Montannie
Pearl Clutcher
Posts: 3,486
Location: Big Sky Country
Jun 25, 2014 20:32:35 GMT
|
Post by Montannie on Apr 18, 2019 19:32:39 GMT
Oh, so much trauma. I'm so very sorry.
Mine is significantly less traumatic, and a little funny. I was about 5, and I wore my hair in two long braids. The older boys in the neighborhood tied me to the clothesline pole with my braids. My mom untied me after about 15 minutes.
|
|
|
Post by sunnyd on Apr 18, 2019 19:41:21 GMT
Most of them have to do with my mom being beaten by my alcoholic ex-step dad or my little half brother calling the bar every night and asking to speak with his daddy and asking him to please come home. But then there was the time my mom hit my ex-step dad in the head with a cast iron skillet. It rang like the clock tower at the church down the street.
|
|
|
Post by artgirl1 on Apr 18, 2019 21:05:22 GMT
She did nothing to stop it, she did nothing to protect me, she think it's trivial childhood stuff. And this is the true tragedy, the person most responsible to protect you, chooses not too. IMO the betrayal is the worst. My uncle sexually assaulted me when I was 7, my father threw me down the stairs when I was 10 (6 months in a body cast), and shoved my face through a door when I was 10 ( broken nose, cheekbone and jaw). But those, after therapy, I was able to forgive. But the longest lasting and most unforgivable, was my mother saying every single day, "what makes you think anyone cares about your opinions, what you accomplish, what you contribute, or some version of this. She truly made me feel invisible, and to this day, I struggle with 'making my presence known and appreciated'. And that is the greatest betrayal.
|
|
|
Post by GamGam on Apr 18, 2019 22:08:37 GMT
My .dad would listen to me practice the piano every afternoon, and encouraged me with his praise. I knew, deep down, that he really loved hearing me play. I took lessons all through elementary and high school, and furthered my skill as an adult. I owe him so much for his loving encouragement.
|
|
|
Post by lexilu on Apr 18, 2019 23:27:37 GMT
I have so many stories that are similar... family and classmates did a lot of mental damage throughout my childhood. This sums it up the best: "family and classmates did a lot of mental damage throughout my childhood."
|
|
mlana
Pearl Clutcher
Posts: 2,523
Jun 27, 2014 19:58:15 GMT
|
Post by mlana on Apr 18, 2019 23:51:44 GMT
Growing up, my dad would come up behind me and wrap his arms around my shoulders and neck, completely blocking my nose and eyes. I hated it. I told him so, Mom told him so, but he still did it. I learned to just stand very still and wait him out. Eventually he stopped.
One night when I was 12 or so, I was standing in the bathroom doing my hair. I was dressed and getting ready to go off with my dance troupe to see a performance. Dad had been outside in the heat working on a car and he was sweaty, oily and stank. For the first time in forever he came up behind and tried to put his arms around me like he used to do. I tried to twist away so I wouldn’t get nasty and I said stop, I’m getting ready to go out and you’re nasty. He exploded.
He pushed me out of the bathroom, onto the hall floor and started beating my ass. In shock, I tried to get away from him, but he grabbed and tore my shirt. He put his knee in my back and held me down while he took off his belt and started beating me. My 9 yo brother jumped on his back and tried to pull him off and my mom got between us. Dad hit mom several times with the belt trying to get to me and he hurt my brother pulling him off his back. One of Dad’s cousins was there and he pulled Dad out of the hall before Dad started swinging at him. The cousin swung back and the shock of being hit seemed to bring Dad out of his rage.
Before this, my dad had NEVER hit my brother, Mom, or me, outside of spanking us. His spankings had never been the stuff of nightmares, either, not nearly as bad as the talking to he gave us beforehand. We all just stood there in shock that day, trying to catch our breath. Dad turned around and left the house and Mom started taking care of our injuries. Dad never apologized, telling me instead that it was my fault because he had just been loving on me and I had been rude.
After that day, I never got another spanking. Mom told him very clearly that the next time he hit one of us, we’d leave him. Years later he and my brother tied in over something and they both threw punches. My brother was 14 at the time and he gave as good as he got. Mom took him and left Dad, but they did get back together after several weeks.
I’m 53, been married to the same man for more than 30 years, but he still can’t puthis arm around my neck or stand too close to my back.
Marcy
|
|
|
Post by twistedscissors on Apr 19, 2019 1:42:18 GMT
I was physically and mentally abused as a child so there are many. None of them are good. I made horrible decisions to get married just to get out of my parents house and ended up in a 23 yr abusive relationship with my first husband. I wish I could take back the first 41 years of my life.
|
|
|
Post by malibou on Apr 19, 2019 7:59:23 GMT
I am so sorry for all the shitty things that were done to my pod. Not a one of us deserved it and certainly not at the hands of our parents, siblings and others in our lives that should have been looking out for us. Mean people suck.
My stepdad,that raised me, told me regularly that it was a good thing I was smart, because I certainly wasn't pretty like my sisters. He did not say the reverse to my 3 "pretty" sisters. He also told jokes about how they never worried about me being abducted, because as soon as it got light, my abductors would let me go. Such a stupid thing to hang on to, but hang on I did.
Luckily dh tells me everyday how beautiful he thinks I am.
|
|
|
Post by gar on Apr 19, 2019 9:40:40 GMT
Oh my goodness! So many awful stories and sadness here...I can't imagine I won't write what I was going to now, it's way too trivial and I am counting my blessings for the loving childhood I had and I'm so sorry for all of you who didn't have that.
|
|
|
Post by AussieMeg on Apr 19, 2019 11:42:34 GMT
Oh my goodness! So many awful stories and sadness here...I can't imagine I won't write what I was going to now, it's way too trivial and I am counting my blessings for the loving childhood I had and I'm so sorry for all of you who didn't have that. I know, such heartbreaking stories! I was going to share a kind of funny trivial story but I too am counting my blessings that I didn't have to go through what so many of you did.
|
|
|
Post by mellowyellow on Apr 19, 2019 13:16:54 GMT
There are so many but one in particular....I was about 7 years old and had gotten in trouble for something. My dad woke me up at 2am to make me scrub the toilet with a toothbrush. I remember being scared that something was going to come up from the toilet and get me. My dad grabbed my hand and forced it down the toilet. I was crying for my mom to come help me and she never did. She just stood there and watched.
Another time I had blown my ACL. Granted I played basketball through high school and this was my 5th knee surgery. Had to have reconstructive surgery. As I’m throwing up in a bag from the anesthesia my mom says....well if you weren’t so heavy you might not have hurt your knee. I am a size 2-4 now and I still feel fat.
|
|
Deleted
Posts: 0
Apr 26, 2024 12:16:18 GMT
|
Post by Deleted on Apr 19, 2019 13:18:29 GMT
I have always said that I had a great childhood as long as I was not in the house. My stepfather was, well he should not have been around me and my mother was no help. I survived by the kindness of teachers. They fed me, they clothed me, they gave me medical help, they were my saviors. DSS was no help, my extended family was no help....my teachers were my safety net. They cared for me at school,came during breaks and checked on me over the summer. So from that, I vowed when I could I would honor those dedicated, caring and beloved teachers. So I volunteer in schools ALOT! Hubby and I had the disscussion when we had kids, we volunteer not because we have to but because we want to, we volunteer to honor those that made sure I survived. We dont fit it into our lives, we make it part of our lives. A way to say thank you for all that they did and do!
Finding out the above D%@& h$%! was not my dad. I was trying to find wrapping paper I was 7 and found my birth certificate. It had my first name diffrent last name, my date of birth but a different dads name. I took it to school and that started something. They had enrolled me with a fake BC with my stepfather name. They got in alot of trouble with the schools, the IRS and alot more. The abuse got worse after that...but DSS did nothing. So to find out all of that at 7, yep it was bad. I reached out to my dads parents when I was 14, my family refused to tell me ANYTHING about him. All my real dads family would tell me when I contacted them was he died and wanted nothing to do with me. I did look a couple of years later and he committed sucide when I was 3.
|
|
|
Post by tyra on Apr 19, 2019 15:25:51 GMT
So many heartbreaking stories here ladies. Sending so many hugs. But it shows the resilience and strength of woman to get past the crap and move on!
My biggest one was when I was in 1st grade, we lived on the 2nd floor of an apartment. My parents divorced when I was just a few months old. Mom had been dating someone for a few months, but he had gotten physically/emotionally abusive, and she ended things.
A few days after she broke up with him, I woke up in the middle of the night to my bedroom window shattering (remember, 2nd floor). He somehow got up to my window, broke in, then beat the crap out of my mom in her room with the door locked. I will *never* forget the sounds. I called 911, and called my dad. He was arrested, I went to the hospital with my mom- who was seriously injured. I was fine, but had no one to take care of me so I went with. Only time I have been in an ambulance. Sat in the hall outside of her ER room until my dad could get home from work (he worked 3rd shift almost 2 hours away from us).
Still makes me teary thinking about it.
|
|
|
Post by gryroagain on Apr 19, 2019 15:55:07 GMT
I love reading these, not because they happened but because we can share and also survive and thrive.
I was about...9? Or so? At the mall with my family. And in a store a worker asked my mom if I was her kid. Because my brother and sister were beautiful blond blue eyed kids, and I was a scraggly brown eyed black haired feral looking thing😂 I mean it is t like I didn’t know, the family all was gorgeous and then there is me and I’m just all arms and legs and knees and elbows. It made it pretty real though, this sense I had that I was not as lovely as my family, so that sucked.
On the bright side, I got the brains.
|
|
|
Post by fredfreddy44 on Apr 19, 2019 16:48:02 GMT
I don't have any specific moments. I grew up in a stable, loving household. If anything it was one long moment of seeing my parents work together in a consistent way to raise 4 kids and seeing how a partnership works that gave me a model for when I became an adult.
Unfortunately single negative moments can outweigh a whole childhood of positive moments and I am sorry to see so many here.
ETA: I will add one thing. In junior high I was 5' 6" and weighed 150 lbs. My mom decided I weighed too much and signed me up for Jenny Craig without consulting me. She was also always dragging me to the gym and giving me the same stupid Weight Watcher boxes for dinner that she would eat. I guess she decided I would be happier weighing 125 lbs like she did. I never lost any weight, would lie about going to the gym, and eat fast food after school once I got a car. After I went to college I gained weight and now am way more than 150 lbs. I don't blame my mom for my eating habits but it sure didn't help.
|
|
Just T
Drama Llama
Posts: 5,541
Jun 26, 2014 1:20:09 GMT
|
Post by Just T on Apr 19, 2019 17:11:36 GMT
I just thought of something else that happened when I was a kid that had such a huge impact on my parenting.
The summer before I started 7th grade, we moved. I started junior high with no friends, other than this one girl my age who lived across the street and had moved in the same time we did. My mom did not like her or her family, but, she was truly my only friend. She was the only girl in a family of several older brothers, who I thought were just gross and mean. I didn't even spend much time at her house because her brothers gave me the creeps. Well, one day, my mom came to me and said that some money was missing from her father's pants pockets, and her oldest brother said that he had seen ME go into their parent's bedroom and take the money. Not only did my mom believe him and not me when I said I didn't do it, but she made me pay it back. It was $20. Which to a 7th grader, in the mid 1970s, was a whole lot of money. I saved money for months to pay back money that I have no doubt that disgusting boy stole from his dad. I was the mousiest, most shy child, and there is NO freaking way I would have gone into someone's parents' bedroom and looked through their father's pants pockets.
As a parent, I cannot imagine just blindly accepting something like that. I remember crying and crying, begging my mom to believe me, and she took the word of some gross boy, whose family she didn't even like, over her own daughter.
|
|
|
Post by mrssmith on Apr 19, 2019 18:28:06 GMT
I'm so sorry to read all these traumatic stories! Hugs to you all. You are worthy and loved.
The main thing that sticks from my upbringing is that I am the child/grandchild of refugees (from Europe in WW2). Wasting food was the very worst thing we could do. If you had food, shelter and no one was dropping bombs on you, life was good.
|
|
|
Post by scrappintoee on Apr 20, 2019 9:14:51 GMT
Wowwww....I just read every single post, and I just wanna send SO MANY ((( Hugs )))) to those of you who had unspeakable, horrible things happen to you!
|
|
|
Post by sues on Apr 21, 2019 0:25:15 GMT
I am so sorry for all the shitty things that were done to my pod. Not a one of us deserved it and certainly not at the hands of our parents, siblings and others in our lives that should have been looking out for us. Mean people suck. My stepdad,that raised me, told me regularly that it was a good thing I was smart, because I certainly wasn't pretty like my sisters. He did not say the reverse to my 3 "pretty" sisters. He also told jokes about how they never worried about me being abducted, because as soon as it got light, my abductors would let me go. Such a stupid thing to hang on to, but hang on I did. Luckily dh tells me everyday how beautiful he thinks I am. It's great that you feel lifted up when DH says it to you. My father regularly commented on my weight, my appearance, my prospects at finding a man, etc. None of it was good. When my senior picture proofs were delivered, my mother loved them, but I was disappointed. As my mother sat there telling me how much she loved them, I argued the point with what I didn't like about each picture. My dad flipped through the stack, looked me up and down and said "What did you expect- Natalie Wood?" (Dating myself here, for sure!) I remember the silence in the room- even my brothers knew it was bad. Even though he had never told me anything remotely positive about the way I looked- it was the first time I connected all the dots. While my friends had dads who would tell them they were the most beautiful girl in the world - my dad didn't think I was anything much, and he didn't care if I knew it. So I never believed it when any boy/man said something positive about my appearance. Even DH...any time he's ever told me I'm beautiful or look pretty, I just think 'Yeah, right.' It has nothing to do with DH and how genuine I think he is- I just can't hear that kind of compliment and feel lifted up. I just think 'You're full of it.' I never say that - what purpose would it serve? But I never hear that and think 'that's so nice'. It doesn't make me feel good. I wish it did... but mostly I just wish people didn't ever have to look at me. On the positive side- one time I overheard my brother telling his best friend about some art related things I'd done. He said "You should see the stuff she does- she can do anything!" and I felt like my heart would come out of my chest.
|
|
luckyjune
Pearl Clutcher
Posts: 2,685
Location: In the rainy, rainy WA
Jul 22, 2017 4:59:41 GMT
|
Post by luckyjune on Apr 21, 2019 3:32:32 GMT
At age 8, I lost my grandma and grandpa (mom's side) to a murder/suicide. My grandpa was an alcoholic and a violent drunk. This was back in the day, when someone with a drinking problem either went to jail or they went to the hospital to "dry out." I don't know many details (I was young and my mom is a "We don't dwell on the past" kind of person, so we've never talked about it much). My grandma had just decided to divorce my grandpa and he was not happy with that. I was pretty sheltered from the whole ordeal, but I was old enough to understand what was going on.
My adult perspective is that my grandpa's drinking was probably the result of his miserable childhood (with what we understand about ACEs now). I miss them both every day.
|
|
|
Post by mom2rjcr on Apr 21, 2019 15:22:54 GMT
My parents moved me to a private church school starting in 6th grade. Most of the kids had been at this school together since kindergarten. I was an outsider. There were two kids in particular who took great joy in picking at me, well bullying me. One day the teacher left us unattended in the classroom because our priest was suppose to on his way to teach religion class. Picture this: 20 6th graders left alone. The name calling and teasing began and I was devastated. I just wanted to fit in. I ended up leaving the classroom and sat outside of the room on a bench, crying. Finally, our priest arrived and saw me crying and asked what was wrong. I told him, thinking this should take care of it. He went into the classroom and told them that picking on someone was wrong, but what he said next, devastated me..."Just because she is ugly doesn't give you the right to make fun of her." What!?!? I wasn't ugly....or was I? The person I was suppose to look up and trust has now killed what ever self esteem I had left. I can still hear the laughter in my head to this day.
|
|