I didn’t fully understand the impact of my “rough” childhood until recently.
I am writing this anonymously, as just a blogger where my readers do not know me. That makes it easier to say what I want to say and how I feel.
When I was a child I suffered from physical, verbal and emotional abuse at the hands of my parents. I love them and since I have grown up they have grown too. They seem to be more mature now but they weren’t always this way.
My parents married really young. When I say young I mean that my mother was 16 and four months pregnant with me and my father was 21. I think that my parents were just too young, maybe not mature enough to have children at the time. I feel like they grew up right alongside me.
As early as maybe two or younger I remember my mother telling me that she hated me, that I had ruined her life and that it was all my fault that my parents ever got married. This happened while she was drunk or high and my father was either drunk or high as well, I didn’t know that they were under any influence as a child but as I grew older I started to learn about drugs and alcohol at school during D.A.R.E.
I have three younger siblings. I tried so hard to shield them from what was going on as much as possible. We all got beatings as a form of punishment. At times we were told to fight each other until someone gave up as a form of entertainment, if we gave up our father would never let it go or he would let all of the other kids “get us”.
After I started school I realized that we were not a normal family. None of my friends would get punched or slapped so hard that there would be a stinging reminder for days when they were in trouble. None of my friends were afraid of their parents.
I remember my parents telling me that if I ever told, all of us kids would be taken away and that we would not have our siblings with us anymore. I remember lying at school over and over about bruises and marks. I lied and said that my younger sister had slapped me where my mother had. I had to lie or else I would lose my siblings.
I remember being forced to eat everything that was put in front of me. If I wouldn’t eat then I would be force-fed, which would cause me to vomit and contributed to my major gag reflex that I have today. When I would vomit my plate would be saved for my next meal. Sometimes I would test it and hold out but I never made it more than three days or so because I would eventually get hungry.
I remember my parents beating on each other. My mother would hurt my father then he would hit her and it would go back and forth with them hurting eachother most days.
I remember walking to school in the cold or waiting at school to be picked up and always being the last family there.
I was scared of my parents.
I was scared to speak up.
I was depressed and had suicidal thoughts when I was a toddler and all of my life until I grew up.
As I started understanding how wrong things were I began to speak up to my parents and tell them that I knew that all of it was wrong. It resulted in more beatings and more verbal abuse.
I believed that I was nothing and that nobody would want me.
I hid everything from our extended family because I was scared.
My parents divorced in my preteen years. I lived with my father and my siblings would go back and forth equal time. My dad wasn’t there often and I was often left to fend for myself. I would try to go to my mothers and every time would result in her telling me that she hated me, hurt me in some way and I was sent home.
I remember digging in the garbage for cans to buy a can of soup. I remember washing my clothes in the bathtub for school. I remember not having enough money for lunch.
I remember it all.
I remember being home alone and having no food, no clean clothes, no money to buy food, and no way to contact my father. He got into harder drugs. I knew what they were by then. I found drugs in the bathroom and I flushed them down the toilet because my brothers were coming over and I didn’t want my father to be high. I go into so much trouble. I hid the whole day outside. When I got too cold I came inside I got it. My father was drunk, he hit me in the stomach, threw me all around and even tried to feed me a bar of soap all while cussing me out and screaming at me. I bit him. I shouldnt have but I did. The cops were called by a neighbor and I was told that I had two options to go to my mothers or be put in a behavioral center. I chose my mothers.
I lasted all of a week at my mothers before she choked me out and told me that she hated me. I moved in with a boyfriend and was stuck for eighteen months in a relationship that I did not want. I got the guts to leave when I was sixteen and I did so by finding a new boyfriend. I know it sounds bad but I had nobody. This continued for a while. I just wanted to be loved and to belong somewhere.
I got my life sorted out, I was seventeen and going to highschool, I worked overnight and slept at school in the mornings. I maintained a 4.0 and had excellent attendance. I tried to move back home. I was there for a day and then my mother went out-of-town with her husband and my brothers. I stayed there that whole week and I actually started talking to someone who forever changed my life.
I started talking to my husband. We talked all night and kept talking. A week later when we got to see each other we became inseparable. When we first kissed I felt this warm feeling, I felt a strong force that I had not ever felt before. It was love at first kiss. I knew that it wasn’t just lust because I had felt this before. Not too long after I got kicked out of my mothers and moved in with him and his mother and siblings. I felt like I had a home. I felt wanted and like I belonged. We eventually got pregnant with our first child and we got our own place.
After I had my first child something clicked in my mother. She had to have a mature relationship with me in order to see her grandchild. She stopped drinking.
I started talking to my dad again and he was happy to hear from me.
Now my parents act as though the past never happened.
I love them and I always will but for a long time that was hard.
Now both of my parents are completely different people. In a way they grew up. They matured and started to understand that they were wrong, even if they wont admit it.
I now have a decent relationship with both of my parents as long as I don’t bring up the past.
The thing is, I didn’t know how much of my past currently bothers me until I started therapy.
I am trying as hard as I can to keep it in the past but its all coming back as I have to talk about it and open up with my psychiatrist and therapist.
This post is in no way to start drama and not ment for my parents eyes.
As hard as I have worked to have a mature healthy relationship with both of them I do not want to lose that,
Remember that your children will remember everything.