Where do I begin? I have never tried to write all of this down before, so please bear with me and forgive me if I ramble. This is not an easy thing to do, but since I decided to do this page about Child Abuse, I thought it would be a good time to tell my story.
I don't remember exactly how old I was when it first occured to me that this was not how children were supposed to be treated. My mother was 21 years old when she had me. She was an unwed mother, as my father was already married. I didn't have a "father figure" in my life until I turned twelve. My mother married a man that was an alchoholic and an abuser, so he was of no help to me at all. I must give him credit, though. He never laid a hand on me...but then he never did anything to stop the abuse from my mother, either. Being 21, she did not have the excuse of being too young. I think she was just not the motherly type. She loved me, so please don't get me wrong, but she was just not emotionally capable of raising a child. I remember being shipped off to various "foster homes", for lack of a better term. These were families that took care of other people's children during the week so their parent or parents could work. Some of these places were NOT very nice. I remember one in particular, where I was tied to the bed at naptime as I had a tendency to get up and play when I should have been sleeping. Their solution was to tie me to the bed.
As I got older, the abuse from my mother got worse. I was left alone for hours on end...and that was the best part. Sad when a child looks forward to being alone so they aren't getting belittled or beaten. Some of the things she did to me? Too numerous to count, so I will mention only a few. She used to love beating me with hairbrushes....had countless hairbrushes broken on me. She whacked me behind the knees once with a broomstick...I couldn't walk right for days after that one. And then of course there was the time she threw my record player at me....just missing my head! I was the only kid in the neighborhood who wore long sleeved turtlenecks in the dead of summer, to cover up the bruises. I was told I was useless...stupid...called names I didn't even understand...and then she would start feeling bad and apologize and treat me half way decent for a while. But then, she would go back to being herself and the abuse would start all over again.
When things got really bad, she would ship me off to relatives...aunts, uncles..whoever would take me in for a while. The best place I got to go, though, was my grandmother's house. Oh how I loved it there! She was so sweet, and kind. It was a wonderful place, and I was treated with love and kindness and I felt wanted. It would break my heart when my mother would decide it was time for me to come back home, and she would yank me up and take me with her and I would be miserable. I would beg and plead for her to just leave me with my grandmother, but she would take me anyway. In her case, I think it was just that she didn't want me, but she didn't want anyone else to have me. Very selfish on her part. I had one aunt and uncle who couldn't have children of their own and asked several times if they could adopt me. This would have been great, because I would have had love and attention and the best of everything, but of course Mommy wouldn't hear of it. So life stayed as it was....rotten.
I finally came to terms with my mother only a few years before she died. It was a long time coming, and as I got older, I began to understand why she was the way she was, and I finally decided to let the past go. I never did forgive her, but I did try to get along with her. I think as she got older, she began to realize all the things she had done wrong, and I think she was truly sorry. At least I hope she was. And I hope she found peace in the end, for I think she was a truly tortured soul, and I just happened to be the recipient of her hatred of herself.
Well that is my story...but it has a happy ending! I survived!! I went on!! It made me even more aware of the effects of child abuse, and it made me strong. I may not have turned out to be the best mother in the world..but I am a far cry from my own mother. I know I still have some unresolved issues to deal with, but I have made a start and that is an achievment in itself. And I hope my telling this story will put an end to all the years of resentment I have built up inside. I am sure it will!
