Hi,
I was poking around trying to find out how people are coping with being isolated and alone. After reading notes from younger people that have had lots of sexual and physical abuse, my heart goes out to them. Sometimes, isolation is a natural path to take.
I used to be marginally social, but always felt like I was alone in a room full of people. I never fit. Everyone seemed to be able to engage with each other, but not me.
It took many years to realize that my well meaning parents, especially my mom, was a physical abuser. She would beat me until I bled because she was very religious and this is what the bible taught. "Spare the rod, spoil the child." Often times the beatings were unjust. And, when she discovered the truth, she never apologized. Instead, she would justify herself by saying that I had gotten away with something that she didn't know about, so the beating was somehow warranted.
On the flip side, both parents ferociously protected me, not allowing anyone else to hurt me. She was there every day, prepared 3 meals a day and kept a well-organized home. My father always worked and brought home every dime he made. I was Dad's sidekick. He was extremely handsome and constantly ducking designing women. My mother died in his arms. As husbands go, he was a good one.. Society deemed them to be a great spouses and parents.
My father never hit me, but once he said he wished I had never been born because he was upset with me. This hurt so bad, I wept for days. Once the crying stopped, something changed inside me. It still hurts when this comes to mind. Mind you, I was his :favorite: child. My sister also hated me because she felt he loved me more.
So, I grew up thinking it was normal to be unwarrantably beaten to a pulp and feeling that I was an inconvenience to the world. My mom used to make me find a switch so that she could beat my sister and vice-verse. My mother would threaten that if I came back with a small switch, she would beat me for that. My sister used this as another reason to hate me. Mom had a million covert ways of dividing us. Needless to say, my sister continued the cycle of abusing me long after my mother passed away. She taught her children to use me.
I left my parent's home at the age of 17 to began my life independently and never returned there to live. It took many years before realizing I was a victim of physical and mental abuse. I had managed to plant myself in the middle of destructive circumstances. My family used me endlessly.
My best friends were either screwing my husband or plotting to steal my belongings. All of my girlfriends were angry bitches. Employers used me. Every man I have ever married or dated was a jerk.
I figured all of this out after losing my job, money and a fancy car. Now, I am depressed, cynical and bitter. It was a lifelong goal to avoid these exact characteristics. But nonetheless, here I am. Obviously, there is something about my behavior and/or physical appearance that evokes this behavior in others. I even sabotage myself. Sometimes I can control it, other times, not.
<Edited by Cherryblossom - inserted paragraph breaks for ease of reading>
I was poking around trying to find out how people are coping with being isolated and alone. After reading notes from younger people that have had lots of sexual and physical abuse, my heart goes out to them. Sometimes, isolation is a natural path to take.
I used to be marginally social, but always felt like I was alone in a room full of people. I never fit. Everyone seemed to be able to engage with each other, but not me.
It took many years to realize that my well meaning parents, especially my mom, was a physical abuser. She would beat me until I bled because she was very religious and this is what the bible taught. "Spare the rod, spoil the child." Often times the beatings were unjust. And, when she discovered the truth, she never apologized. Instead, she would justify herself by saying that I had gotten away with something that she didn't know about, so the beating was somehow warranted.
On the flip side, both parents ferociously protected me, not allowing anyone else to hurt me. She was there every day, prepared 3 meals a day and kept a well-organized home. My father always worked and brought home every dime he made. I was Dad's sidekick. He was extremely handsome and constantly ducking designing women. My mother died in his arms. As husbands go, he was a good one.. Society deemed them to be a great spouses and parents.
My father never hit me, but once he said he wished I had never been born because he was upset with me. This hurt so bad, I wept for days. Once the crying stopped, something changed inside me. It still hurts when this comes to mind. Mind you, I was his :favorite: child. My sister also hated me because she felt he loved me more.
So, I grew up thinking it was normal to be unwarrantably beaten to a pulp and feeling that I was an inconvenience to the world. My mom used to make me find a switch so that she could beat my sister and vice-verse. My mother would threaten that if I came back with a small switch, she would beat me for that. My sister used this as another reason to hate me. Mom had a million covert ways of dividing us. Needless to say, my sister continued the cycle of abusing me long after my mother passed away. She taught her children to use me.
I left my parent's home at the age of 17 to began my life independently and never returned there to live. It took many years before realizing I was a victim of physical and mental abuse. I had managed to plant myself in the middle of destructive circumstances. My family used me endlessly.
My best friends were either screwing my husband or plotting to steal my belongings. All of my girlfriends were angry bitches. Employers used me. Every man I have ever married or dated was a jerk.
I figured all of this out after losing my job, money and a fancy car. Now, I am depressed, cynical and bitter. It was a lifelong goal to avoid these exact characteristics. But nonetheless, here I am. Obviously, there is something about my behavior and/or physical appearance that evokes this behavior in others. I even sabotage myself. Sometimes I can control it, other times, not.
<Edited by Cherryblossom - inserted paragraph breaks for ease of reading>
