Posted by:
presleynfactsrock
(
)
Date: April 18, 2019 02:10PM
Just look at the list of names on this thread of posters who endured (and lived through) horrific, unthinkable emotional and physical abuse AS CHILDREN......
***Cheryl
***Amyjo
***Tevai
***exminion
***mythb4meat
***donbagley
***Jaxon
***Aquarius123
***HeidiGWOTR
***Presleynfactsrock
Abuse that includes being kicked, hit, smacked, being thrown out of a car, made to clean out cooking bowls without leaving a kernel of food, having your arm twisted badly, being made to eat every morsel of food on your place even if you couldn't stomach it, being ignored because you were a girl instead of a boy, being ignored period, being beaten with a belt snapping at your heels, having a rifle aimed at you with threats and swearing, AND ON AND ON AND ON!
I really am almost at a loss for words at what each and everyone here (and I'll include myself) have endured and witnessed. OMG, OMG, OMG. Thanks for the thread Cheryl.
My abuse was mainly emotional abuse, but also some physical. I grew up (ha, ha, it took me forever to grow up because of this homelife) in an alcholic home where my Mom and us kids all had to tip-toe around the proverbial elephant in the room. My Mom (may she rest in peace) worked and worked somemore, even reporting for duty to do my Dad's work) while he layed around drinking his nasty, homebrewed wine. He was mean when he drank, soooo that meant he was mean about all the time.
To give you an example of his meanness and arrongance----when my Mom delivered me, the #7th girl (of course he wanted MEN). he had not been there, surprise, surprise, to be with her when she was giving birth, these were the nasty words he said to her, "Another girl? huh. Is that all the better you could do?"
I did not hear this tale until I yanked and pulled some (any) information out of my Mom about my past and our family's past.
No talking was how our family did not function. And, if by chance you told anyone outside of the family any family secrets, well, that is when there was lots of talking all of a sudden, hell a stream of talking in the form of mostly loud, very loud cuss words from my Dad while my Mom just huddled in a corner of the room like a scared, cornered mouse.
I learned this information when I was having problems with depression in my twenties, finally found a book that described how alcoholic parents created children to be victims of an alcoholic syndrome. Discovering this book entirely by accident at the library (remember those?), it was so unbelievable and ground-breaking to realize my siblings and myself were right there in print! She was describing our various traits and personalities to a tee. This scholar and researcher is one of my heroes. It was a true break through for me which might have even saved my life.
I became the only one in my family to break out of the alcoholic abuse cycle which I am so grateful for. It was due to finding and reading that book, searching, university courses, and help from a very capable and caring counselor. Boy, life can be a struggle accompanied by tons of hard work. I wouldn't let up once I found some confidence, some love, and my voice.
Emotional abuse is a bu**ar. It was horrific to be a child who was not noticed. I was never good enough to do anything except get out of the way. Never hugged, never heard the words I love you, never had a birthday party and only a few times did I get handed a present. I was put down and made fun of because I did excellently in school, eventually attended university on a full scholarship (we lived in poverty so I could never have gone otherwise), but told I was wasting my time and I would never succeed.
Well, I was determined to prove them wrong and, since I had become very talented at hustling and over-achieving to get noticed at least at school, I became the first and only one in my family to graduate university. Never did get a Congrats or anything from my only surviving sister nor from my Mother, but my brother, two years younger than me, surprised me by traveling from out of town to my graduation, arriving with an armful of beautiful flowers. I cannot tell you how thrilled and tearful I was to see him.
I suffer with PTSD and wake up to images of my Dad aiming a gun in my face (which he did do, several times, to us kids, His kids, the memories which I suppressed, only discovering them by pestering and pestering to death an Aunt to talk to me.
My Dad died due to alcohol killing his liver, my Mom became a single Mom when I turned six, having to leave town to head to the city to find a job without having a high school diploma. To her credit, she was a very hard worker, managing to keep us in food and with a roof over our head. We kids all worked early to buy our clothes, help out, etc. When Mom was 60, I attempted to draw her into a discussion to learn more about my past and her past. Refusing, she looked me in the eye, which she seldom did, saying, "Presleynfacts, what good would it do?" I replied, "I have learned and believe from my counseling it can help me, and probably, you. Would that be good enough?" Nope, it wasn't.
Hugs and more hugs to all of us. We are survivors and we're strong, yet I would have certainly preferred to have grown strong from love and positiveness, but hey, it wasn't to be.
Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 04/18/2019 04:43PM by presleynfactsrock.