growing up with pain
...l of the dishes in the cabinet. After about twenty minutes he came behind me and pulled my hair so hard that when he finally let go there was still hair of mine left in his hands. This happened because I was "going to slow." After I finally finished the dishes he made me mop the kitchen and dining room floor with my toothbrush occasionally kicking me in the back to hurry me up. Then making me brush my teeth with the same toothbrush I had just cleaned the floor with, telling me that I can't have a new toothbrush until he felt as though I deserved one. These are just two examples of the physical abuse I had to encounter living in my parents house. My mother never said anything because if she did she would feel the beatings as well. What is commonly defined as the systematic tearing down of another human being emotional abuse is about 8% of all substantiated abuse cases.(www.jimhopper.com) Although this can be the most prevalent, it can also be the cruelest and most destructive types of abuse. Emotional abuse is the least understood of all child abuse. Children who experience emotional abuse attacks are more than likely to think of themselves as unworthy of affection and love. There are five most commonly known types of emotional abuse rejecting, terrorizing, isolating, corrupting, and ignoring.(www.child-abuse.com). Children who are constantly going through this are suffering just as much if not more then they would be if they were being physically abused. I don’t think that the emotional abuse affected me as much as it could have. However, I dealt with being called names, being told that no one will ever love me because I’m not worthy of love, I was too fat and ugly. I was also called Cinderella the one who did everything. After school one day when I got home my mom and my step-father were sitting in the living room in such a happy mood, they told me that there was a big surprise for me in my room. Not ever getting any presents or surprises I ran to my room with such excitement just to find almost every piece of clothing from everyone in the house scattered all over my floor. I can still hear my step-father’s laughter in the background saying "Cinderella I want all those clothes washed, dried, folded, and put away before tomorrow." I don’t remember what time I finished but the sun was coming up. The worst kind of emotional abuse I felt was the feeling of being rejected and unwanted. I did not feel as though I belonged in the family. Considering that both parents were addicted to drugs and not truly being able to love themselves, neither of them were able to love me the way I wanted or needed to be loved. I remember hearing both parents telling my brothers that they loved them and occasionally giving them hugs I wondered why they did not do the same to me. I use to think that it was my fault, that because I was always getting into trouble for not doing something the right way that I was a stupid kid. I was not allowed to go to family outings because I always had chores to do. I rarely watched television because I was not allowed. My brothers had a television in their room so when they wanted to be nice to me they would put it in an angle so that I could see it from my room. I was alone with no one to love me and take care of me. Sexual abuse is the abuse that I suffered from the most. It has affected the way I think of myself, and others, the way I feel, and has made me into the person that I am today. I moved into the house with my mother, and step-father at the age of six. I can’t remember much about the abuse then but I know that was the age that it started. Then, the abuse was him molesting me. Almost every night he came home high touching me until I awoke out of my sleep. When I was nine he started making me touch his genitals. He made me do that until he finally said that he wanted more. He then forced himself inside of me, smacking and punching me in the face because I moved too much. I eventually gave up trying to get away and cried because it hurt so bad, and I couldn’t understand why my mother’s husband was doing this to me. When he finally finished there was blood all over me, and the bed. I was told to take a shower and have it all cleaned up before my mother got home and not to tell anyone because they would not believe me anyway. After two weeks of still bleeding I told my mother what happened. The only thing that she told me was that I got my period, (I didn’t get my period until I was twelve.) she then went to him and I heard her say "she is getting older now, you can’t keep doing that to her." Which always made me wonder if she knew and just didn’t do anything about it and why. Was I that bad of a child that not even my mother loved me? Not even a little bit. This continued until I was eleven and I couldn’t take it anymore I finally told my Grandmother what happened...