I'm not sure how to start this or how much to put here. I feel like I have oceans of anger and emotions that haven't been expressed in so long, if ever.
at age 19 i finally got out of my parent's house and went through counselling for a few years, and had dealt with, i thought, my childhood abuse issues. it mainly concentrated on my dad. but didnt' address the fact he sexualised my sister and I, to a degree sexually abused us and ogled our friends.
Now that I have my own child and am protecting her in appropriate ways (from my father, from bullies at her kindy), I am bombarded constantly by bad memories.
And I am so angry at my mother, who treats me with little respect as a parent even though she failed to protect me from my father, my sister, and all the teachers and kids that bullied me.
My father had two main ways of physically hurting us. The first way was disguised as being "playful". Every night my mum would leave at 7pm and not return til after we were in bed. My father would rough-house with us but far too rough. He would force us to rough-house with him, we didn't have a choice. He wouldn't let us go for hours it seemed. He'd sit on us, squeeze our chests til we were out of breath, give us chinese burns, and sometimes smother us with pillows until we turned blue. Sometimes it would be only one of us, sometimes two of us. Sometimes one would try and "rescue" another only to be pulled in to the "game".
I remember standing at the door as my mum left, begging her not to go this time. She'd smile and say she'd be back soon.
My father would also give us severe thrashings as punishments. These severe thrashings seemed to happen every few months or so, for fairly minor things. When I was 5 he sat me on his lap and formed difficult words in a word-maker for me to spell. Every time I got one wrong I was struck. Over the years the thrashings got more severe. I can remember my head bashed against the wall (by my hair), beltings, being forced to stand naked while my father sprayed me with freezing cold water with a hand-held shower hose.
A lot of times my mother was around for the severe beatings. She didn't try to stop it or comfort us afterward.
At school I was shy and often picked on by the other kids. I remember thinking the worst when kids spoke to me, thinking they were going to be cruel to me. My sister was older than me, and often tormented me at home.
My mother child-minded other people's children in our home after school. We rarely had her attention after school. Most of the other kids were picked up by 5.30. My Dad got home from work at 5, when Mum would start making dinner. At 6pm she and he would eat dinner in the lounge watching TV while me, my brother and sister ate in the dining room with the door closed. At 7pm on the dot she left for the gym.
On weekends we had to do what my father wanted. Some days he and my mother would lock us out of the house for whole days, and put sandwiches and drinks on the back step at lunchtime.
I am so angry at my Mum. You don't have my respect you worthless piece of s@#t. All those years you called me a sook. I was simply a child demanding attention that should have been given. Instead I was labelled the whinger of the family and everyone had a go at putting the boot in.
at age 19 i finally got out of my parent's house and went through counselling for a few years, and had dealt with, i thought, my childhood abuse issues. it mainly concentrated on my dad. but didnt' address the fact he sexualised my sister and I, to a degree sexually abused us and ogled our friends.
Now that I have my own child and am protecting her in appropriate ways (from my father, from bullies at her kindy), I am bombarded constantly by bad memories.
And I am so angry at my mother, who treats me with little respect as a parent even though she failed to protect me from my father, my sister, and all the teachers and kids that bullied me.
My father had two main ways of physically hurting us. The first way was disguised as being "playful". Every night my mum would leave at 7pm and not return til after we were in bed. My father would rough-house with us but far too rough. He would force us to rough-house with him, we didn't have a choice. He wouldn't let us go for hours it seemed. He'd sit on us, squeeze our chests til we were out of breath, give us chinese burns, and sometimes smother us with pillows until we turned blue. Sometimes it would be only one of us, sometimes two of us. Sometimes one would try and "rescue" another only to be pulled in to the "game".
I remember standing at the door as my mum left, begging her not to go this time. She'd smile and say she'd be back soon.
My father would also give us severe thrashings as punishments. These severe thrashings seemed to happen every few months or so, for fairly minor things. When I was 5 he sat me on his lap and formed difficult words in a word-maker for me to spell. Every time I got one wrong I was struck. Over the years the thrashings got more severe. I can remember my head bashed against the wall (by my hair), beltings, being forced to stand naked while my father sprayed me with freezing cold water with a hand-held shower hose.
A lot of times my mother was around for the severe beatings. She didn't try to stop it or comfort us afterward.
At school I was shy and often picked on by the other kids. I remember thinking the worst when kids spoke to me, thinking they were going to be cruel to me. My sister was older than me, and often tormented me at home.
My mother child-minded other people's children in our home after school. We rarely had her attention after school. Most of the other kids were picked up by 5.30. My Dad got home from work at 5, when Mum would start making dinner. At 6pm she and he would eat dinner in the lounge watching TV while me, my brother and sister ate in the dining room with the door closed. At 7pm on the dot she left for the gym.
On weekends we had to do what my father wanted. Some days he and my mother would lock us out of the house for whole days, and put sandwiches and drinks on the back step at lunchtime.
I am so angry at my Mum. You don't have my respect you worthless piece of s@#t. All those years you called me a sook. I was simply a child demanding attention that should have been given. Instead I was labelled the whinger of the family and everyone had a go at putting the boot in.
