My history


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1. Self history

I think I’m finally at a point in my life where I can finally write about my experience of childhood abuse. My Mother was always abusive, I think, it just happened to get progressively worse as my Siblings grew up. I grew up with one sister, and 2 brothers. For some reason, as we aged my Mother’s bad attention moved to settle on me and my sister. She barely touched our brothers. I believe that for some reason she hated girls. I don’t know why. She had this need to control everyone around her, for me at the age of 13 she settled on my weight, at four foot eleven I was 102 pounds. For some reason she got it into her head that I wasn’t just chubby, or that I had a few extra pounds to loose, no she told me I was obese, and just obese but that I was morbidly obese, obese like 500 plus pounds. I know this because she once called me into her study and brought up a picture of four big women (No offense meant for anyone), and asked me if I knew which one I was. For a child to be told these things is a terrible ordeal. Hearing these things over and over tears someone down, and when you don’t give someone something to build themselves back up, it just breaks them.

As time progressed and when I didn’t loose the weight she wanted me to, she would refuse to give me food. Several times she would tell me that I just be exercising to the point of vomiting up blood to loose the weight. When I didn’t loose the weight, She would beat me and demand to know where even half a pound came from. She would tell me “I won’t stop until you tell me what I want to hear.” She would even encourage my sibling to berate me and call me names. She created an environment where we were in constant fear of her wrath. This often times lead to my siblings banding together against me whenever something went wrong. I once Asked my Sister for an apology a few years after we left her house and she told me that she shouldn’t have to apologize for they did because of the environment we grew up in. A day ago I asked two of my siblings if they ever felt guilty for for throwing me under the bus so to speak when we were kids. One of them told me yes after making me feel guilty for asking such a question. The other told me, “The question doesn’t make me angry so much as sad, because you weren’t the only victim. But yes I felt guilty.”

I never claimed to be the only victim. I know I was not, but I am the only one who ever got a break. I know everyone had a tough time of it, that we all struggled, But they never got ganged up on (at least not to my complete memory) they were never blamed by everyone else for things that went wrong. I remember when my brother was upset when my mom blamed him for something that went wrong, and he sat there talking about how it was unfair when he didn’t do anything wrong. And as he sat there talking to my Sister I said, “Well now you know what it feels like.” I guess they must have heard because they both looked at me with incredulous looks and asked me, “What’s that supposed to mean?” I guess I need an example, one time my brother and I had to sweep the kitchen floor. Which including moving the chairs out of the room so we could get under the table. Well each person in the family had their own specific chair, mom Mother was adamant about that. So I watched him put the chairs back in their place. Apparently he got them wrong, because my Mother started making a huge fuss over it. Well the first thing Ben said was that I was the one who put the chairs back. When I tried to contest that my other siblings intervened on his behalf and blamed me.

Now at this point you’re probably asking well what about your Dad, didn’t he try to help you? Yes and no, He wasn’t there most of the time, when he was all he would tell her is “Don’t hit her on the head or face.” One time after something happened he even beat me, leaving a large bruise from the top of my butt to the back of my knee. I’m sure some of you are asking well why didn’t you tell the school or some authority? The answer is I did, but no one helped. I guess the school was more concerned about keeping up their image as one of the best school’s in the area to help a child who needed it. I was told a few years later by my sister that several of our friends even went to the school advisors and raised concerns over some bruises, even our P.E teachers mention their concerns but nothing happened. I grew up keeping silent because no matter how much I asked I never got the help I needed.

Now the question is, what did you do to make your mother so mad? Basically, I didn’t loose the weight she wanted. And when she started going into more extremes, I guess I started sneaking food behind her back which got her even more pissed off. Now I never once did this before she put me on a diet. It didn’t happen until she decided, with out really talking to me or explaining anything, that I was fat. I’m not an angel, I was not the perfect little girl, I had my problems But I do not believe for one second that I deserved to be treated like trash. I am not a monster she made me out to be, but neither am I an angel. I was a lost and alone child who felt like I couldn’t turn to anyone for help. My Dad would tell me “Why did you do this, you know this gets your mother angry” as if it were all my fault. Even now my Dad doesn’t understand why I’m so distant from him, my sister thinks I have to much of a pity party for myself. She doesn’t tell me out right but the way she talks to me is enough. Maybe I do feel pity for my childhood self, but I’m not always feeling oh boo hoo me. I know I have to move on, and I try, but I struggle. I have my bad days and my good. But I’m not giving up yet.

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