really started to spin beyond control. I just don't understand why the only option was stop him, when someone should have protected me. It unravels depths into my trust issue history. And sex? I want to feel normal. Normal I guess I compare to banter between my girl friends, or gossip amongst the guys. Other people are having sex. Just not me. I've never had the urge. The only part that makes sex pleasurable is the closeness and knowing that I am doing something pleasing for my partner. But freak doesn't even begin to explain why so many times my boyfriend kissing my nipple has ended with me crying in the bathroom with the door locked. He sits on the otherside and tells me he loves me no matter what we are dealing with sexually. This then makes me say in my own head, "Isn't he great? He deserves someone who can please him sexually. I can't even sleep naked. I'm a...." And I sob more.

[sbsb540]

Hi, I would like to tell my story here. I have been emotionally, physically, and sexually abused for most of my life. The sexual abuse was committed by two different men, both strangers, at ages 9 and 10. Now I am older and under constant scrutiny by my parents. They have controlled every aspect of my life from day one. When they found out I was molested, they never contacted anyone about it, they just let it slide and tried to tell me I was just dumb for thinking anything of those events and just let it go. Naturally, I exhibited a lot of traits of trauma and abuse and later bpd, and my parents became more and more violent. My dad would hit me and push me across the room a lot. He nearly broke my foot once as well. I was 15 at the time. When I got older and learned to fight back the physical abuse stopped but the emotional abuse got even worse. They would not let me work, I was supposed to take care of my (autistic) sister all the time while they went out. This went on way past a normal age, when I was supposed to be out living my own life I was at home taking care of my sister, doing what they wanted to do, and behaving how they wanted me to behave. Now I'm 28 and finally finding inside me the strength to move on and get out of that situation. I know it seems like not a big deal compared to some of the more serious posts, but this has caused me a lot of anxiety and depression, and fear of myself and others.

I am glad I found you guys. I will be back to post some more soon.

[SWP]

I am 58. I have trouble separating how much abuse is the result of family vrs society in general. If abuse is public people will often intervene. Reporting abuse is worthless.

I was molested by a door to door salesman when I was 10. The police told us, "I might be a crazy old man one day." I did not pass the lie detector test and no charges were press. My new stepfather molested me when I was 14, and that was totally dismissed as a misunderstanding. My sister thinks it didn't count because you just had to shout him down. The police interrupted a rape when I was 16, two men had bloodied my lip and pulled down my pants. Those guys actually got probation. Even when my father found out about my mother's boyfriend molesting me and my sister in front of my brother, it didn't matter.

I visited my sister for the last couple weeks after the death of her husband. She is 100% disabled due to being emotionally disturbed. She seldom gets out of bed or leaves the house. My mother and her friend spent two hours badmouthing her when she picked me up from the airport. Then she expressed all sorts of compassionate sympathy when she arrived. My mother wanted to take over the funeral and make it her social event. My sister wanted a private funeral. I was happy that I was there to make sure my sister's wishes were honored, it was dignified and my sister's church was there to support her.

Its helpful that my sister and I can share some of our experiences. Most people tend to place badmouthing as vanilla neighborhood gossip. But neighborhood jerks don't usually lie to social authorities. My sister was a good student and athlete when she was young. My mother worked in hotel security and had my sister pose as a prostitute with her when she was 13. She claims my mother told everyone at church she was a prostitute. This time she produced a document that indicated my mother had given her doctors permission to preform a pelvic exam. I question my mother about this and she said, "I'm embarrassed to say I contracted gonorrhea and thought I might have spread it." But why not have all of us tested?

We were on our own by the time we were 16. Mother went to the school board and signed an affidavit claiming we were moving to Jamaica so no one would look for us. The high school counselor bought my younger sister, 15, sneakers hoping she could stay in school. It didn't matter that I had already dropped out of school to support her. Why not call the police?

My sister did become pregnant by an older married man. She moved back home to have the baby. While she was living at home, I remember she was hungry. I supported myself cleaning kennels but, bought her groceries. She moved out again when the baby was about 2 weeks old. The baby died. After she was interrogated for a few hours an autopsy revealed the baby died of pneumonia. The police took her back to my mothers. The father of the baby attended the funeral. Why wasn't he arrested for statutory rape? Why wasn't he at least expected to pay child support?

My mother grew up in an upper class family, attended some college and always went to church. After receiving a large inheritance she eventually moved to a mountainous area where she felt socially important. Naturally my sister went with her and her new church obsesses over the place of a woman. She sometimes likes to comment on my sister's mental condition as though she is ignorant and uneducated. "I think you kids must have been anemic when you were small because every time I smacked you your mouths would bleed. Maybe I was too hard on her."

I don't believe she did 'that' but, her moron friends probably did and this is why CPS took their children. Its her way of saying she supports abusing children and she's very politically active (has pictures attending functions with the governor). All the way back to the airport I heard questions about whether I would go to hell if my plane crashed and how people took the law into their own hands in these parts. If they don't like some one they can disappear. I always thought my mother wished I was dead.

Maybe the most difficult thing is appearing normal and liking yourself. I know I'm awkward but with many years of practice, I'm normal awkward. I haven't found it useful to talk about my experiences because no one can relate to them. No one knows what to do and they are afraid that you are a piece of hopelessness that should live someplace else. So I focus on self improvement, setting personal boundaries and being healthy. It's my way of keeping awful inner voices quiet.

[IrishLove]

This is probably the most difficult choice I have ever made in my life. I am completely embarrassed by the things that have been done to me and have spent several years hiding from it and pretending that it has never controlled my life. I have successfully raised an amazing daughter by myself for the last 16 years and now that she is graduating high school next month, I am finally realizing how I have not let anyone in my life get close to me. I am finding myself with no friends and I do not trust anyone. I don't know where to turn or what to do. I can only give you a brief introduction into my childhood and the abuse I endured from age 2 through 16 and I hope someone out there can help me with a first step of where to go and how to begin to face something I have ignored for most of my life.

This is me......

My mother was married 6 times while I was growing up. She was a very irrational woman with mood swings from very HIGH to very low. I never knew which mother I was going to get each day, so I would tread lightly. I am the oldest of 7 and took the bulk of the abuse as I was always trying to protect my brothers and sisters. In a nutshell, I was sexually, physically, and emotionally abused from my mother. I remember a time when my younger sister walked in on my mom making me touch her in places that no child should ever have to even come close to understanding. My mom shoved my sister's head in a toilet and told her that if she said anything to anyone, she would kill her. This was not a rare occurance in our lives.....it was a daily lifestyle for me. My mom always married drug addicts and dealers and they of course would have their way with me both physically and sexually. I tried to go to my grandparents and told them often of the things that happened to us, but NO ONE ever did anything. I did have neighbors that would go to our school or call CPS, but when I was a kid, you had to be able to tell the CPS worker what was happening with your mom and "dad" sitting right next to you. What kid in their right mind would do that. Remember that movie, "Mommy Dearest"? Yeah, that was my mom times 100. I read David Pelzer's book a few years ago and for the first time in my life broke down hysterically because I had spent my whole life thinking that I was the only one. Reading his book made me think that maybe we had the same mother. The worst part is my mom had friends that were very abusive and she let them beat us as often as they wanted. I feel like I have lost a part of my life that I will never get back and worse now, I am watching my daughter grow into a beautiful adult and I don't know what to do with myself now. I struggle with dating, I have a hard time making friends. I have a wonderful career and find myself buried in my work when I don't have something that I have to do for my daughter. I need someone. I need to tell my story and have someone tell me it is okay and that I am not a freak. I need someone to be my friend, so that I don't have to keep lying about my fake childhood because I don't want to tell people the truth. I just don't know where to begin.