I grew up in a psychologically and often physically abusive household with my biomom and an overbearing 6 foot 7 “step dad” who would make me work my fingers to the bone and pick on me etc. from a small child, I was close to my grandparents and begged and pleaded with my biomom and stephitler to let me live with my grandparents. They finally did to my suprize.
Problem was, my dad was there and at that time was very physically abusive when he was drinking. When my grandfather died in December 1995, the abuse got worse. My grandma tried to stand up to him but it didn’t work. He would hit me with a belt on a whim, even when I didn’t do anything wrong. It got so bad that I called my biomom and told her. She took me out of that environment.
Odd thing was, It was one of the worst mistakes I ever made. Even though the abuse was bad, biomom and stephitler (not gonna call him dad) were a lot worse. They made me go to this authoritarian Christian school with the “highest standards”. If I didn’t make the grade, id get paddled (they never literally paddled me, just threatened me until I was sick everyday at school). They didn’t have special Ed and had a tough curriculum. One time the vice principle went into my class, and took me to his office. He told me, “if you don’t get your grades up”…and pointed to the paddle as I cried my eyes out. I was a good motherfucking kid. Never got in trouble, always followed the rules but couldn’t get my grades up.
Biomom was even worse at home. She would make me do and redue homework papers from the time I got home from school until stephitler arrived. Then stephitler would force me to work my fingers to the bone – this one mega project he had me do was to rake rocks in a pile and wheel barrel them off into an embankment. The house was brand new and he wanted to plant grass seeds. Huge yard. The Christian school also had this rule that if I didn’t do good at home, the parents can request a paddling when I get to school. Biomom and stephitler used that against me to keep me working.
i would work for hours on end, missing my grandma and wishing I was back with her. These monsters I lived with were like robots, never showed a hint of affection. The laboring was so tough that it gave me back problems for years to come. I remember raking rocks into a pile, bending over and feeling like someone stabbed me. But I couldn’t stop or I’d get paddled. They even made me do this in a lightning storm when they knew I was scared of lighting.
I lost it at that point. It was summer when I was 13. I totally fucking lost it, I was sick and tired of the abuse and sick and tired of being afraid and hit. What else could they do to me? For the first time I got violent. I went to my room, tore up everything that I had, busted walls out etc. guess what happened? Absolutely nothing! My biomom came in and screamed at me then punched the wall. John the step dude, was shocked. The next week I was off to my aunts and uncles who got custody of me in late summer of 1997. Aggression was the only way I could have survived.
The damage was already done. I had PTSD and started to have panic attacks but only at school. I had to sit on the floor etc. this lasted until I was nearly 15 when they got me on medication. Still had persistent anxiety. Life still managed to get worse. I’ll talk about that later.
Crazy thing is, my biomom and stepdick didn’t treat there other children or anyone else like they did me. Now they have this image of a stable home and if I spoke out against them, nobody but my real family would believe me because only the family I’m with knows what really happened. Biomom is a sociopath and a narcissistic mother. She can pull off a good image, fucking *****. Sorry to say this, but if her house burnt down, killing everyone in that house including my biologically half brothers and sister (who didn’t do anything to me), I wouldn’t feel a god damn thing. It would be like watching the news. I don’t see any of them as family. I see them as objects really. Relics of the past.
4 comments
You take an overly sensitive and intelligent child, put him in a draconian environment, and he will grow up to be a monster or change the world. Sometimes, alittle bit of both. Whatever the outcome, dysfunction will always be there – hidden within or out in the open for everyone to see.
Wow, dude. That sucks.
Wow… It sounds, slightly, like my childhood. Though mine wasn’t violent, and I wasn’t worked to the bone because my parents thought I was stupid and couldn’t do anything. So, I had the opposite experience where besides feeding the dogs and cleaning up their poop, it was hands off everything else because I was basically very mentally retarded in their eyes. Or rather, that’s the image of me they portrayed to me. There were a few rare instances when I’d hear my mom say my intelligence scared her. I had a stepdad too and he was better than my mom, although he’d call me stupid and make fun of me too. Only he didn’t yell at me like my mom who, growing up, I remember as a 5’10” muscle-bound, hulking, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s long lost twin sister looking angry woman who screamed and yelled at me all the time and often threw things and trashed my room while she’d scream non stop until I cleaned it up to pass the white glove test. She was very authoritarian and still believes very strongly in a hierarchy in life where it’s God, then authorities like police/doctors/lawyers/teachers/or an employee of Walmart (basically anyone given any authority and workers have authority over customers, and all authority must be bowed down to), herself, then me. So I was at the shit end of the hierarchy of life and my job was to obey without question and never think an original thought for myself. But my stepdad actually convinced my mom to let me go on a few school trips that she was really set on me not going on, because she’s very anti-education, and my dad stood up to her and told her that I really SHOULD have some educational experiences, and so I got to go to a few museums and even NYC for a weekend with my class! So between the two, I liked my stepdad a lot better. I don’t think he ever raised his voice. He was very laid back and quiet.
But, if you’re still with me.. There was some shit I really hated in my childhood. Like you, I stood up for myself finally when I was 13. This mostly happened only when it was my mom/grandma or mom and grandma around. I would be forced to go around naked, or with just underwear on, because they thought it was “cute”. I’d have to show off/model new underwear so they could ooh and ahh and giggle at me. I wasn’t allowed to bathe or use the bathroom by myself, my mom always had to watch, to “make sure” I was washing the right way, pooping enough, and not using more than a few squares of toilet paper. (Because she was rationed a few squares growing up as well.) Sometimes they’d insist on wiping me when I was well old enough to do it myself. I finally fought back when I was about 13 and I got the same reaction. Once I spoke up loud enough, I wasn’t challenged and they backed off. And don’t worry, my stepdad was NEVER around when this shit happened, as I was constantly told that I shouldn’t like boys and should stay away from boys, and that boys and girls should never be together or see each other’s bodies, and that girls should stay with girls and boys should stay with boys. Yes, my mom actually told me those things as a little kid. For a long time I felt like I grew up in the lesbo house, but luckily I got over it for the most part and can hang around lesbians without freaking out. But they sure didn’t get what they wanted from me. I’m strictly dickly, trans, and last time I heard from my mom she stopped telling people she doesn’t have any children to telling people she has a son! So yeah, things have changed.
This is quite a post. I can only imagine the difficulty in this environment. You had it coming from all angles. It is a testimony to your strength that you’re here.
As a side note, your dad is an example of the pitfalls of drinking. People sometimes have a difficult time handling their alcohol. Some may act out verbally while others, including in this instance, act out physically. The problems often get amplified over time. I hope that people get help for their drinking before it’s too late.